Page 10 of Made of Steele
She entered the room and came to a sudden stop. Gutierrez wasn’t alone. A woman with jet black hair and a sharp expression sat in a chair by the desk. But Teagan’s gaze went to and lingered on the man causally sitting on the corner of the desk.
Dylan. The creep. The man who tied her up.
She went straight for him.
He stood. She shoved him against the wall as she would a suspect, her chest heaving with anger. His corded muscles remained firm under her fingers. She was no match for him. He could take her out if he chose to. Subdue her again like he’d done last night, even though that had been a surprise attack.
He flashed a look of amazement before a smile slowly slid across his mouth.
Fine. Smile. Make me madder.
She took a breath. Couldn’t gain much air. Tried again. Failed. Went on anyway. Poked him in those pecks made of steel. “You best be here to apologize for last night. If not, I’m headed back out that door.”
“Why don’t you sit down.” Gutierrez’s calming voice came from behind. His words normally would be a suggestion, but not the way they were issued.
She didn’t have to comply, but she did have to gain control of her emotions—and fast. Her breathing had become so shallow she could hyperventilate and pass out. Sitting would be good. Sitting and gaining control of her rash behavior. Acting like a professional.
She dropped into the chair next to the woman dressed in a plain gray pantsuit that screamed Fed. She’d crossed her legs, her hands pressed on her bony knee as a black pump dangled from her foot.
Gutierrez gestured at the woman. “Meet Gala Harris, Special Agent in charge of ICE’s Portland field office.”
Pegged her.Teagan held out her hand, hating that it was still trembling with anger. “Teagan Steele. Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands, a contest of strength ensued. Teagan let go. No point in getting into a contest with this woman. If Clay’s description of Harris was accurate, the older lady liked to win no matter the cost.
Teagan lifted her shoulders and looked at Dylan. “And you are?”
He remained against the wall, but those very broad shoulders relaxed. How could he be so calm when she’d slammed him against the wall? Infuriating. Maybe he had an abrasive personality and was used to people going after him.
He held out his hand. “Agent Drew Collier, working undercover with the Conti brothers.”
Her mouth flapped open. She snapped it closed, her mind racing with the news. “You’re an ICE agent?”
He nodded, and when she didn’t reach out to shake his hand, he rested it on his trim waist. No way she would touch him again. Not with the way she was reacting to him. Not the anger, but her interest in him.
“Sorry about last night,” he said casually as if they’d simply bumped into each other. “I couldn’t have you walk in on the brothers and risk a year of my undercover work going up in smoke. And I had no idea what they might do to you either. I couldn’t risk your life that way.”
He sounded sincere on both points, but then he lied for his job, living as someone else in a world where lie upon lie kept him alive. Odds were good that he was playing a part now too.
So how did she react? What did she do? Forgive him? No. Not yet. Not that easy. “I’ve never suspected the brothers would be dangerous but sounds like you think they are.”
“I have no evidence to suggest that. Only things I’ve heard them say. I do know they’re not going to get caught and go to prison.” He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, and his tanned, muscular forearms looked like bronzed iron.
She forced her focus to his face, his wide jaw dark and covered with thick stubble. But it was his startling blue eyes that caught and held her attention.
He locked on and didn’t so much as blink one of his long lashes. “I assume you or your guard caught on to the fact that the Contis are into something illegal.”
She was staring like an idiot at the man’s eyes, assessing his muscles, all in front of her old boss and Collier’s boss. Talk about unprofessional. Not something she’d ever done on the job when she’d been a deputy or detective.
She took a breath and broke the hold. “Stolen antiquities, right?”
“That’s right.” His crisp nod was all business. “And we can’t have you telling anyone about it.”
“Too late,” she fired back. “My sisters came to the warehouse right after you left. I alerted them to my location before I entered the building and told them if they didn’t hear back from me in thirty minutes from my arrival, they were to respond. When I didn’t answer their texts or calls, they came to my rescue. Of course I told them what happened and what I had heard. And Patrick—that’s our guard—has his suspicions too.”
“Then we’ll have to allay his suspicions so this doesn’t get around.” Collier planted his feet. “Maybe reassign him in case he gets nosey.”
“Weallay?” she asked.
