Wake Up Maggie(4)By: Beth Yarnall
He huffed out a breath. “What about me?”
“Do you think I killed him?”
His one-word exoneration left me a bit lightheaded. He was the first law-enforcement type I’d come across during this whole mess who hadn’t mentally convicted me on sight, including my own attorney.
“Does that matter? We have to get you out of here.”
“I just wanted to pay my respects. I kinda loved him. You know…before.”
His mouth compressed into a grim line. “I’m sure you did. Can we go now?”
We started for the door but stopped at the sound of voices. Super Agent and I exchanged looks. He put his finger to his lips, drawing my attention to their kissable perfection. The doorknob turned. Gripping my arm, he pulled me through another door, this one a tiny closet. Two men came into the room where we’d just been, arguing.
Super Agent shifted, rubbing me in a most titillating way. Man, did he smell good, all woodsy and leathery, like he’d been hiking outdoors. I leaned in for a sniff and bumped my forehead on his chin. He slid a hand into my hair at the nape, holding me still. I suppressed a moan and the instinct to arch into the caress. This man barely touched me and my body lit up like the Fourth of July.
“I can’t find her,” said a man who sounded a lot like the thugs my brother used to hang out with, all ego, no smarts.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” a guy with a distinct Boston accent answered. “You weren’t supposed to take your eyes off her.”
“She slipped out when that loudmouthed bitch lost her shit and kicked the senator, ruining everything,” Thug said.
He was talking about me! I made a move for the door, but Super Agent blocked me and pulled me tight against him, clamping his big hand over my mouth. I stilled, my brain caught between wanting to rub up against him like a cat in heat and head-butting him. It was a rather annoying predicament.
“She knows too much,” Boston said, his voice tight and ugly. “Find her. I don’t trust her. In the meantime Miss Castro will make the perfect patsy.”
I struggled, which did more to arouse me than free me. Super Agent seemed to be having the same issue. He backed me up against the side of the closet, pinning me with his big body. My heart jackhammered in my chest, making it difficult to find air. The big, giant mitt over my mouth didn’t help matters either.
“That’ll cost extra,” Thug said, obviously afraid of Boston.
“You’re trying to charge me more for a botched job?” Boston’s tone sent a shudder through me.
“Jesus, stop squirming,” Super Agent whispered in my ear, giving me more shivers. My quickened breath blew hot over his fingers as he smoothed his thumb over the pulse in my neck to calm me. But it didn’t work. This guy set off all my libidinous tendencies.
“Expenses. That’s all,” Thug tried to reason.
Super Agent stiffened and I sucked in air at the distinct click of a gun being cocked.
“Or I’ll give you something else less pleasant to eat,” Boston finished.
A door opened and closed. They were gone. Super Agent relaxed once more. Well, most of him did. A very impressive part of him still stood at attention.
“They killed him,” I mumbled under Super Agent’s hand.
He removed his hand. “What?”
“They killed Chuck Puckett. Go arrest them.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t know who they are. Did you get a look at them? ’Cause I didn’t.”
“What exactly does the I in FBI stand for?” I shot back.
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“Fan-flipping-tastic. The only possible lead to exonerate me just walked out the door.”
“Are you all right?”
Half turned-on, half scared, I shook my head. None of this was right, including my very wrong thoughts about Super Agent.
He cradled my face in his hands. “I’ll find them for you.”
As much as I wanted to hand over this entire mess to someone way more qualified than me to find out what really happened, I had to ask. “Why?”