“I know that,” I grumbled. The longer his eyes remained on me, the more flustered I became. It was like he could peel back every layer of the walls I kept up and slowly pick them apart. I felt disarmed.

“I could get a warrant for your laptop. You’d be hindering an investigation,” he pointed out.

Fuck.

I hadn’t thought that far when I opened my mouth. I needed a new angle, a way to convince him he needed me.

“There’s more to track down, documents I can pull easily through our systems. Documents you wouldn’t have to go through entire processes for if you allow me to help,” I tried, standing from my chair.

I crossed my arms, my white blouse clinging to me, making me feel warmer than I was. My eyes wandered to the clock, realizing there was only an hour left in my shift.

“I can take you to my apartment in an hour,” I offered. “I’ll show you everything I’ve gathered, and I promise to give you access to the resources I have if you let me continue to help.”

It was a deal I hoped he couldn’t refuse. He was a single agent working on a cold case. I didn’t know much of the bureaucratic workings of the FBI, but I knew enough to know this was not their priority.

Genuis, if I did say so myself. 

I tried to keep the satisfied grin from my face, my foot tapping, waiting for Beck’s answer.

His face remained firm, and I saw his muscles in his arms tense up. The tattoos running down his right arm held my attention, and I followed the vines that climbed up his forearm to his bicep.

“That’s my offer, or come back with a warrant,” I said, turning my chin up.

He continued to stare at me, and I worried he may just walk. His eyes gave nothing away. I could see his mind racing but couldn’t piece together a hint at what he was thinking.

I heard footsteps approaching the door and glanced toward it. Francis’s voice carried into the room, and I knew I had little time to get him out of there before more questions arose.

“I will meet you at the café across the street after your shift,” he said, nodding to me as he walked toward the door, hands slipping into his pockets.

My heart pounded.

Had that seriously worked? Damn, I was a better negotiator than I thought. 

Years growing up with an older brother, and I was glad I at least had something to show for it. I never would have survived as the pesky little sister if I wasn’t able to bargain my way into holding his favor.