Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. #7) - Anna Blakely Page 0,2
daughter. Right?”
Turning to leave, Fuller stopped when one of the guys holding Mike down asked, “What about him?”
The dickhead purposely pressed his knee into the middle of Mike’s back, causing him to grunt. Goddamn, that hurts.
Glancing down at him, Fuller instructed his agents, “Cuff him. Wait until we leave, and then bring him in.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” Mike spoke through a set of clinched teeth as one of the fuckers on top of him cinched their cuffs around his wrists.
“Is that information coming from Michael Bradshaw, CIA Paramilitary Operations Officer?” Fuller grinned. “Or Jay Reynolds, the guy she thinks has been sleeping with her sweet ass?”
“You son of a—” Mike tried fighting the two men again, but it was no use.
“Keep him here until we’re clear. I’ll meet you back at headquarters.” Fuller started to leave again, but then stopped for a second time. “And make sure you bring him in through the front and not the back. Just like you would any other suspect.”
“You sure?” one of the two men asked.
Fuller nodded. “As much as I’d love to see the look on Farrow’s face when she learns the truth about who he really is, letting that particular cat out of the bag too early could screw the pooch on this one.”
Without another word, the asshole finally left Juliet’s apartment. As ordered, the men holding him down waited until he’d driven off before picking him up and planting him on his feet.
“Come on, man.” The bigger of the two nudged him forward. “We’re all on the same side here, right?”
The only side Mike was on was Juliet’s, but damn it...he wouldn’t be any good to her if he continued acting like a full-blown alpha protector.
“Yeah, asshole.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We’re on the same side. So why don’t you take these fucking things off me?”
Tweedle Dum shook his head. “Can’t. You heard the boss. Not until we’re inside the station.”
“You know how this works, Bradshaw.” Tweedle Dee spoke as he took the lead. “Cuffs come off once we have you in a secured room, away from the Volkov chick.”
“It’s Farrow, you prick.” They approached the black SUV. “And how many times do I have to tell you assholes. She’s not associated with her father.”
Tweedle Dee glanced back at him as he opened the back door. “You sure about that? ’Cause Fuller said—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what that douchebag said,” Mike cut him off. “I’ve been working this case for a long fucking time, and I’m telling you, she’s clean.”
“Yeah? Then why did a judge sign off on an order to bring her in?” Tweedle Dum asked.
“Fuck if I know.” But he would damn sure find out.
On their insistence, Mike climbed into the backseat.
“Watch your head,” one of the men warned.
Better watch your fucking back.
The second the door was shut, Mike closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Damn it, these guys were on his side. At least they were supposed to be.
After ten years of playing the game, he was finding it harder and harder to determine the good guys from the bad. For now, he had no choice but to do as Lopez had instructed and go along with this bullshit.
An hour later, he was still waiting in an interrogation room inside Las Vegas’ FBI headquarters. Like a common criminal.
That’s what you’re supposed to be, remember?
The sound of metal clanging together filled the small room as Mike rested his elbows on the table in front of him. Becoming antsier by the minute, his right leg began to bounce as he waited for someone to come in with an update on Jules.
When he was about two seconds away from going postal on all their asses, the door to the room opened and Benjamin Lopez walked in carrying a t-shirt and a manila folder. Of medium height and build, the middle-aged man with his dark hair and pressed suit looked more like a lawyer than a CIA handler.
“Where the hell have you been?” Mike shot out of his chair.
“Relax.” Lopez walked over to him. Pulling a set of keys from his jacket pocket, he tucked the folder under one arm and motioned for Mike’s hands. “Let’s get those off of you.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax. I’ve been sitting in here for over an hour.” He lifted his bound wrists toward the other man. “Where’s Jules?”
Releasing the cuffs, Lopez pocketed both them and the keys before giving Mike the shirt. “Juliet Farrow has been taken into