“Don’t worry, there’re about three guys wrestling him to the ground right now,” the woman said, slipping a maternal arm around her.
Reese’s teeth were making a clattering sound like a baby’s rattle. She squeezed her lips shut and sank onto the hard wooden chair the woman pointed out to her in the stockroom.
“You poor thing. It’s not even safe to walk the streets anymore, for crying out loud.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron. “You just sit there and try to relax. I’ll get you some coffee, and the police should be here soon.”
Reese crossed and uncrossed her legs, waiting impatiently. It was a solid five minutes before the woman came back andthe look of sympathy on her face had evaporated. There was no coffee in her hand, either.
“Did you know that man is an FBI agent?”
Reese snorted. “Don’t tell me you fell for that. Just saying you’re an FBI agent doesn’t make you one.”
The woman threw her a chastising look as she headed back towards the door. “The badge, the gun, and the police patting him on the back were enough for me.”
Reese sat up straighter. Okay, this could be bad. “You mean...he really is an FBI agent?”
“Umm-hmm.” With that and a toss of her head, she left. “I’m going to get an autograph for my grandson. He’s into law enforcement.”
Darn it. Reese jumped out of the chair and started pacing. FBI agents should know better than to pursue an innocent civilian before identifying themselves. She wasn’t a mind reader.
She conveniently ignored that he had tried to tell her and had tried to show her his badge.
If he had been lessweirdshe wouldn’t have elbowed him in the gut.
Which technically speaking, meant she had assaulted him.
There was only one thing to do. Grabbing her briefcase and purse she headed for the back door. She was going to hail a cab and put as much distance as she could between her and the crazy man with the chocolate eyes before she found herself in the slammer instead of the Crowne Plaza.
THREE
Derek staredat the floor and tried not to groan out loud. Man, he hadn’t handled a case this badly since he was a rookie. It had never occurred to him that Legs would think he was stalking her.
Nor had he anticipated she would put up such a fight.
Thanks to her quick thinking and tenacity, he was face down on a dirty deli floor with four guys behind him, holding his arms and threatening to sit on him if he made one move.
“Listen, this is all a mistake,” he said to the floor, trying to twist his head. Of all the humiliating things to have happened. He hoped this little escapade wouldn’t get around the office.
They never would have gotten him on the ground if there hadn’t been four of them, and he hadn’t been preoccupied with watching to see where Legs was going. Not to mention the agonizing pain in his foot where her heel had penetrated.
He still might have been able to take them, but at the last second, his bad knee had buckled and he’d gone down when one of these guys had jumped on his back. Now here he was on the damn floor, and his evidence, the compilation of months of planning, was in the back room with a woman who thought he was a serial killer.
“The only mistake you made was pulling your scumbag act here in front of us,” a voice from behind him said, squeezing Derek’s arm for emphasis.
It figured he would encounter an overzealous bunch of Good Samaritans.
“If you get out my wallet, you can see for yourself. I’m a federal agent, and you’re interfering with an investigation.”
“Yeah, right,” the voice scoffed.
He attempted a shrug, but his shoulders were pinned to the floor. “Look for yourself.”
“I’m not digging in your pocket.” Horror was clear in the young deli clerk’s voice.
Derek pulled hard on his hand, freed it a little and pulled out his wallet. He tossed it next to him. “Have a look.”
A moment later, hands eased up. “Is this real?”
Derek took the opportunity to move out from under his captors’ hands and sit up. He brushed dirt off his sweatshirt. “Yes.”