“And you’re not going to acknowledge the fact you sawmy underwear?” Thankfully she’d been wearing one of her newer,nicer pairs. She didn’t want to think about him seeing a ratty oldpair that were supremely comfortable, but should probably be thrownaway.
He shrugged. “I was married. Been divorced threeyears now. And for the record, that’s no more skin than I’d see ifyou were at the beach in a bathing suit.” He shot her a look. “PlusI was a little more concerned about the bloody wound than getting alook at your tan lines.”
Megan pressed her lips together. Was she supposed tosay thank you? That wasn’t going to happen, even if he had helpedher.
She recalled rousing in the middle of it, being onthe bathroom floor. His frowning face, and the gloves on, tearingmedical tape with his teeth. Had she felt then like she was indanger? No way. The crux of it was that whole FBI personality. Sheknew guys like him. And yes, there were some jerks in thebureau. They were regular guys, and some took things beyond thelines drawn by honor. Not Adrian, though. She’d known that abouthim.
“Feel better this morning?”
She had to concede that. “Yes, I do.”
He got up and poured her a cup of coffee. Sheaccepted it, still tucked under the covers. After she took a sip,and a few more of those sleep cobwebs dissipated, she said, “Youwere married?”
He nodded, settling back in the chair he’d pulled soit faced her. “Six years married. Three since then.”
Was he going to tell her what happened? She’d nevereven come close to being engaged. What was the point? Her lifehadn’t been conducive to a heavy relationship. And the man she’dhad feelings for…
Well, he was gone now, wasn’t he? Too late to realizeshe’d loved him.
What was the point in doing that again when it hadended in a way she would never—not for one second of the rest ofher life—forget holding him in her arms and watching him bleed outall over that cold floor?
Her head spun.
The mug swayed in her arm and some spilled on thecomforter.
“Whoa.” He got up and started over toward her.
Megan set the mug on the bedside table between thetwo queen beds. “I’m okay.” She cleared her throat. She needed tothink about something else. “What happened? If you don’t mind measking. Why did you get a divorce?”
He stood at the end of the bed. “I worked a lot. Shedidn’t like the fact I was home late most nights, sometimes nothome at all. She wanted someone who left work at work and came homeclean of it. But that isn’t how this job works.”
Megan shook her head. “No. It isn’t.” Her experiencewith the bureau wasn’t the same as his, but she knew that atleast.
“She had an affair with a guy she worked with.Changed the locks.” His expression seemed to freeze, like he didn’twant to feel anything. “I came home after a particularly bad case.We’d taken down a ring of guys dealing in women—some of them teensand preteens. My stuff was all boxed up in front of the garagedoor, and the coworker had already moved in.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
She could see pain and disappointment in his eyes.Even though it was three years ago, it was clearly still a wound hecarried with him. Maybe he’d really loved her.
Megan got up and went to her duffel. She found someclothes that would work for an FBI office meeting and headed forthe bathroom with the outfit bundled under her arm. She turned backat the door, coffee cup in her other hand. No sense in it gettingcold when she could put it on the bathroom counter. “It okay if Iuse the bathroom?”
Adrian nodded. “I’ll changeout here.” All business. Any traces of sadness or grief over thefailure of his marriage was gone now.
Megan said, “Thanks.”
She knew from the look he gave her that they were onthe same page. That she was thanking him for more than just lettingher take a turn with the bathroom.
“Oh,” she called out before she shut the door, “Whois your boss?” Maybe she knew him. She took a sip of coffee and sether clothes on the counter.
“Hank Cromwell.”
Megan swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Okay.” Theword was strangled.
She shut the door to the bathroom and took a breath.Hank? The agent who had been one of her father’s best friends?
This meeting was going to be so much fun.
Not.
**
Adrian flashed his badge to the security guards inthe lobby of the DC FBI office. Then he turned to Megan, andwaited.
She pulled the badge from her back pocket and handedit over.
The guard logged her name and other details and thenpassed it back. Access badges were given. So much procedure. But itkept them safe.
They made their way through security after a fewminutes. Adrian had his weapon on him, but Megan had stowed hers inthe car. It definitely made it simpler not to have to go throughthe rigmarole of getting her things looked at.
When he caught up to her, he asked her about it.
She shrugged. “I don’t have a service weapon. Notanymore. And I’m not going to bring a Double Down gun into the FBIoffice.”
“I’m not complaining.” She didn’t have a serviceweapon? She had a badge.
What kind of agent was she?
He led her to the elevator and punched the button forthe floor where his office was. She glanced over. “Didn’t youarrest Alexis during that whole thing, when Rachel waskidnapped?”
Adrian winced. “In my defense, it made sense to thinkshe was involved. And when it became clear she wasn’t, we backedoff. But we still kept her safe.” In fact, he’d been there when shehad nearly been killed by Lincoln Sadler, and they’d had to takehim down.
Though, Bradley—Alexis’shusband now—still looked at Adrian like the agent was going to pullout cuffs at any second. Which, of course, would result in Bradleytackling him to protect the people he loved.
Adrian respected him, and all of the team at DoubleDown, more than they would ever know. More than he would admit,anyway.
The elevator doors opened. He said, “It’s thisway.”
“I know.” She strode out. “I remember.”
Adrian followed her, trying not to look like herentourage. “Are you
