“We’re an off-the-books team, but we keep fully legal. We just don’t have to jump through the bureaucratic BS agencies have to go through,” he said.
“Do you have a name?” she pushed, wincing a bit at his words. She was well aware of that red tape and it infuriated her.
“No,” he said. She knew he was lying, but she didn’t push that. If she were on a secret team she’d only divulge what was absolutely necessary as well. They didn’t know each other very well at this point, and it would take time to earn trust. She didn’t need to hide her position from him anymore, though. He’d make a far better asset than enemy.
“I work for the FBI,” she finally told him. He didn’t even blink. She could tell by his expression he was slightly surprised, but he’d also been aware she wasn’t just a senator’s aide. Someone had shared something with him. She suspected it was from the earlier call. He hadn’t been on it long enough for a full rundown, but long enough to allow him to talk to her.
“So, you’re working undercover.” He didn’t say it as a question, but a statement.
“Yes, I’m working undercover. We’ve been following the senator for quite some time as there are financial inequities in the money entering her multiple bank accounts. As a matter of fact, we believe the entire political thing started out as a scheme, but as soon as she had the power of a high-ranking political figure, she ran with it. We think in the beginning of her campaign she was simply trying to justify handfuls of money running through her. Now, we think she’s truly going to run for president. We’re just not sure we can nail her down. I’ve been on this case for three years and she never slips.” Mallory let out a breath of frustration.
“She’s good,” Hendrick said as he leaned back comfortably. “We have a tech god who works for us and he hasn’t cracked her yet. He can see everything coming and going, but she hides her tracks incredibly well.”
Mallory laughed without humor. “Yes, she does, from the government, from her growing fanbase, and from every investigative group who’s been on her trail. She’s unbelievably good.”
“No one’s perfect,” Henrick said. “They always get a little too greedy, and they always make a mistake. This is just one hell of a long stakeout, and as long as we drink plenty of coffee and stay awake twenty-four/seven, we’re going to be there when she trips.”
“That’s the problem with the FBI,” she said. “We have a hell of a lot of red tape and we can’t do anything without approval, so she could’ve easily messed up in the last three years and we could’ve missed it.”
“So, if we work together, we’re bound to get her,” Henrick said reasonably.
“I won’t get permission to work with a special ops team,” she told him.
“We won’t do it officially,” he said with a wink. “You’re the senator’s aide, and I’m her newest piece of candy. There’s nothing wrong with us . . . communicating.”
She had a feeling he wanted to do a lot more than communicate. Her body again clenched, but she locked down that feeling when she remembered he’d been about to have sex with the senator in the wine bar. Of course she was attracted to a man who could easily sleep with two women in one night; it seemed to be her curse to fall for the wrong man. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was a man who had a different woman every night of the week. She might have to remind her body she didn’t like men like him. She wanted a bad boy, but one with a heart of gold who believed in monogamy and midnight dates. She wasn’t what a man expected. She was tough and mushy at the same time.
Mallory might not be the roses, sonnets, and chocolates kind of female, but she did need honesty and love in a relationship, whether it lasted a week, a month, or a year. She stopped that last thought. The longest relationship she’d been in had lasted five months and four days. And she had a pretty good idea it had only lasted that long because they’d both been so busy they’d normally only met up once a week, sometimes three times a month to scratch their itches and then be on their way.
“I guess at this point both of our covers are blown so we really don’t have a choice other than to work together,” Mallory told him.
“Nope, it appears as if we’re stuck together,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself. She shifted on the couch next to him.
“So, what comes next?” she asked, realizing she was far too tipsy to drive anywhere. Knowing that, she lifted her glass and took another drink. She had a feeling she’d need it to get through the rest of their conversation that didn’t seem as if it would end anytime soon.
“We catch the bad guy,” he said with a simplicity that made her laugh.
“If only we could snap our fingers and all the bad men and women of the world would magically appear in handcuffs in a cell,” she told him.
“Why not? If we are determined, we can bring evil into the light,” he said as if solving the world’s problems was truly that simple.
“How can you work in this dark underworld and stay so light?” she asked.
“I work with great people. When we start falling, we lift each other back up. It’s that simple. If you surround yourself with trash, you get thrown out with trash. But if you wrap yourself in truth, nothing can get to you. The people I work and hang with are all suited up. Maybe you just need to be in a different circle.”
His words hit her hard, really hard. Was she in the middle of a dumpster unable to climb out, or was she simply not finished arming herself? She didn’t know.
“I guess it’s time to take out the trash. I have some ideas . . .” she said. And then they began taking notes. They kept on talking until nearly dawn. When exhaustion overtook them, Hendrick convinced Mallory to sleep over . . . in his spare room. She agreed with reluctance.
There was no doubt in Mallory’s mind that she desired Hendrick, but she also knew better than to sleep with him. There was so much sexual tension between the two of them, they could ignite a nuclear power plant, but Hendrick didn’t attempt to push her. It was almost as if he was taking his time before he pounced. Then again, maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. When he talked her into staying, there was zero sexual innuendo to the invitation.
He showed her his spare room and extra unopened and unexplained toiletries, and then he walked away and closed his bedroom door. Did the man have guests at his home so often he kept spare items there? The thought depressed her a bit.
Mallory used the toothbrush, floss, and facewash to ready herself for sleep. When she came out, a navy T-shirt and pair of boxers were on her bed. She ran her fingers over them, wondering if she could wear them or not. They were obviously his clothes, and ones that had been pressed against his bare skin. Would she be able to get any sleep at all wearing his shirt and knowing he was only a room away? She was exhausted, but thought of him naked, sweating, and panting over the top of her was enough to keep her up all night.
Realizing she couldn’t drive determined her final answer. She changed into his clothes, loving the smell of the detergent he used to wash them and practically feeling his arms around her as she lay down on the unbelievably comfortable bed.