Page 103 of When He Defends

“Didn’t expect charginghorsesto come at me,” Gray threw back. “Sorry. They caught me by surprise. I’ll be looking for a stampede next time.”

There wouldn’t be a next time. Cass had thought that the other Feds would have Gray’s back. That team of his had certainly disappointed Cass.

He didn’t like disappointments.

“I held up my end of the deal,” Gray told him.

Ah, right. “And you wonder if I did you the favor that you requested?” Cass inclined his head. “I am a man of my word.” His word was law in his world. “Followed her ex. Might have tapped into his phone lines. Traced his calls. Did all my illegal due diligence.”

Emerson tapped closer. “You traced Nathaniel’s calls?”

Hell, yes, he had. “Want to guess who called the island and spilled all about you two not being a couple to Hannah?” Because, yeah, he’d been briefed on that bit already. But hehadn’tbeen given the opportunity to share what he knew. Until now.

“That sonofabitch,” Gray snarled.

“Good guess.” Cass rocked back on his heels. “Nathaniel made the call, but considering he also made an early morning visit to have coffee with the senator and her always-present guard Owen, I’m pretty sure he was following their orders.” He studied Emerson. As much of her as he could see with Gray in his way. “The senator doesn’t like you playing FBI agent, Emerson. She was ready to blow up your world in order to get you back home.”

“Emerson could have died when our covers were blown.” Rage rumbled in Gray’s voice.

“You almost did die.” Emerson stepped to his side. Her hand curled around his arm. “I can’t believe she did that. It’s so?—”

But Gray’s head had turned toward Emerson. The two stared at each other. Long and intense and, yeah, Cass started to feel uncomfortable. Like he hadn’talreadybeen uncomfortable standing around in the FBI office. The place was hardly his cup of tea.

Then again, he didn’t drink tea. He preferred whiskey.

“You can believe it,” Gray said, voice soft. “You’ve been denying the truth for a long time. It’s why you came to me. Time to shine a light in the dark, baby. But when the light hits, what you see isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Yeah.” Cass scraped a hand over his jaw. “You two are talking in code, I’m feeling left out, and I’m damn pissed that I didn’t get to kill anyone today. Time for me to make my exit before I wind up shoved in an interrogation room.” But, one more thing first… “Thank you,” he said, the words gruff.

Gray’s head swung back toward him.

“I’ll pay back what I owe.” He always paid his debts.

“You already did. You kept tabs on her ex.”

Nah. He owed his cousin more. Especially considering Gray could have gotten his spine crushed by those stampeding horses.

Hannah McIntyre would pay for the attack on Gray. Her accomplice would pay. The MC’s reach was far. Deep. Gray had been right on that score. Gray had warned the woman what would be coming.

When the punishment hit, Hannah would only have herself to blame.

Cass sidestepped around Gray. Headed for the door. He slipped into the hallway, more than aware of a few stares slanting his way. But even the Feds weren’t bold enough to actually approach him. They knew he was off-limits.

“You’re Cass Striker.”

He stilled.

He’d never even seen the woman coming. She thrust her hand toward him. “I’m Agnes Quinn.”

He was not going to shake her hand. An MC leader did not shake hands with a Fed in an FBI office. That was like, Underworld Crime Management 101.

Her fingers wiggled. “Are you really as bad as they say?”

Now he had to smile. “Just wait and see.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“The past isn’t pretty. It’s twisted and bloody and, sometimes, you just might be better off leaving the secrets buried. Before you go digging up a grave, make sure you can handle the ghosts that you’re going to wake up.”–Gray Stone