East End (Hear No Evil Trilogy #1) - Nana Malone Page 0,32

to be very clear on who was the predator and who was the prey. “I have to say, I’m impressed. It was at the hospital gala, right? When I was so busy falling into your eyes and you were flirting with me."

That earned me a scoff. "Please, when I flirt, you'll know.”

A smile teased my lips. The more she defied me and fought back, the harder I became. "I know Interpol plays by a different set of rules, but you ought to play by the rules of the country you are stationed in, and illegal bugging is a big no-no."

"Good thing I would never do such a thing. I’m a good little agent."

Fuck, I was so hard.

As if she could read the direction of my thoughts, she perked up. "Also, Mr. Hale, dare I ask, how have you gotten hold of my phone number?"

"Ingenuity."

"Right. Ingenuity."

"I decided to call you to tell you that whatever you think you're doing, you're in way over your head. You need to back off."

"That's the thing, Mr. Hale. I have a tendency not to give up on anything. I mean, of course, that’s if I was interested in you. Which I'm not."

I chuckled then even as I rubbed the soft silk of her shawl and inhaled. "You are intriguing, Agent Kincade. So let me help you out. Why don't you tell me what it is you want from me, and I'll tell you if I can give it to you or not."

She’d disappeared from my camera feed, and I could hear rustling, as if she was moving around in her bed. "Mr. Hale, I promise that you don't have anything I want."

"Are you sure about that? I think you're intrigued by me. I think you can feel the hum between us. I think that after that kiss, you could still taste me. Hell, I would wager you can still taste me right now. You know that low pulsing between your thighs? The one that you've been trying to ignore? The one that you've been telling yourself isn't good for you? That's because of me. I make you feel that way. And it really, really is a shame that you thought you could get away with bugging me. Because I’ve made a decision, and I don't intend to be fair." I rubbed the silk of her shawl with my fingers again, the faint hint of honeysuckle making me ache.

"First of all, Mr. Hale, I want to remind you that you're talking to an Interpol agent. Second of all, I'm not afraid of you. I have dealt with bigger and badder men. And I put them in jail too. You poke at me, and I'll poke at you."

"Oooh, kinky. Should I remind you that you fired the first shot?"

There was another beat of silence. "You can't prove that I bugged you, so it’s a stalemate."

"That's the best part. I don't need proof. You're the one who's afflicted with that burn, not me. So since it's open season, I should probably mention to you that I really, really like the shorts you’re wearing."

There was a hitch in her breath, and I could hear her swallow. "What?"

"They’re cute. And also, you should probably close the blinds of your flat. A T-shirt that says, 'Woke up fine as hell' and boy shorts? While I appreciate the view, I will say, so does half of London."

She came back into the living room and whipped around, searching for me somewhere on the street. "You arsehole."

“If you say so.”

"You want my address? I can give it to you. Come find me anytime."

I liked her. She was fire and spunk, and just a bit shy of crazy. And I wanted her. And that was a real big fucking problem.

The real question was, what was I going to do about her attempt to tap us? Because if she tapped my fucking wallet and I hadn't been paying attention, what else had she gotten her hands on? "Sleep tight, Agent Kincade. We'll be speaking again soon."

7

East

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I mumbled.

Bridge's voice was mellow as he chuckled. "Yeah, I pressed the knobs and buttons, hoping I’d get it right. Right?"

A feeling of unease settled over me. "Jesus fucking Christ, all you have to do is look at the cameras and make sure no one's in this hallway. How hard can that be?"

I could hear the sounds of the birthday party in the background as Ben chimed in. "Bridge, stop fucking with him.

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