I looked at him, confusion no doubt covering my face. “Excuse me?”
“Yes,” Hayes answered, all of them ignoring me.
Turning my chair, I looked at Grayson, who was also leaning back in his chair with an ankle resting on one knee. “What the hell is a mark?” I demanded.
“It’s code,” Dominic answered.
I waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, I looked up at Hayes. “Code for what? For who?”
“The FBI.”
“Why—why would the FBI need a code?” I stammered, my pulse jumping.
“Sometimes, our cases involve the feds,” Jake explained, but I didn’t take my eyes off Hayes.
His hand came to the back of my neck again, resting there as he added, “By marking you, it notifies the Bureau that you’re connected with one of us.”
I looked at Grayson. “Was Carrie marked?”
“She still is.”
“It’s protection, Margo,” Dominic said smoothly. “That’s all.”
Hayes’ thumb moved, sweeping back and forth across the edge of my butterfly wing. Slowly, I nodded, remembering Hayes’ words from last night. “Okay.”
“Jake, I need everything on Marcus Bennett and Gordon Samson,” Hayes ordered.
“On it.” Then he was gone.
Ash rose from his seat and gave me a reassuring wink. “We’ll get this taken care of.”
Grayson’s cell began to ring, and he started making his way to the door, stopping in front of me. He looked at me for a few rings; pain etched into his rugged features. Then his eyes cut up to Hayes.
The only one who hadn’t moved from his place was Dominic, and he didn’t look up from the floor as Hayes led me to his office. “Bye, Dominic,” I called.
He was too lost in his own thoughts to respond.
Chapter Sixteen
Hayes
“Grayson still has more to say to me,” Margo muttered as I led her into my office.
“I know,” I admitted, closing the door. Grayson wasn’t going to let her leave the building. Judging by thereaction in his office and given their relationship, it needed to happen, no matter how uncomfortable it would make her. I just hoped he wouldn’t take it too far.
My hand went to the small of her back as I guided her to the small couch in the corner, a place where I usually sat when I was digging through endless paperwork trails, bank account transfers, text messages, call logs, or photos of the targets. Margo plopped down on the couch, a heavy sigh leaving her. I took a few steps back, giving her space. Even though I didn’t want to give it, I knew she needed it.
“Did he say something to you?” she asked, running a hand through her hair. She was nervous—more so than before. “What were you whispering about?”
“He wanted a rundown on how we got here.” I shook my head, staring down at her. “But I know Grayson well enough to pick up his silent signals.”
Margo chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked around my office. “Is he mad at us—I mean, you?” The question was distant, filled with worry.
My hand slid up from the small of her back to her neck, giving it a short but reassuring squeeze. “No, just upset he wasn’t in the loop is all.”
Truth be told, my friend and business partner was probably furious at me. I knew he was pacing back and forth in the conference room, contemplating whether he should try to beat my ass or not. It wasn’t normal—this situation. If it were anyone else, he would’ve been looped in well before I kicked down her door. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Margo, the woman who had been plaguing my mind for over a year.
“That’s pretty,” she whispered to the painting on my wall. She scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes on the painting, her hair shifting. After a few seconds, she rose and crossed the space to admire the art closer.