Stalked - By Allison Brennan Page 0,7
he disliked her. Which was silly because they’d never met, he’d never specifically said anything to her, and she couldn’t think of a reason he would have an issue with her. That he had been watching her so closely made her doubly nervous.
But she wanted to talk to Sean about Rosemary Weber; unfortunately, he was on a commercial flight from Sacramento and wouldn’t be landing until late tonight. Lucy considered calling Hans Vigo but immediately dismissed that idea. Now that Assistant Director Vigo was liaison between Quantico and headquarters, she didn’t want to use her connections for information.
She tried Suzanne, wanting to talk to her without the ear of Kean, but she didn’t answer her phone. Running out of options of who she could talk to, Lucy wondered if Kate was still on campus. Her sister-in-law was the cybercrimes instructor at Quantico and one of the few people Lucy trusted.
Lucy called Margo and told her she’d meet up with her and the others at the cafeteria, then went to find Kate. She crossed the campus to the Classroom Building, where Kate’s long, narrow office had more computer equipment than airspace. Lucy knocked but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door.
Lucy came face-to-face with the back of a broad-shouldered man, standing right in front of Kate’s desk. Kate was facing him, the backs of her thighs against the edge. She was saying through clenched teeth, “I’m not going to forget.” Kate’s eyes widened when she saw Lucy, and she sidestepped the man in front of her. Her mouth was a tight, thin line. “Lucy.”
Lucy processed what she’d walked into. While she hadn’t seen them in a compromising position, it was obvious that Kate knew the man standing much too close to her—and knew him well.
“Excuse me.” Lucy’s voice was quiet; she was surprised she could say anything at all.
The man turned. Reva had called Special Agent Rich Laughlin “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” but Lucy didn’t see it. Right now all she saw in his pale eyes was hatred.
“Kincaid.” Irritation laced his voice.
Her skin crawled, and she considered that Kate’s meeting might not have been friendly. She was actually relieved, because for a brief moment she’d thought the worst—that Kate was cheating on Dillon. Of course that wasn’t the case, and that Lucy had even thought it for a second made her feel guilty.
She straightened. “Sorry, sir.”
“You should wait for a response before entering a room,” Kate snapped. “What is it?”
“It’s not important. I’ll talk to you later.”
She left Kate’s office, heart racing, wondering what had just happened. She’d known Kate for seven years, had lived with her and Dillon for most of that time, and was closer to her than she was to her own two sisters. Kate could be sharp and abrasive, but Lucy had never heard that tone directed at her.
Lucy needed to talk to Kate, but not while Agent Laughlin was anywhere around. She was too upset to meet her friends for dinner, so made a detour to Supervisory Special Agent Tony Presidio’s office.
The basement was a fully self-contained two-story bomb shelter designed and built in the Hoover years so the FBI could continue operating in the event of a major national disaster. Though the Behavioral Science Unit and most other divisions had moved to off-site facilities or elsewhere on campus, there were still people, including Tony, who worked in the windowless offices and would until renovations and additions were complete.
Tony taught criminal psychology and Lucy had liked him from day one. He hadn’t been teaching at Quantico long—Class 12-14 was his third. He’d come from the Hostage Rescue Team and was unusually calm and even tempered. While many of her classmates found Tony intimidating and unapproachable, Lucy had developed a kinship with him over the three weeks she’d been here. Lucy enjoyed listening to his stories and asking questions, and she suspected he appreciated the genuine interest she showed in his experience.
Lucy was about to knock on Tony’s partly opened door but noticed him hunched over his desk, head in one hand, reading a thick file. He was one of the older agents, in his early fifties and nearing mandatory retirement, but he was physically fit and Lucy ran with him several days a week.
She turned to leave, not wanting to disturb him with something trivial. In fact, she’d almost forgotten why she’d sought him out in the first place.
He glanced up as she turned away. “Kincaid?”
“Sorry to bother you. I was on my