Page 66 of Innocent

His gaze narrows. “Mr. Cruz didn’t send us, sir.”

That makes me pause and study him. “Then who did?”

“We’re not at liberty to discuss this matter, Mr. Walsh. If you want to find out who sent us, then Isuggestyou comewithus.Now.”

It’s weird being addressed as Mr. Walsh again after months of being plain old Jordan.

I also wonder who sent Secret Service after me if not Leo. Maybe the president, or Kev? Perhaps Chris, but wouldn’t they just tell me who it is if it was one of them?

Hell, Kev would have made a personal appearance, if it was him. He’s free to move around in a way Chris and Shae cannot, even with his Secret Service detail.

A second agent appears behind the first. That’s when I realize if I don’t want this to get super embarrassing super-fast, I’d probably better do what they say, because I suspect they’re more determined and stubborn than I am.

They likely have orders they won’t fail to uphold because of a fricking pissy and prissy TA playing hard-to-get.

I’m also reminded of my suit fetish that’s been sorely neglected these six months in the wilderness.

I miss men in suits.

Hey, I was faithful to Leo, but a bitch can look, okay? Especially one as thirsty as I am.

I grab my laptop and shove it and a couple of other things into my messenger bag. “I need to tell them I’m leaving.”

“That’s already been handled, Mr. Walsh,” the second agent says.

Dammit.

Surefeelslike it’s Leo who’s behind this.

When I pick up my phone from my desk and start to slide it into my pocket, the first agent holds out his hand for it.

Well, ofcoursehe does.

“You’ll get it back later, Mr. Walsh,” he says.

Fuck.

I power it off before I hand it over.

He also reaches for my messenger bag, and I surrender it. After a quick search, he returns it. “Thank you, Mr. Walsh.”

I pull on my sweater, because it’s chilly today. “I know the damn drill,” I mutter. “Not my first rodeo.”

I shoulder the strap of my messenger bag across my chest and follow Agent One. The second agent falls in step behind me. My face is positively burning as I keep my eyes down and on the ass of the guy in front of me and not on anyone else who might still be around and watching this little drama play out.

I’m going to fuckingkillLeo.I’m also going to have to come up with some sort of excuse to tell everyone tomorrow who asks why I was practically perp-walked out of here by Hunk 1 and Hunk 2.

I don’t give a shit what this guy says. I’m not under arrest, and I know damn welltheyknow if they said it was Leo summoning me that I likely wouldn’t go with them. Hell, Leo probably told them to flat-out lie to me.

We climb into a black Tahoe sitting parked in the fire lane at the curb out front, me in the back seat, the two agents in front, and we speed away from campus.

I wish I could send Leo a text blasting him for this bullshit, but I guess I can save my anger and give him a dose of it in person. Not that I owe him that respect—anymore—but I don’t want my business ever showing up on the news somewhere because there are text messages of it.

Besides, I’m the one who left. I really don’t have any right to get pissy about this.

Do I?

I mean, sure, this is fucking embarrassing, but…