Page 37 of Quiet Protector
Veins bulge in Alex’s neck as spit flies out of his mouth. “You forgot? How can you fucking forget me instructing you to log out of her computer ten minutes before you did?” I could throw Grayson into the deep end with me, but I won’t. He agreed to come out of undercover work to help me nab Castro, so I won’t put him on bad terms with his brother.
After shoving a computer log printout sheet into my chest, Alex digs his cell phone out of his pocket. “If that isn’t enough proof, how about this?”
Anger envelopes him when he spins his phone around to show me an image of Regan in a skimpy white towel. I’ve seen her like that before, but it was via a live stream, not a still shot. “You were watching her.”
“No.” I immediately deny, shaking my head. “I logged out the instant she entered the room.”
“The instant she entered the room innothingbut a towel.”
A lady dashing up the courthouse stairs yelps, startled by Alex’s vicious roar. I understand why he’s upset, but if he’d give me the chance to speak, I could explain it isn’t anythinglike he’s thinking. His anger isn’t allowing him to see things clearly.
“What if she didn’t have a towel on? What if she were naked?” He steps closer, his chest thrusting. “I brought you onto my team because I thought you were one of us… one of the good guys.”
“I am—”
“No, you’re fuckin’ not,” he interrupts, shouting. “You’re just as rogue and corrupt as Theresa.”
You know those balls I mentioned yesterday? The ones I was struggling to juggle? They’ve fallen, and their crash is brutal. “Who are you to talk? You slept with a target while undercover.”
“Regan wasn’t a target.” Alex gets right up in my face, stealing every sense of normality I have. “She should have never been dragged into this fight. She’s an innocent—”
“Just like Izzy?” I butt in, returning his glare. “Yet here she is, at your request, being pranced in front of Isaac like a little playthingjustlike Theresa forced you to do with Regan. There’s only one difference… you stupidly fell in love.”
I’m given a clear reminder that Alex is a Rogers when he pops his fist into my eye. It has the last of my balls falling to the ground while doubling the inane thoughts in my head, but before any of them can transpire, Reid, Alex’s lacky, steps between us.
“Step back, Alex.” He fists Alex’s shirt before endeavoring to do the same to mine. I push him off me before he can. Wrongly assuming I’m stepping up to him, Alex comes at me again. “Step back!” Reid shouts for the second time. “He’s not worth it.” He glares at me like I’m a piece of dogshit he trod in before shifting his focus to Alex. “And you’re not here for him, remember?”
I could laugh at their pathetic attempt to pin everything happening on me. Not once have I stepped over the line agents are forced to toe the past seven years. I was following direct orders.
Just not all of them were given by Alex.
“Nothing I did was outside of my role,” I growl when my anger becomes too much for me to bear.
A festering pit of annoyance boils in my gut when Alex snarls, “A role you no longer hold.”
I want to retaliate, a rebuttal is sitting on the tip of my tongue dying to be expelled, but I hold it back, aware that the relinquishment of my position from Alex’s team could be a godsend if I play my cards right.
I won’t be required to uphold the Constitution of the United States if I’m no longer an agent.
I’m free to do as I wish.
I can even side with mafia royalty if I want.
16
Brandon
“And here I was thinkingThe Forty-Year-Old Virginwas based on fiction.”
As I shoot daggers at Harvey, a familiar chuckle barrels out of Phillipa’s cell phone resting on the bench stretched across one wall of a surveillance van. If I had known Grayson was hijacking the feed of the camera in the button of my shirt, I would have brushed up on my performance.
Ha! Who am I kidding?
My dating skills are as disastrous as my investigative skills of late.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Phillipa assures me as she runs her hand down my arm in comfort. “What?” she pushes out breathlessly when subjected to Harvey’s cocked brow. “He was barely alone with the girl. No one likes performing in front of an audience.”
“Ah—”
