Pulling the Trigger. Julie Miller

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      Martinez didn’t know her history with Watts? The FBI was allowing this?

      No. He could see it in her face. She hadn’t told them.

      “Would you excuse us a minute, Patrick?” Ignoring every vow to keep his distance, Ethan clamped his fingers around Joanna’s arm and ushered her into the nearest open room he could find. Though her sinewy muscles twisted beneath his grip, he never let go. And she never muttered a sound that might indicate to the sheriff that she was moving against her will.

      “You two know each other?” Patrick called after them. “Well, ain’t that a surprise.”

      Ethan ignored the amusement he heard in his friend’s tone and pushed Joanna into an empty interview room. He closed the door, releasing her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      He blocked the exit with his body as she stormed across the room and came back in a useless attempt to get past him. The file crumpled in her grasp as she tilted her chin to glare in defiance. “You already asked me that. I’m working the Julie Grainger murder. Now move. I have a briefing with the sheriff.”

      She knew better than to play stupid with him. He rephrased the question. “Why are you messing with Watts?”

      “My assignment is to interview him.”

      “Get someone else.”

      “Never a man to mince words, are you, Ethan?”

      “He raped you.”

      Her skin blanched beneath her tan. The fire in her eyes went out as her chin dropped and her hazy focus landed on the middle button of his creased white shirt. He felt like a bastard playing the voice of reason here, but someone had to make her see how badly she could be hurt if she went head to head with Sherman Watts again.

      The bruises and blood and violation had been bad enough when he’d found her at her trailer that night after her parents’ funeral. But the emotional toll had been even more devastating. That night had killed her warmth. Killed her trust. Killed her love for him. He didn’t ever want to see her suffer like that again. If she wouldn’t protect herself from facing that unrepentant monster, then by damn, he’d do it for her.

      Her deep, stuttering breath broke the silence of the room, reminding him to move past his raging emotions and seek out that calming sense of quiet inside himself again. She wasn’t a man under his command, and he shouldn’t be barking orders to get his point across.

      “Joanna—” He reached for her pale cheek, but she knocked his hand away, the same way she had that night.

      “Do you think that’s something I can forget?” Her gaze briefly touched his before she turned away to dump the file on the table opposite the observation window. Keeping his feet rooted to the spot, Ethan watched her take a moment to smooth a straight strand of hair off her face and pull her shoulders back. By the time she faced him again, that prickly, polite chill was back in place. “This isn’t about revenge.”

      “Bull.”

      “The statute of limitations ran out on my assault before anything could be proved, so there’s no longer a conflict of interest for me to work this case. I’ve accepted that he’ll never pay for what he did to me.”

      “I haven’t.”

      His stark, growly pronouncement seemed to take her aback. He watched the muscles travel down her long neck as she swallowed hard before speaking. “The attack wasn’t your fault, Ethan.”

      “I should have been there.”

      “I told you I needed some time alone that day. You were giving me the space I needed after Mom and Dad’s funeral. If I’d known he still had feelings for Mom…”

      Her fingers clenched at her side and he got the feeling she was fighting back the urge to reach out to him, as well.

      “What happened afterward—Watts’s never even being arrested—that wasn’t your fault, either.”

      Didn’t make Watts any less of a bullying bastard who’d gotten away with crap his entire life because of who he was related to. Didn’t make Ethan feel any more like a man who’d done right by the girl he loved, either. “He can still hurt you. In ways you may not even have imagined yet.”

      “I’ve imagined all of them,” was her stark answer. “But this is my job.”

      “Go back to D.C. This is too personal.”

      Joanna laced her fingers together and tapped her knuckles against her lips, thinking for a moment before she slowly began to pace. She seemed to choose each and every word with laser-beam precision. “I’ll concede that I won’t lose any sleep if Watts is arrested for a different crime. That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t volunteer for this assignment, but I didn’t argue when it was given to me, either. If I can’t face whatever criminal I run up against—even my own rapist—over an interview table, then I’m not tough enough to do this job.

      “Make no mistake, there’s a reward involved if I prove to myself I can do this. If I break this case—if I can break Watts—I’m guaranteed a promotion in D.C. and I’ll never have to come back to this place again.” She stopped in front of him, her hands curled into fists as she faced him once more. “I know that sounds cold and calculating, but this is what I do. This is what I need to do. I’m the go-to woman who’s going to get Watts to talk. He’ll tell me who murdered Agent Grainger, and maybe where that fifty million dollars of Vincent Del Gardo’s is hidden. Besting him at my game will be justice enough for me.”

      Pulling back his jacket, Ethan propped his hands at his waist, shaking his head at her misguided plan. “I don’t want you alone in the same room with him.”

      “Isn’t it fortunate, then, that it’s not your decision to make?”

      She retrieved her folder, tucked it under her arm and walked up to him as though she thought he would simply move aside. Screw this. Ethan reached out to lightly pinch the upturned point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She stiffened for a moment. But when she didn’t pull away and the warm coffee of her eyes stayed locked on to his gaze, he traced the line of her jaw, rediscovering the softness of her skin.

      “Don’t do this, sweetheart.”

      “Ethan…” She squeezed her eyes shut against the stroke of his hand, pressing her lips into a thin line to block the words and emotions locked up behind them.

      “Shh.” He rubbed his thumb across the tight frown, urging her muscles to relax. He swept his fingertips lightly across her cheek.

      When she turned her face into the caress, something cracked open inside him—his need for a woman to warm his bed, perhaps, or maybe the memories of how this particular woman had once enjoyed his touch. Her timid response took him back in time, when her long legs had caught his eye, and her innocence had captured his soul. Touching Joanna like this made him feel things, want things that weren’t his to ask for anymore. He tunneled his fingers beneath the heavy silk of her ponytail and let his broad palm cup the length of her neck. He leaned in, touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “You’re not as tough as you act. You weren’t fifteen years ago and you aren’t now.”

      Her eyes popped СКАЧАТЬ