Page 7

I need to get back to theoldme.

"Agent Miller."

I startle at the rap of knuckles against my door. Dr. Kristen Hays stands in the doorway, an expectant look on her fine-boned face. As the consulting psychologist and profiler for our unit, she's often ordered to assess our mental fitness after intense cases.

But my shoulders tighten. As kind and helpful as she always seems, I have no desire to be shrink-wrapped and analyzed.

"Dr. Hays." I keep my tone neutral. "What brings you by?"

"You, actually." Hays eases inside, leaving the door open. It's an intentional move meant to signal safety, but it only makes me feel wary. She settles into the visitor's chair, watching me intently. "You were supposed to make an appointment with me. I was beginning to worry you were avoiding talking to me. You know we need to have the required sessions before I can sign off on you returning to work. Really, you shouldn't be here at all unless it's to see me."

The genuine concern in her voice makes me bite back the defensive response on my tongue. "I'm just dropping off some papers."

Kristen raises a delicate brow. "And when are you planning to come in for a session?"

When I remain stubbornly silent, she sighs. "You didn't spend a great deal of time undercover as Natalie Moreau, but it was a very dangerous operation. It's perfectly normal to feel conflicted and displaced."

Her accuracy unnerves me. Is my inner turmoil that obvious?

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. The case was stressful, but nothing I can't handle." Even to my own ears, the words sound hollow. I fight to keep my face impassive as Kris studies me.

"Natalie," she says softly, "it's standard policy for all agents to attend mandatory counseling sessions after undercover work. How about we make a time for—"

A sharp knock at the door saves me from hearing the rest of that suggestion. But as I glance up, my stomach drops.

Sam Wright fills the doorway, his frame nearly boxing out the light. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Hays. Do you mind if I borrow Agent Miller for a quick word?"

Hays' lips thin, but she simply inclines her head and stands gracefully. "Of course." She focuses on me, her expression impossible to read. "I'll be in touch, Natalie."

I force a tight smile, unable to shake the feeling I've just failed some critical test. As Hays glides out, Wright steps in and closes the door behind him. My office instantly feels two sizes too small.

"So, you're back." Wright's voice is neutral as he sits in the chair Kris Hays vacated.

"I just had some final documents to return. Didn't realize I needed permission to come into my own office."

Wright raises his palms in a conciliatory gesture. "No need to get testy. I wanted to touch base about precautions now that de Luca's out on bail. We should move you to a safe house until she's back in custody."

His assumptions ignite my simmering frustration. Not once has he bothered to ask me what I want.

"I'd prefer to avoid going into protective custody."

Wright's mouth tightens, a dangerous glint entering those flat eyes. "Nat, be reasonable. De Luca has an ax to grind after you sent her to jail. She could make a move against you at any moment. I won't allow that."

The ferocity edging his voice surprises me. Sam Wright has always been overprotective, but this seems…personal. And his commanding tone sparks my defiance. I'm not some fragile damsel in distress.

Leaning forward, I meet his stare directly. "Putting my life on hold indefinitely isn't an option. If I take precautions, I'll be fine on my own."

"This isn't up for debate. I have a safe house arranged. I'll handle the protective detail myself." Sam must read the objection on my face, because his expression tightens. "You reporting to me ensures complete secrecy. We can't risk involving other agents."

A caustic retort burns my tongue, but I swallow it down. I don't require babysitting to handle one mafia princess. Tempting though she may be...

"I understand the need for prudence." I slip some steel into my tone. "But as I said—repeatedly—I'll pass on the protective custody. I can look out for myself."

"Dammit, Natalie." Wright braces his hands on my desk until we're practically nose to nose. "I'm not asking! Don't fight me on this."

I brace my hands right back, anger roughening my voice. "With all due respect,Agent Wright, I don't need a babysitter. I'm trained for this."

"Oh, really?" Wright straightens to his full height, scowling down at me. "Like you were so well trained during the de Luca op? Iwarnedyou not to get too involved. But you lost focus, let her get in your head. Compromised the entire case for a piece of ass!"