Savage Queen (The Dark Elite #3) - Eva Ashwood Page 0,39

what the fuck he wants.

Hardly breathing, hardly even seeing where I’m going, I move in the direction the older man went, rounding the corner and heading down another aisle.

The FBI agent is lingering at the end of the aisle, looking at the array of ice cream set out neatly on shelves behind the glass doors. When he sees that I’ve followed him, he nods, his gaze catching mine for just a second before he turns and heads toward the back of the store, his stride relaxed and easy. I try to keep mine the same, darting a quick glance around as my pulse thunders in my ears.

A moment later, he pushes open a door marked Employees Only and ducks inside. I follow him.

“Thank you, Grace,” he says, turning to face me and keeping his voice low. “You made the right choice. We don’t have much time, so I’ll speak quickly.”

A chill washes over my skin. I don’t like the way he calls me Grace, as if we’re old friends who’ve known each other for years. I’m sure it’s part of his training, a tactic to try to build trust and familiarity, but it sets my nerves on edge. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the course of all this insanity, it’s that I can’t trust anyone.

“What do you want?” I ask, licking my suddenly dry lips.

“My name is Agent Miles Brady.” He flashes me his badge quickly as proof. “I know about your past with the Novak syndicate—your father’s involvement in the organization. I also know about your present position as well, and I think I can help you, if you help me. Do you think you can do that?”

I’m silent. I’m not agreeing to anything until I read the fucking fine print. The woman I was a few months ago, the one who was so dead set on building the perfect all-American, suburban life in Washington? She would’ve jumped at the chance to return to that life. But now I don’t ever want to go back.

I care about the men who stole me too much to ever want to leave them.

And maybe this man would insist all I’m feeling is Stockholm Syndrome or something, but I know that’s not true.

I also know enough not to trust anyone who says they’re on my side, especially not just because they have a badge.

This man is dangerous, even if he’s trying to help by doing the right thing. This man will always be my enemy, no matter how much he’s trying to help me, because he’s the enemy of the four men I’m slowly falling in love with. Instead of seeing this man as a savior, I see him as a threat. I’m terrified of what his presence means, and I’m already bracing myself for the worst.

Noticing that I haven’t spoken, Agent Brady gives a nod, as if accepting my silence as a part of our negotiation.

“I’ll explain myself,” he continues. “We’ve been investigating your late fiancé for years. Some of his under the table dealings finally sent up a red flag, but too late for us to put him behind bars. Still, it led us to a man named Leland Bennett, and then of course, to you.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” I say stiffly. I don’t know how much he knows, and I’m not going to give him anything he could use against me or the men. But I won’t let him drag me away thinking he’s rescuing me. “I’m not. So you don’t have to—”

“Grace.” Agent Brady cuts me off, his voice dropping. “You have to listen to me. I know that your position within the Novak Syndicate is… intricate. But believe me when I say, these are not people you want to associate with. They’re into some bad things. Some awful, awful stuff.”

I grit my teeth. I know they’re mafia men. I don’t need him to tell me that. If he’s trying to spook me into running from them again, he’s gonna need to try harder than this.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say shortly. “I’m not—”

His eyes go hard. “They’re running a human trafficking ring.”

What?

I’m not sure if I actually say the word or just think it, but I’m sure shock is written plainly across my face.

No… that can’t be true.

I don’t want to believe that. I refuse to believe that.

“No, they aren’t.”

It’s a stupid fucking thing to say. The kind of thing a first-grader says to try to win an argument. The equivalent of just stuffing my fingers