Blown Away. Elle James
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Sean hated that he’d been gullible enough to fall for Royce’s technique. “Sneaky bastard.”
Royce’s brows rose. “We do whatever it takes.”
Meaning Sean had to get in with TJ or any other staff member in order to determine who the hell backed that bombing. “Okay, I’ll work with TJ.” But he would not fall for her again or lose his perspective.
Sean’s boss gave him a slap on the back. “Thought you’d see it my way.”
Royce may think he had it all sewn up, but Sean knew TJ Barton wasn’t a pushover. She might see things in an entirely different light. So much for keeping his distance from the one woman who could blow his cover. “I hope she sees it your way, too.”
“That’s where you turn on the McNeal charm.”
It would take a lot more than charm to get under TJ Barton’s defenses after Dindi.
A whoop went up from the computer lab.
Royce turned and stepped out into the hallway. “Let’s go see what Tim found.”
AT EIGHT O’CLOCK the following morning, TJ had already been at work for two hours. Just because they’d lost Congressman Haddock didn’t mean the work went away. He hadn’t been the only official lost in the bombing. They’d also lost Bryce Chumley, the legislative director, and Monique Tyler, Haddock’s executive assistant. Additional duties of their lost comrades were divvied out to the remaining already overloaded staff. The projects everyone had been working transferred to other congressmen within the party for oversight.
So, why waste time pretending to sleep when there was more work to be done than this one legislative assistant could accomplish? With testimonies to read, reports to write and condense, documents to file and recommendations to make, sleep became a highly overrated commodity.
Who was she trying to kid? She hadn’t slept all night because every time she closed her eyes, she saw headlights beaming in her rearview mirror. If not the headlights, Sean McNeal stared at her from the pile of rubble standing where the American embassy had been. She thought she’d had nightmares before Sean rose from the dead. His revelation about the bombing possibly originating from the Rayburn Building had her alternating between scared and angry all night long.
The carpet next to her bed lay flat with the amount of pacing she’d done into the wee hours. And the more she paced, the madder she steamed. Her anger stemmed from the so-called American who had killed other Americans. She also couldn’t deny her anger at Sean McNeal for letting her mourn his death when all along he’d been alive and well. If Sean had stepped into her apartment last night, she couldn’t have been held responsible for her actions.
The secret inner part of her finally won out and rejoiced that he hadn’t in fact died. After all the grief, her heart lightened for the first time in the weeks since her return. But that didn’t excuse him for leading her to believe he was dead. She still wanted to give back a little of the anguish he’d caused her. Her anger spiked higher when she considered revenge on a live Sean McNeal when she should be more concerned about a killer running loose in the halls of the Rayburn Building.
Who could it be?
A knock sounded at her door and TJ’s heart thudded against her chest. Instead of wading through the stacks of documents awaiting her attention, she’d been reviewing her own list of possible suspects and wondering which ones Sean had already checked out.
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