The bellboy said, “Yes, sir,” and hustled back to his post.
She stared at Knight. He stared back.
Knight broke the growing silence. “It’s time for you to tell me exactly what you saw, Reese. I’m not playing around. This is a major investigation and you either tell me, or you tell my boss.”
“You’d haul me in?” she cried indignantly, focusing on her anger and not the fact that a not-so-subtle sex fantasy involving handcuffs had popped into her head.
“You can bet your little panty-less ass, I would.”
“So this is what I get? And after I gave you some of the best fifteen minutes of my life.”
Knight’s lip twitched.
The cab pulled up to the curb. He opened the door and held his hand out to her. “If we’re going, you’re talking.”
Reese ran through her options. She could walk away from Knight, thereby getting herself hauled in by the Feds for questioning. Sticky questions regarding certain photos she’d taken with her phone would arise. And who knew what the ordeal might entail besides vending machine coffee and government gray walls. Were Feds authorized to strip search?
She shuddered and moved on to option B, which involved getting in the cab with Knight, and spilling her guts. She’d haveto trust him not to cut her out of the deal, that he would let her have the story. That would require sticking close to him, which was almost certain to ensure a great deal of personal sexual satisfaction.
No contest.
She got in the cab, scooting over to make room for Knight and his gun.
When he sat down and shut the door, he gave directions for the wedding to the driver, making her wonder how exactly he had known those little details, since she’d never shared them.
His leg spread out as he got comfortable, knocking against her knee. “Sorry.”
Yeah, sure. And she was sexually disinterested.
His arm came up to rest on the back of the seat behind her head. “As soon as we’re alone, Reese, I want to hear everything. Not just about your tomboy childhood, but what you saw in that envelope and what you plan on doing with it.”
She stared at him, leaning forward to escape his touch as she matched his tone for blandness. They could have been talking about the weather or the price of lattes for all the inflection in his voice. “I saw everything, and I already told you what I plan to do with it.”
“This isn’t a game, Reese.” His eyes narrowed.
Her lips thinned. “I’m not playing. And this isn’t just about me getting a story, the public has a right to know they’re being fleeced.”
“Yes, but not before a case can be made to take the perps to court.” He was still using that calm, low, careful FBI voice that made her feel very tempted to rattle him.
“Of course not.” She leaned back and flipped her hair, turning to the side to smile at him under her long mascara laden lashes.
He stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said with exaggerated innocence, her hands fisting into the soft fabric of her skirt.
“You’re trying to distract me.” His hand went into her hair, tugging her head towards him.
She held her head back so he couldn’t kiss her, which was clearly his intent. “No, I’m not. We can’t talk about details here anyway, so we’re done with this conversation for now. And I just wanted to show you something.”
Reese took a glance at the front seat to make sure the driver wasn’t paying them any attention. He was singing to Celine Dion and gesturing with his fist at the car in front of him.
“Show me what?” Knight tried to tug her to him again, but she wiggled back. He said, “Stop moving so I can kiss you.”
“First I wanted to show you ...” She eased her skirt up past her thighs and lifted her behind a little off the seat.
“That I really am wearing panties,” she whispered, bunching the bottom of her dress around her waist, taking major pleasure in the shock that flooded Knight’s face, followed quickly by a strangled gurgle trailing out of his mouth.
SEVENTEEN