“Still doesn’t help us with Father McDonagh’s disappearance,” I remind him.
“So you haven’t discovered anything that ties Romano to the priest yet?”
“Not so far, no,” I admit, “but I’m working on it.”
“How?” he asks, uncaring to hide his impatience with me.
How, Haynes? Oh, I don’t know…maybe by hiding in a shower stall with him as he ran his large hands all over his…
“I’ve been building rapport with his sister,” I reply, glad he doesn’t have the superpower to read my inner thoughts. “Stella is close to him. If there’s a way in, it’s through her.” When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “It would have helped knowing she was studying at UChicago. I could have struck a friendship with her sooner if I had that piece of information beforehand.”
“Why bother?” Haynes snorts. “Women never know anything about the Outfit business. I doubt she has the faintest clue what her brother’s up to.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. The two of them seem… tight.”
“The only thing tight around here is your deadline,” he says coldly. “It’s been over a month, and we’re no closer to closing this case than when you started.”
I bite back the urge to defend myself. I have made progress. More than Haynes is willing to admit. But he isn’t interested in credit unless he’s the one getting it.
“I’ll keep working on Stella,” I say in a steady voice.
“Lost cause, if you ask me. But go ahead,” he grumbles. Then his gaze drops, settling shamelessly on my chest. “I still think seduction is the better route. Are you sure you can’t entice him to your bed? Hard to believe a woman like you wouldn’t have some kind of effect on him.”
The way he says it, while his gaze lingers on my cleavage, makes my skin crawl.
“No.”
“Have you even tried?”
I swallow the sharp response that threatens to escape and shake my head instead. “He’s not interested in me… that way.”
“Very well.” He frowns, clearly disappointed. “Sometimes you can’t quench a man’s thirst, no matter how mouthwatering the glass.”
I force myself not to flinch or grimace at his misogynistic remark. Instead, I just nod and keep my face as neutral as possible, so he doesn’t see how repulsive I find him.
Not only is Haynes a callous, chauvinist pig, but he is the type of agent who’d sell his own grandmother if it meant closing a case. To him, the only asset a female agent brings to undercover work is what’s between her thighs. I’d bet my life savings that he thinks the same of all women, period.
Though I loathe to admit it, the Bureau doesn’t just tolerate Haynes’s way of thinking, they even endorse it. At Quantico, we were taught to leverage every possible advantage against oursubjects, including our sexuality. I know plenty of agents—men and women—who can compartmentalize and use their powers of seduction to get close to their targets when it’s the most effective strategy.
I’m just not one of them. If push came to shove and that was the only way I could get closer to my subject, then maybe I’d have no choice then to consider it, but that’s not the case here. Working at Carmine’s gym is an in. Becoming friends with Stella is another. Maybe I could even find a way to get close to Annamaria. There are so many ways to infiltrate Marcello’s life that I don’t need to fuck him, no matter how much Haynes wants me to.
“Stay on his radar, then,” Haynes says at last. “Use the sister, use whatever you have to. Just don’t let up.”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, my hand already reaching for the handle. “Anything else?”
“No. Just get out,” he replies in annoyance. “And next week, bring me something we can use. Something palpable. Or don’t bother coming at all.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and step out of the car. The moment the door clicks shut, Haynes peels off, as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, slamming my car door harder than necessary.
I put the key into the ignition and turn it, the engine sputtering, once, twice, then nothing. I grip the steering wheel tighter, jaw clenched.
“C’mon, old girl… help a sister out.” Nothing. I drop my forehead against the wheel with a groan.
After everything with Haynes, Marcello, and the emotional whiplash of both, I’ve earned a quiet ride home. Just one thing today that works like it’s supposed to. One thing that doesn’t give me any grief.
On the third try, the engine coughs to life as if doing me a favor.