Sweet Captivity

I sighed. I was certainly the polar opposite of the brunette bombshell Dex had fallen for: perfect, gorgeous, sensual Chloe Martin. No wonder he was smitten with her instead of me.

Cruelly familiar pain knifed through my chest at the thought of them together, perfectly gorgeous and perfectly happy. Grimacing, I closed the connection to his webcam and threw myself back into my work.

“What are you doing?” I recognized the masculine voice, but I still jolted at its proximity.

I whirled in my office chair to face Jason Harper, the agent I’d been working for over the last few weeks.

Working with, I internally corrected myself, even though it didn’t feel that way. Jason tended to bark orders, and I tended to comply. We were supposed to be equals, even if he did have seniority as a field agent. But Jason had a commanding presence about him, and when his green eyes flashed, I jumped to obey.

“Sam,” he prompted me in that stern tone that made my insides quiver with unease. I snapped to attention, my gaze fixing squarely on him rather than darting around the room in my familiar nervous pattern. “What are you doing?” he asked again, somewhat impatient. He peered behind me at my computer, squinting at the code scrolling across the screen. He’d have an easier time reading it if it were Cyrillic script, and Jason didn’t know a word of Russian.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, knowing he wouldn’t approve of my activities. I mean, he wouldn’t like the stalking thing, but he’d be more annoyed at my personal distraction from my work. Jason and I were supposed to be working a case together, off the books. We were tracking the shadowy Division 9-C, a branch of a clandestine organization we knew little about. Well, we knew they were bad guys, and they needed to be taken down. That was enough for me.

Jason was the muscle on the ground, and I was the brains behind the operation. Or the tech goddess. I’d take either title, really.

Jason’s dark brows rose up to his neatly-styled black hair. “Nothing,” he mimicked me in a reproving monotone. “Do you want to try that again? The truth this time, Sam.”

I shifted on my chair and cut my eyes away. My gaze landed on the water cooler, the worn navy carpet, the shiny spot where the fluorescent lights caught on Jason’s highly polished leather shoes; anywhere but meeting his steady stare.

“You don’t want to know,” I mumbled. “Anyway, don’t we need to get out and run surveillance on Moreno? I can fill you in on the other thing on the way.”

The other thing was our Division 9-C investigation. Our official assignment with the FBI was hunting notorious drug lord Cristian Moreno, who had moved his business into Chicago in recent months after withdrawing from New York. He’d been pushing the date rape drug Bliss, and he was using it to start a human trafficking ring.

Division 9-C might be bad guys, but Moreno was his own special brand of evil.

The toe of Jason’s shoe tapped against the carpet in a condemning, staccato rhythm, but he decided not to press me. “Fine,” he allowed. “Let’s go. We can talk in the car.”

I blew out a relieved breath. I hated having all that alpha male power focused on me. It was bad enough dealing with men on a normal basis, much less working alongside walking testosterone like Jason. He was nice, but that didn’t mean he didn’t intimidate the hell out of me.

At least he kept a respectful distance while we walked across the field office and toward the elevator that would take us down to the parking garage. Once we were trapped inside the confines of the tiny metal box, I shifted my body into the corner to keep as much space between us as possible. It was a matter of habit. I wasn’t afraid of Jason, but I never allowed anyone into my personal space if I could help it. I didn’t do people. I much preferred to sit behind my computer screen, where I was a safe distance from everyone on the web, not to mention completely anonymous.

Now that I was a field agent, I had to actually interact with people. Talk to them. Look them in the eye.

Moving into the field had been a stupid idea. Reckless. And my involvement in this secret mission for Jason was even more reckless.

But it was too late to go back now. As the FBI’s best tech analyst, I had a special skill set that Jason needed. I might have transferred to field agent six months ago, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten all my hacking skills. There was no one else who could do this job for Jason, so I’d step up and be the hero. Heroine. Whichever. Was it sexist to apply gender to the term? Probably. I couldn’t keep track of social norms.

When the elevator finally came to a stop and the doors opened, Jason gestured for me to exit first. I knew he was trying to be a gentleman, but I’d have preferred to follow him. As it was, I had to scoot past him, my body almost making contact with his.

He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. Or if he did, he was accustomed to it and didn’t really think much of what most people would term Sam’s odd behavior. Well, that was the nice term.

Weirdo. Freak.

The derogatory name-calling didn’t faze me. Not one bit.

“Talk,” Jason ordered when we were safely in the privacy of the car. I hadn’t trusted anyone in the field office. Well, no one but Jason. If we were overheard discussing our secret operation, we could be betrayed.

Dex wouldn’t betray us. I knew the truth, but I wasn’t willing to pull him into this. For one, I was still struggling with the personal sense of betrayal he’d inflicted when he’d fallen in love with Chloe instead of me. For another, Jason had insisted on keeping our op as under-the-radar as possible. This wasn’t an official investigation. That meant limiting our manpower. Womanpower. Person-power.

God, this sexism thing was hard.

“Sam,” he said my name sharply, calling my attention back to him. I could tell he was getting impatient with my wayward thoughts.

“Right,” I said quickly. “Division 9-C has their own hacker. They set up false identities for Natalie. There’s an electronic footprint somewhere. I’m working on tracing it, and that will lead us to more information on the organization they represent. Their hacker is good, but I’m better. I just need a little more time.”

“And how do you know you’re better?” Jason challenged.

“Because I’m me,” I said coolly, utterly confident in my capabilities. “You focus on protecting Natalie, and I’ll focus on getting us a new lead.”