Was I a suspect? I stamped my feet again and glanced around, but no one was looking directly at me. The urge to escape rose up inside but leaving now would look suspicious. Best to stand with everyone else and act normal.

The agent exchanged a look with the tall Black officer. Definitely working undercover.

As tempting as it might be to slip behind the Fed and slide my blade into his back, that would be rash and foolish and would gain me nothing. I inhaled another deep breath through the wool and let the crowd absorb me as the pastor droned on and on about poor fucking Adele who’d suffered so terribly. She wouldn’t have suffered quite so much if she hadn’t called the fucking cops.

Where was Darby?

I resisted looking around at nearby vehicles. I bet the FBI agent knew where she was. I avoided looking at him, knowing a person could sense when someone was watching them.

Were they staying in the same place? Did she have another agent guarding her or was she vulnerable and alone? The idea excited me. I could follow him and wait for him to leave…

Jesus. This pastor was a whiny asshole. I should have killed him rather than Adele.

Maybe Darby was staying at the hotel with the lawyer who’d given this morning’s press conference? He’d been easy to track down. Elliot Byrne. His name was in the news and there were a limited number of places in the city where that kind of individual would stay.

How could Darby even afford that guy? I frowned. I didn’t know, but I’d like to. I bowed my head in prayer once more and barely stopped myself from groaning at the fake piety of the pastor.

I’d have to ask her. Because one way or another, I would get my hands on Darby O’Roarke.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eban headed over to the grad students who looked as if they were preparing to leave.

“Jacqui.” He nodded. He held out his gloved hand to shake at the same time pulling his creds out from where they hung on a cord around his neck.

Her eyes—one of the few visible features—widened, as did the eyes of the four young people standing with her. They were all huddled close together to combat the blustery snow that was starting to come down faster.

“I didn’t introduce myself properly yesterday. FBI Supervisory Special Agent Eban Winters.” He let his voice carry.

He’d asked Allan Robertson to watch out for anyone paying any attention to him.

“You’re one of the Feds who rescued her from PGR last year,” one young man stated.

“That’s right.” Eban stuck out his hand to introduce himself to each person in turn. Lenny Serkoak, Davis Farraday, Stef Riddell and Mohammed Black.

Jacqui pulled down her face warmer to reveal pinched lips. “Why didn’t you say something about working for the FBI yesterday?”

“Mainly because you weren’t very welcoming and I wasn’t there in an official capacity.” He smiled at her. For some reason he didn’t much like the woman but maybe that was because of how she’d treated Darby. Actually, that was exactly why he wasn’t a fan. He needed to get over his residual anger. “My priority was making sure Darby was safe from possible repercussions—”