Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“No,” Macy and I shout at the same time.
We don’t have time to tiptoe around the urgency of these stings.
Macy’s breath catches in her throat when I say, “Place me on the signup sheet for the 6 a.m. class.” The relief in her eyes shifts to disappointment when I lock eyes with Agent Cartwright. “You should head to bed. You won’t fool anyone with a first-time mother-to-be ruse if you look like you’ve already cut your teeth with a newborn.”
“Grayson—”
I cut Macy off as I did earlier tonight—with a stern glare.
She doesn’t back down this time.
“I can do this.”
“I said no.”
Ignoring Macy’s rant that she’s the lead agent on this case so she can ignore my directive, I gather Adeline’s files, hand them to her, and then walk her to the door.
I’ve barely closed said door when Macy comes at me with words like she wishes they were her fists.
20
MACY
Even with my argument with Grayson going into the wee hours of this morning, I stare at the ceiling, counting the minutes since he shut me out of my own investigation
Sleep never came. Not after our argument, and not after Grayson brought me a chamomile tea and a slice of the dessert we had shared earlier.
The worry in his eyes was unmissable when he placed the ginormous slice of pie onto my bedside table, and I almost folded. But since my hesitation was barely visible behind the stubbornness, I rolled away from his wordless peace offering and sulked in silence.
I’m a federal agent. I am not a fragile first-year rookie who needs to be coddled to make sure she doesn’t break.
If only my body weren’t disagreeing with me. My back is aching, my hips are throbbing, and my stomach feels stretched and heavy, like I swallowed a medicine ball.
I shift, eager to find a comfortable position. My efforts are pointless. I’m restless, angry, and a little afraid that I’m losing my edge.
That I’m losing myself.
Grayson is preparing breakfast. The clatter of the fry pan is as loud as the rattle of the water pipes in the apartment next to ours. Adeline must be awake and preparing for her first undercover sting. I would be excited for her if my heart weren’t broken from being removed from this assignment weeks earlier than planned.
My eyes return to my closed bedroom door when shuffling comes through it. Grayson didn’t sleep either. I know this by the way his footsteps drag, and by the discomfort sitting heavily on my chest. He’s worried we won’t move past this, though he is just as resolute in his decision to sideline me.
I force myself out of bed, wincing when my feet hit the cold floor of the bathroom. My belly is impossibly tight, and my ankles are swollen.
After doing my business, silently praying the toilet’s flush doesn’t scald Adeline, I pad into the kitchen with my arms crossed and my chin held high, ready to fight.
Grayson glances up at me. Though he looks tired, I still love his carefree smile when he greets me. He wears dark jeans and a light-blue shirt, and he’s clipped his badge to his belt as if he isn’t minutes from going undercover.
He appears ready for war, but I wonder if my hormones are playing havoc with more than my sexual appetite when he plates up breakfast. Next to a fried egg on buttery toast, he places avocado wedges. After a sprinkling of salt, he slides the plate across the island to me.
“Eat,” he demands, his voice so low it tickles my toes.
It’s an effort not to snap at him, to shout that I don’t need his protection or his breakfast, but the smell of eggs on a buttery base makes my stomach growl. So instead, I plonk my backside onto one of the stools dotted around the island, poke my fork in my egg’s yolk to make sure it’s runny, then cover my snarl with the rim of a recently filled mug of tea.
Although he’s throwing out multiple white flags, I grumble under my breath, “I’m not an invalid, Grayson.”
He sighs, rubbing at his stubble. “I know you’re not. But I can’t risk this, Mace. I can’t risk you or your baby.”
I stab the avocado slice with my knife like I’m angry he cares enough about me and my unborn son that he doesn’t want us to get hurt. It is all a ploy. “This case is important to me. You know that. I’ve been working on it for months. I can’t just watch it unfold from the sidelines.”
He flattens his hip against the counter next to me, then folds his arms over his chest. I wish he wouldn’t. His movement drags the cuffs of his shirt up high on his thick biceps, and I am suddenly worried that my stance is still rooted in jealousy rather than mutual respect for a fellow agent.