Twisted Fate (Dark Heart Duet #2) - Ella James Page 0,90

and a canary yellow pantsuit, with red lipstick, and the first thing I notice is the look of panic on her face.

“Elise, we’ve got…things.”

“What do you mean?”

She waves, her brown eyes popping open wider. “Blake Barnes is here. He’s from the FBI?”

“Okay.” I give her a so-what look, even as my heart is beating harder. Instinctually, I glance down, worrying my bump is visible through my suit’s coat. But it’s not. I frown back up at Fatima. “So what’s the news? Why is he here?”

She starts walking briskly toward the conference rooms, beckoning me like she’s in charge, which I find slightly annoying. “We’ve got breaking news. Aren—the leader of the Armenian mob, or the most prominent faction in—”

“I know who that is,” I say with a tight smile.

“Of course. You haven’t been to meetings lately, but I forget sometimes he got you detailed. Anyway, the FBI’s got Aren on the hook for all sorts of crazy stuff. Some weapons that are like, mass destruction status—for example, one’s basically an exploding drone—which Aren sold to two domestic terrorist organizations. So much drug stuff, like…so much. They have proof that his people are trafficking drugs through four different airports—”

“This is great information, but can you explain—before we reach the conference rooms—why this is breaking news? Especially if it’s all in their court?”

She nods, arching her brows. “It’s because Aren turned on Luca Galante.”

I can feel myself pale, but I nod quickly. “Still, what does that have to do with us?”

“They want to consult our committee. So we could maybe roll it into one giant investigation. I guess they think that it’s more sensible to take it that way…rather than through our office. I don’t know. But Blake is here. It’s kind of exciting. This could be a huge day for our team!”

It takes every ounce of strength in me to blink coolly and set my face like I’m mildly annoyed. “Well, it may be. Or they may be out of bounds. We’re building our cases from what we got from the precincts. If we prosecute, it will be ours, not theirs.”

“What about collegiality,” she says, but her voice fades at the end.

“I’m a young, new D.A. I don’t want to be shown up by some Captain America type from the FBI.” I shrug, as if it doesn’t really matter.

Oh my God, I’m going to hurl. I open my briefcase and grab a peppermint, hold one out to her. “Would you like one?”

“I would. Thank you. Got that latte breath.”

“Thank you for telling me about this, Fatima. You’ve done nothing but great work, and I’m really grateful for that. Let’s see what he says.”

She pulls the door open to conference room one, and I step inside. The room is full. I don’t know how she missed this fact, but it’s not just one guy from FBI. It’s two guys and two girls, and they’re gathered at my podium. One of them—a blonde woman—is jerking my projector screen down.

“Well, hello.” I slip effortlessly into attorney mode, giving them a calculated look of chastisement. “It seems you all are setting up shop in my conference room.”

I can tell immediately who’s in charge, and for once, it’s not one of the women. It’s a tall, broad-shouldered guy I assume must be Blake Barnes.

“Madam D.A. It’s nice to see you. We’d like to coordinate with your team on something I think we both consider a priority,” he says.

“Yes, well, we would like an invite on our Google calendar.” I arch a brow.

“We’re moving fast, but I’m sorry about that. Our superiors need to make a decision fast about Aren Alexanian and some people who work below him. We’d like to be sure we aren’t overlapping with charges or shutting down better work coming from your team. We have an agent who has formed a relationship with Aren, and she trusts him. She would like to accept his evidence against the Arnoldi family and reduce his time. He’s going to prison either way, but he might not get as long if he can push this stuff through on Luca Galante. Anyway, Fatima”—he waves at her—“mentioned you have compiled evidence on the Arnoldi family. We thought it would be nice to compare notes.”

My gaze shifts to Fatima, who’s doing the olive-skinned girl’s version of blushing. I frown from her to Captain America and back to her.

“Oh, I see,” I say pointedly, although not rudely. “So you guys have a plan already.” I wiggle my brows at Fatima, who