“No, that luxury is just for us, isn’t it?” Now his gaze had come back to her face. “You’re damn good when it comes to killers. Don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone work quite the way you do. Bass and the other agents on our team—they weren’t looking at Farris.”
No, they’d focused their attention on another man, one county over. A man who was recently divorced, a loner now, but... He didn’t fit my profile. He still had too many strong ties. He hadn’t been pulling away from society. Not like George.
“You see things that others don’t...” A slight pause. “When it comes to killers.”
“You’re saying I don’t understand you?”
His fingers stilled. “Do you think I’m a killer?”
Oh, yes, she would need to tread very carefully here. “Just because you fought and fired in the line of duty, it doesn’t mean—”
“You read my fucking confidential files.” Anger thickened his voice. It was the first time his anger had been directed at her. She didn’t like it.
“No.” Samantha fought to keep the emotion from her voice. That was one of her talents. When it came to locking down her feelings and giving the world a perfect mask to view, she was at the top of the class. “I didn’t.” But his words had just confirmed what she’d suspected when she’d begun to build a profile on him.
I profile my friends. I profile my lovers. I can’t turn it off. I wish that I could.
She cleared her throat. “We need to get back to the office.” They were just outside of Richmond, and the drive back to DC wouldn’t be an easy one, not at this time of the day. “Let’s just go, okay?”
He hesitated, and Samantha thought that he was going to push her to determine just how much she really knew about him. She tensed, but he gave a grim nod. He cranked the engine once more. Shifted to Park and— “Just because you have to fire,” Blake said, not looking at her, “in order to save yourself and your partner... That doesn’t make you a killer, either.”
No, but it did make her someone...who had killed.
CHAPTER TWO
SAMANTHA DARK WAS a mystery.
Blake Gamble watched her as she shut down her computer and carefully arranged all of the items on her desk. She liked to position things just so...the stapler at a ninety degree angle to her keyboard. The cup of pens just to the right of her mouse. And that little black picture frame...a picture of an older cop in his uniform...
Her fingers skimmed over the top of the photo, as if saying goodbye. She did that every night, right before she left the office.
Then she looked up and her gaze locked with his. There was no flash of surprise in her golden eyes. Absolutely beautiful eyes. Before Samantha, he’d never met a woman with eyes that particular shade. Her straight black hair fell around her face—a beautiful face, but one that she didn’t adorn with any makeup. Not that the woman needed any makeup. Her lips were full, naturally a light pink. Her lashes were long, thick. Her cheekbones high.
She wore no-nonsense clothes, usually dress pants and a tailored top. Sometimes a suit. He suspected she was trying to hide her curves, and the first day that he’d come across her—wearing slim-fit athletic pants and a tight top while she worked out at the FBI gym—he’d realized her curves were damn close to perfection.
She’d been sweating, her hair had been pulled back, her bare feet with their bright red toenail polish had seemed to dance over the sparring mat and then— Then she’d tossed her two-hundred-plus-pound opponent on his ass with barely a blink.
“You’re staring.”
He still hadn’t got used to her voice. Soft and husky sometimes, sure with authority others. But always—always—sexy.
He had such a serious problem when it came to Samantha Dark.
“It’s rude to stare,” she added as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you that?”
His shoulders rolled back. “My mom didn’t have the chance to teach me much. She died when I was a baby.”
She stilled. Sadness flashed on her face, coming and going in an instant. “I’m sorry.” Her voice said she truly was.
He pushed to his feet. “Me, too. From all accounts, she was a pretty incredible lady. I wish I’d met her.”
“Growing up without a parent... I know how hard it can be.”
He’d grown up with a military father who hadn’t exactly had a whole lot of room in his life for emotions—or for his young son. But Blake just shrugged. “I made out okay.”
“I guess I did, too.”
His eyes widened because that was the first personal tidbit she’d ever shared with him. But before he could speak, she was already hurrying toward the door. They shared that little office on the fourth floor of the DC FBI building, an office that looked out onto the busy street. Darkness had fallen, so right then, all he could see were city lights out of that glass, lights glimmering in the night.
Samantha opened the door—and the executive assistant director was standing there, his hand poised to knock.
Because Blake was watching Samantha so closely, he saw the sudden tension that swept through her body.