“Like I told you, I aim to please.” Sloane’s voice was teasing. “But I also aim to win.”
“I believe the aim-to-win part. But aim to please?” Derek stopped typing and sat back in his chair. “We’ve been so bombarded with follow-up, I haven’t had the chance to reprimand you. When you left the car, you disobeyed my direct orders. That’s not aiming to please. That’s aiming to defy.”
“You’re right. And in this case, an apology is not forthcoming. So tell me, Special Agent Parker, do you plan to take disciplinary action?”
“Actually, I had a different kind of action in mind.” Derek stood up, leaned forward, and kissed her. “Like another bedroom marathon tonight, and an announcement about our wedding tomorrow.”
“That works.” Sloane ran her fingers over his jaw. She was still so grateful he was alive and all right. The museum gun battle had been a little too close for her. She gave him another slow, deep kiss, then eased away. “I think this behavior counts as a breach of protocol, too.”
“Screw protocol.”
Sloane laughed. “That’s my guy. Bending the rules to suit his needs.”
“Sloane.” Derek caught her hand, his tone and gaze turning abruptly serious. “In case I haven’t said the words, thank you. You saved my life.”
“I love you,” she answered simply. “No other alternative existed.”
“I love you, too. And believe me, I know how that love compels you to protect me at all costs. I’ve been there, too, remember?”
“I remember,” Sloane replied, thinking back to the life-or-death situation she’d found herself in this past spring.
“But you know what?” Derek continued. “You would have reacted with those same instincts, done the same thing, for any fellow agent. That’s just who you are. And why you belong with the Bureau.” An insightful look. “By the way, how’s that right hand doing?”
With a twinge of surprise, Sloane glanced down at her scarred palm. “It’s fine. But how weird. I haven’t thought about it. Not since last week when Connie checked it out and gave me the thumbs-up. No pain. No muscle weakness.” A grateful sigh. “I never believed this day would come.”
“Well, it has.” A cocky grin. “And now I can say I told you so—since I always knew it would.”
Sloane sighed. “I’m going to hear about this for a long time, aren’t I?”
“You bet. Arrogant guys like me love to gloat.”
They were both laughing when Rich poked his head into Derek’s cubicle. “Good. You’re both here. I wanted to fill you in on a few things. Is it a bad time?”
“Not at all.” Derek gestured at the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”
Rich complied. “First and foremost, our agent who was assigned to Johnson is stable. It was touch-and-go for most of the week. But he’s going to make it.”
“That’s the best news you could have delivered,” Derek said fervently. Protecting their own was a Bureau priority. And this time they’d gotten lucky. The Black Eagles couldn’t afford to make a scene by whipping out a subgun and pummeling a guy with bullets outside the Jaspar, so they’d dragged him into an alley at gunpoint, beaten the crap out of him, and clubbed him over the head with a two-by-four. He’d been in bad shape when he was rescued.
“Thank heaven,” Sloane said. “We’ve all been praying for him.”
“Well, the prayers worked.” Rich looked as relieved and happy as Sloane and Derek did. “So that’s the positive update on that front. As for the Black Eagles, I dropped by the hospital again and interviewed the wounded team member—the only one of them who’s still alive. He’s still waffling about talking. But he’s being released into our custody today. Trust me, a day with me will be a lot more grueling than a day in a hospital bed. Give me one interview with him at our Field Office and I’ll have him chattering like a magpie. And you’ll have Xiao Long on all kinds of new counts.”
“That’s great.” Derek’s brows drew together in a frown. “It would be better if we nailed Johnny Liu. But he destroyed every link between himself and all the criminal activities he’s involved in, including the Italian leather goods company that funded the Black Eagles. Xiao handled everything for him. And from the looks of things, he’s not giving Liu up.”
“Of course not. And without Xiao’s testimony, you could never touch Johnny Liu,” Rich stated factually. “There’s no concrete evidence, and no extradition between China and the U.S.”
Derek shrugged. “The point’s moot. Liu will be dead in a few months, anyway. I just wanted to strip him of his precious honor beforehand. But I’m not complaining. He won’t be hurting anyone again.”
“You know Wallace is innocent of everything Liu framed him for, especially funding the Black Eagles,” Sloane inserted quickly. “He’d never—”
“I know,” Derek interrupted. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems proving that Johnson was in the dark on that, just like he was on so much of what Liu did. But buying those stolen paintings—that’s another story. Extenuating circumstances or not, he purchased them knowing they were stolen.”
Reluctantly, Sloane nodded. “I know. I just wish we could use emotional hardship as grounds to reduce the charges.”
“Don’t give up on reduced charges. Remember, Johnson bought those paintings directly from Xiao Long. He met with him, paid him, and was threatened and beaten by Xiao’s enforcer. I’m pretty sure the assistant U.S. attorney will consider a deal if Wallace testifies against Xiao Long.”
“If? You couldn’t stop him.” Sloane’s tone vibrated with anger. “Xiao Long killed Sophie. I’m sure Wallace would prefer to respond in kind. But at least he can feel a small sense of vindication if he helps put the bastard away. The only thing better would be putting him right beside Liu, six feet under.”