Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(82)

He glanced down at the package in his hand. It was the final piece to the puzzle he needed to take care of. To be on the safe side, just in case someone was onto him, he had put a plan in place, one he hoped would work. The package in his hand was a fake. He’d hired a courier to make sure the real thing got to its intended destination.

He stepped out of his office and the first person he ran into was Special Agent Felton. Damn, just his luck. It seemed the man had been too visible lately, asking questions and making Weaver wonder if perhaps Felton was onto him. The last thing Weaver needed was to start getting paranoid. Felton had no reason to suspect him of anything. As far as Felton was concerned, Weaver was one of the good agents.

“Going someplace, Special Agent Weaver?” Felton asked, noting the package in his hand.

Why had Felton called him by his full title today, not Agent Weaver or just Weaver? Was it deliberate? “Yes. My wife wants me to mail this off to her parents in Florence.” Just in case he was stopped for some reason, the package was addressed to Leigh’s parents in Italy, just like he’d told Felton. Inside the package were souvenirs Leigh would send to them on occasion.

“That’s nice of her.”

Weaver forced a smile. “I have a nice wife.”

“Yes, you do,” Felton responded, looking at him strangely. “Tell Leigh she hasn’t invited me and Harriet to dinner in a while. The four of us should get together.”

“I’ll make sure I tell her that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in a hurry to get to the post office before they close.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.”

Weaver left the FBI building and kept glancing over his shoulder as he walked to his car in the parking garage. He had opened the door and slid in the seat when a text message came across his phone. He checked it. It was a reminder from Leigh to pick up a dozen eggs on the way home.

He put on his seat belt and started the ignition. The moment he did so, he heard a strange sound. When he realized what the sound meant, it was too late. Within seconds, the car exploded.

*

“PACKAGE FOR J. B. SWEET.”

Manning Carmichael looked up from the stack of papers to stare at the young man standing in front of his desk. “I’ll sign for it.”

“I was instructed to make sure J. B. Sweet gets it.”

“And she will. I’m her personal assistant. I can take care of it.”

The courier shook his head. “Sorry, pal. I got strict orders to hand this to J. B. Sweet and only J. B. Sweet. No one else. I got a big tip to follow those orders, and I intend to earn every cent.”

Manning rolled his eyes, thinking this guy better be glad he was in a good mood today. Otherwise, he would tell him just what he could do with his delivery. “Fine, have it your way.” He smiled. At least it would give him the chance to interrupt whatever was going on in his boss’s office. Her husband, Dalton Granger, had arrived over an hour ago and hadn’t left yet. Knowing those two, Manning’s imagination was running wild as to what was going on behind the locked office door.

He pressed the intercom and couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the annoyed voice who answered, sounding breathless. “What is it, Manning?”

“Sorry for the interruption, Jules,” he lied, “but a courier is here to deliver a package that he claims he can only put in your hands.”

He heard the expletives that came from Dalton and the giggles from Jules as she tried shushing her husband. “Okay, give me a minute and I’ll be right out.”

Manning clicked off the phone and looked up at the courier. “You might as well take a seat. It will probably be more than a minute.”

Fifteen minutes later the door to J. B. Sweet’s office opened and Jules Bradford Granger walked out. Manning figured that most people were surprised to learn that J. B. Sweet was a woman. Since a majority of people preferred having a man handle their investigative work, Jules had come up with the ingenious idea to use her first and last initials as well as her mother’s maiden name for her business; hence the moniker J. B. Sweet.

“Hello,” she greeted the young man with a huge, bright smile.

Manning shook his head, knowing the effect Jules had on most guys. Manning would be the first to admit his boss and good friend was gorgeous. The young man was all but drooling and couldn’t keep his eyes off Jules while she signed for the packet.

“Thanks!” the courier said, smiling like a dimwit.

“No problem.”

The young man walked out of the office, whistling like Jules had made his day.

Jules studied the packet and then noticed Manning was staring at her while shaking his head. “What?”

Manning was surprised she had to ask. He figured she must not have noticed her hair was all mussed up, making her look like a hot, sexy goddess.

“Pardon me for saying,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “but since you and Dalton are married, can’t the two of you take it home?”

Jules smiled as if she didn’t have one shameful bone in her body. Then she reached out and playfully pinched his cheek. “Oh, Manning, yes, we could and eventually we will. If you’re feeling jealous, then I suggest you seriously start looking for a partner.”

She tucked the packet under her arm, went back into her office and locked the door behind her.