“What?” A rush of heat blasted into her brain.
“He wants you there,” Special Agent Harris said, her eyes flashing. “Let’s go back to the first moment you spoke to him, Dr. Kincaid. Walk me through everything again.”
Cassidy looked at Bruce, whose face was pinched tight. “Um,” she said, her mind spinning back through time. She remembered the look Bruce had given Bo and his friends and realized that he had recognized them. Were their pictures on the wall in the war room down the hall? She hadn’t gotten a close enough look at the board to identify anyone. Had Bruce gone to Fort Point on purpose to spy on Bo and his crew?
“I met him at Drift first,” Cassidy said. “We started talking while he waited for the bartender. I thought maybe he knew Quinn.”
“Did you flirt with him that night?” Special Agent Harris said, tapping the tip of a pen against a blank piece of paper.
“No!” Cassidy gasped as the back of her skull throbbed.
“Did you smile at him, show interest in him, lead him on?” Special Agent Harris continued, her words fast and harsh.
She remembered what Bo had said at the bar: Do I gotta flash some titties around her to get a drink or what? And her reply: It might help.
Was that considered flirting?
“No,” Cassidy said again. The last person she had flirted with—if showing Mel her attitude was considered flirting—had nearly ended her life. “It was maybe a one-minute conversation. He noticed that I hadn’t paid; I told him Quinn was my brother. He mentioned that he hadn’t seen me around, so I told him that I was from out of town, and then he left.”
“And then you saw him in the water,” Special Agent Harris said. “What was he like then?”
Cassidy exhaled a stiff breath. “I didn’t talk to him until right before I got out. We were the last two people, so we were waiting side by side. He recognized me. Asked why Quinn wasn’t surfing.” Another pang of remorse flared when she remembered calling Quinn chicken, even though he would have easily agreed. But in admitting that to Bo, had she revealed too much? Had Bo seen that intimate admission as some kind of encouragement?
“Then, in the parking lot, he came by.” She remembered his washboard abs and bulging biceps and the tattoos. Had he been strutting for her benefit? Or was he just one of those cocky males that liked the attention? “He brought up Quinn again, said he could save him money, and would I find out if he was interested.”
“Did you flirt with him then?” Special Agent Harris asked.
“I was there with Bruce,” she replied, as if this would explain.
Special Agent Harris glanced at Bruce. “But you weren’t at the vehicle at that time, correct?”
Bruce nodded.
“Think back, Dr. Kincaid, he’s obviously got it in his head that you’re interested in him. I need to know how this happened.”
“I’m not interested in him!” Cassidy cried, glaring at Special Agent Harris. “Whatever vibe he got is manufactured. The only thing I’ve done is talk to him like I would talk to anyone.”
Special Agent Harris returned the glare, and a long silence expanded into the room, like a balloon slowly filling the space, pressing against them.
“This means they both have to go in,” Special Agent Harris said to her partner.
Special Agent Santiago nodded. “I’m already on it,” he said, flipping open his laptop.
Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back. “I’m going in, too,” he said.
Special Agent Harris whipped around. “Absolutely not,” she said. “You walk in there with Cassidy, he’ll be thrown off. We can’t take that risk and you know it.”
“I don’t like this,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t, either, but it’s what we got.” She turned to Cassidy. “We’ll meet back here at seven p.m. to get you ready. I suggest you try to go about your day like normal. Rest, eat, get some exercise, but no surfing, I can’t risk you getting hurt. Take a walk, do some yoga, okay? And no alcohol.”
Cassidy bristled at the lecture, but deep down, the realization that she was somehow repeating her past mistakes was taking root. It had started long ago with Luke and the loser boyfriends she’d had before him, then started up again with Mel. She remembered Saxon’s frightening charisma during their first meeting and how it pulled on her despite her awareness.
What had she done this time to attract yet another dangerous person? What would it take for her to break this cycle?
Thirteen
Cassidy was quiet during the ride back to Quinn’s, her mind preoccupied. In the backseat, Quinn was on the phone with a woman—she could tell by the tone of his voice.
“You okay?” Bruce adjusted the air conditioning.
“What did I possibly do to make Bo think that I was interested in him?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there, remember?”
Cassidy turned away, feeling hurt, though she knew that wasn’t fair.
“I just wish I could be in there,” Bruce said. “Let’s just hope that if this moves forward, you can bail.”
“But if it’s successful, he’ll need Quinn,” Cassidy said, her gut tightening.
“Right,” Bruce said, though he sounded distracted.
Once they neared Quinn’s apartment, Cassidy wondered if he was supposed to come up with them, make sure they rested, ate, did yoga. But Bruce pulled his SUV behind a row of parked cars and idled.
“See you later, I guess,” she said.
Bruce gave a quick nod, but didn’t look at her.
Cassidy followed Quinn from the car and into the apartment as Bruce’s SUV rolled away from the curb behind them.
“I’ve got some inventory and payroll stuff to do, that’ll keep me busy for a while,” Quinn said as they trudged up the stairs. “I’m sure you’ve got three papers to write or five years of data to analyze, right?”
Cassidy mentally downloaded her to-do list. “Yes,” she groaned.
Once inside the apartment, she and Quinn
