Alan’s eyes swung to the left.
Emilie scowled. “I merely stopped by for a drink and possibly some sex. I got turned down on all fronts. Nobody turns
me down. Unless they’re trying to hide something.”
Rafe shook his head. “Just not interested. You don’t really do it for me. I’m curious though. Was the attempted questioning about the night I killed the old man part of the come-on? Because if it was, you’re rusty.”
And just like that, her mask slipped. She wanted to appear aloof, but instead she just looked jilted and vindictive. She’d completely forgotten about their audience.
“Shut the fuck up. I know you had another reason for going there. How do I know your little band of assassins didn’t turn on you? I know your type, and sooner or later, Alan will know it too. I’m waiting for you to trip up. Once a thief and a murderer, always a thief and a murderer.”
Rafe ignored the twinge of pain somewhere near his heart. She was right. He was a murderer. Not a thief though.
“I’m sorry, but you have to amend your statement.” He shrugged. “The term is assassin. An assassin that you and your agency personally used to carry out things that you were too chickenshit to handle yourselves. Any blood that’s on my hands is on yours too.”
Emilie turned her attention to Alan. “He’s being insubordinate.”
Alan shook his head. “No he’s not. He’s a special agent. He’s doing his job.”
“I thought he was retired!” Emilie screeched.
“That paperwork hasn’t been put through yet. Too busy.” Alan looked like he was fighting a smile as Emilie’s face turned bright red. “You seem to be taking this case entirely too personal. Do I need to take this up your food chain?”
She clamped her mouth shut then. Rafe tried very hard not to smirk at that. Unfortunately though, a tiny one might’ve snuck through. He’d never thought that Alan’s refusing to accept his retirement might come in handy, but he sent up a silent prayer of thanks at his old handler’s stubbornness.
“Now, about immunity. I’m not taking you to my witness until you have something for me in writing. And given the Vandergraff activity, I’d hurry.”
Alan pursed his lips. For a long moment he and Rafe had a standoff. Rafe refusing to budge. And Alan waiting him out. But eventually Alan reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and made a call. “I’m going to need an immunity deal in the next thirty minutes.”
Diana’s hands shook as she stared down at the paper. “What is this?”
Rafe’s gaze was hard and unflinching. She could see the love, but more than anything she saw the determination. He nodded at the man, then the woman. “These are agents Granger and Durand. FBI and Interpol. And this is your freedom. Sign it.”
She had no idea what was happening. When they had come in this morning, he’d brought her in, told someone that she was a walk-in, and then some guy had led her down to this office. Which, in all honesty, looked more like an interrogation room, all fluorescent lighting and linoleum floors. He’d told her someone would be in to talk to her in no time. But she had been waiting over an hour.
Next thing she knew, Rafe was walking into the room accompanied by a gorgeous redhead that reminded her of Jessica Rabbit, and a middle-aged, stern-looking, thin-lipped man.
He hadn’t said a word, just handed her the paper. Her eyes scanned the document. It was an immunity deal. Oh hell. They knew. And now her brothers were going to come for Rafe. Because the more she read, the more she saw the deal was just for her. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Rafe leaned forward, planting his hands on the table. His voice was soft but pleading. “There is no other choice. You sign this, you’re protected. You don’t”—his eyes shifted to the left—“and they’ll throw you to the wolves. So please, for the love of God, sign the fucking document.”
A shiver ran through her, and she took the pen that he offered. This was not their deal. This was not what she wanted to do. But the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. That agreement was shit right now. Even though she’d come in here to protect him, he was now the one protecting her.
And from the looks of the other two in the room, she was going to need all the help she could get. She took the pen and added her signature before she handed it back to him. The relief flooded his face immediately, and the tension around his mouth eased. Then he mouthed, thank you.
He took the document and handed it to the other man. “Immunity.” He turned his gaze to the redhead. “Now you can’t touch her.”
“Rafe, I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“It’s okay, Diana. I need you to tell them everything. All of it. Leave nothing out.”
She took a deep breath. “I guess this part you know. My father, he died when I was thirteen. You were there obviously.” She cast her gaze downward. “After he was killed, I was sent away to boarding school. After I finished secondary school, I went to Penn. I knew nothing about father’s businesses or what my brothers actually did. All I knew was that my father left me a trust fund. He’d always been adamant about that. That each of us have money of our own. He made us memorize the numbers backward and forward so we could do it in our sleep, and we could always access our funds. He set up my accounts, along with my brothers’. So I know their numbers as well. Those will come in handy for you later, so maybe you can track their movements or something.”
The redhead, Emilie Durand, scoffed. “We’ll need your accounts too.”
“You can have it. I don’t want any of that money now that I know how he acquired it.”
Rafe shook his head. “We’ll go ahead and leave your accounts alone for now. Your mother’s family was wealthy. I’m pretty sure she left you some money in there as well. So let’s deal with your brothers first, and then we’ll talk about you. Continue.”