If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(88)

"On the way," he said, his gaze catching on the clock on his wall. It was almost five thirty. He got to his feet and grabbed his keys.

"On the way to where?" she asked, as she stood up.

"The Allure nightclub. I have to catch a cheating husband on his way home from work."

"That can't wait?"

"No."

"Maybe I can meet you later—or tomorrow," she said, following him out of the office.

"We can talk in the car."

"Or we could start in the morning."

"We'll start now." He paused at the top of the stairs. "Let's get one thing straight, Special Agent Kate Callaway—I'm in charge of this investigation."

"You're not even with the Bureau anymore, Mr. Scott, so how can you be in charge?"

"Because I am. Because I've spent every day of the last eighteen months looking for the person who killed my partner, and I'm not going to stop until I catch them. If you want to stay, that's the deal."

"You shouldn't be calling the shots," she grumbled.

He shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

"If I leave it, you'll have no one. You'll be on your own," she pointed out.

"That's true. And if you want to walk away from a case that could put away the murderer of a special agent, then you can walk away. God knows you wouldn't be the first."

She stared back at him with doubt in her eyes. "I don't believe anyone just walked away."

"Do you see anyone else here?" he challenged. "You can make excuses. You can tell me the Bureau believes the arsonist is already dead. You can say that terrorist threats and sex trafficking and any other number of other crimes have had to take precedence, but the death of an agent should never be forgotten or go unsolved. Samantha Parker gave her life to the Bureau, and until her killer is in jail, I will be working her case. Got it?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. I'll stay, and I'll follow your lead until you do something stupid. Then the deal is off."

He'd probably already done something stupid when he'd agreed to work with her. But it was too late to back out now. For better or worse he had a partner—for several days anyway.



*



Devin Scott wasn't what she'd expected at all. While he might have been described to her as a burned-out ex-agent with a crazy obsession and a huge chip on his shoulder, no one had mentioned that he was also extremely attractive in a scruffy kind of way, with wavy brown hair, intense dark brown eyes, and a day's growth of beard on his jaw. From the way his jeans and knit shirt clung to his lean, powerful frame, he also appeared to be incredibly fit. Whatever he'd been doing since he'd left the Bureau, he'd obviously kept in excellent shape.

Not that she should be thinking that much about his body. He was a job—just a job. She'd worked with good-looking men before, and his arrogant cockiness was nothing new, either. She had three older brothers who were as alpha as they come, and as a woman in a predominantly male field, she knew how to hold her own. She just hadn't expected to have to fight for an assignment that she didn't really even want. The only reason she'd said yes was because her boss had asked her to do him a favor.

She probably should have walked away when she had the chance, but as soon as Devin Scott had looked down his nose at her and said, "no thanks," she'd felt compelled to do whatever it took to get the job. She'd always been that way. When someone told her she couldn't do something, she became determined to prove them wrong, no matter what the cost.

The cost now was at least a few more days in the company of one cynical, moody man who might be taking her on a wild-goose chase.

Agent Roman had told her he was ninety-nine percent sure that Devin was just letting grief and guilt cloud his judgment, but it was that one percent of uncertainty that had gotten her the assignment. Agent Roman had sent her to make sure that Devin didn't actually have a case, but she wasn't going to tell Devin that.

Devin flipped the locks on a silver SUV. He opened the passenger door and grabbed a sweatshirt, two empty water bottles, and a couple of books and tossed them into the backseat. She noticed two of those books were on fire investigation. She had a feeling he was an expert in the subject by now.

She slid into her seat and fastened her seat belt while Devin got in behind the wheel. "So tell me about the case," she said, as he started the car.

"How much do you know?"

"Not a lot. I only got the assignment this morning. I did a quick read-through, and I know that your partner, Agent Samantha Parker, was profiling a serial arsonist when she died in a fire with the man believed to be the arsonist—Rick Baines, a wanna-be firefighter."

"Baines didn't do it," Devin said flatly, not a hint of doubt in his voice.

"There appeared to be a great deal of evidence against him."

"He matched a general profile, but not the one Sam was working on. He didn't do it," Devin repeated. "The real killer is still out there, and he's going to strike again."

She thought about his words and the other piece of information that Agent Roman had given her before she left. "I was told that you thought you had a lead eight months ago and that it didn't pan out."

He shot her a dark look. "That doesn't mean I'm wrong now."