where would you live?”
“Huh? Oh. Funny.” McGregor grimaced, then joined her on the sofa, taking her hands in his own. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“After fourteen months? Nope.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Move in with me, please. I can’t live without you.”
“Move in with you?” She licked her lips, disappointed. “That’s it?”
“For now. I figure eventually we’ll make it permanent—”
“Eventually we’ll make it permanent?” She pulled her hands free. “FYI, that’s the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She eyed him grimly. “All year long I thought you were waiting until the new office was set up. Then I thought you were waiting to see if Ray would come back to SPIN, which obviously isn’t going to happen. Now what? Are you some kind of freakish confirmed bachelor in disguise? Because if you are, you should have warned me.”
He gave her a pained smile. “Just the opposite. I’d love to marry you. But our work situation complicates things. If you and I get married…have children…”
“Oh, that.” She laughed in relief. “Let me make it easy for you. You and the kids would come first. Absolutely. But I also love spinning and I love working for you. And I actually think I can run some ops from home, so I can combine business and pleasure. Except when the kids are babies, of course, because I’ll be too busy kissing their toes to get anything done.”
McGregor grinned. “Sounds great. Unfortunately that’s not the complication I was referring to. I’m worried I’ll have to fire you someday, and I’m pretty sure the marriage manuals advise against that.”
“Fire me?” Kristie scowled. “For what? I’m your best spinner.”
“You’re great,” he agreed. “But you’re also a rogue. You’ve decimated the rules at least three times that I know of—once on my watch, two or three on Ray Ortega’s. I figure you and I should live together for a while. See if you do anything else crazy. If I have to fire you, then you can decide if you’ll still marry me. And if by some miracle you become a model employee, we can get married next summer. I even bought the ring—Oh, fine!” His blue eyes darkened as the phone on Kristie’s desk began to chime. “Is that your operative line? I thought we agreed you’d route it to the backups so we could have an uninterrupted dinner for once.”
“I told them not to bother me unless it was an emergency.”
“Perfect.” He punched the speaker-phone button, his voice turning into a growl. “This is Director McGregor. Identify yourself.”
“Hey, McGregor. It’s Justin Russo. So the rumors about you and S-3 are true, huh? You’re a lucky guy! Is she as pretty as she sounds?”
“Russo?” McGregor practically spat the name of Kristie’s favorite operative. “Not that it’s any of your business, but S-3 and I were having an employer-employee discussion. And I wasn’t aware we had any ops going with you at the moment.”
“We don’t,” Kristie interrupted. “But we recommended him for the Angel of Mercy investigation. Because of the possible Night Arrow connection. Remember?” Raising her voice, she asked with concern, “Justin? Is everything okay?”
“Sorry, S-3. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the boss. I know SPIN isn’t officially involved with this case, but I was hoping to get some quick advice anyway.”
“Don’t worry. But hold on, okay?” She pressed the mute button, then prodded McGregor hopefully. “You say you already bought the ring? Do you have it with you?”
“Let’s get rid of this guy first.” McGregor switched the phone off mute. “Your timing stinks, Russo. Can’t you call S-3 tomorrow at the office? It’s bad enough when you guys hound her in the middle of the night for SPIN business. But when we’re not even under contract for the operation—”
“You’re right,” Justin admitted. “But I didn’t know who else to trust. And Essie—I mean, S-3—hasn’t ever steered me wrong.”
Kristie sent McGregor a pleading look, and when he frowned but nodded, she said quickly, “What do you need, Justin?”
“The name of a good lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” McGregor was growling again. “What’s going on out there?”
“I’m not actually ‘out there.’ I’m in here—a jail cell, to be specific.” Dropping the bantering tone, the FBI agent added, “They think I killed a suspect. But I didn’t do it. I swear.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Kristie replied, shooting McGregor a warning glare. “How awful, Justin. But don’t worry. We’ll help you. Right, Will?”
“Yeah, Russo. Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of contacts at the Justice Department. I’ll make sure they fix you up with the best.”
“We’ll do it right away,” Kristie added. “I can’t believe they’re actually holding you.”
“The Bureau will have him out in no time,” McGregor promised, his voice ringing with confidence. “Just sit tight, Russo. You may be a pain in the ass, but you’re also a federal agent. There’s no way anyone at the FBI—or here—will let you down.”
“Thanks, McGregor. And Essie? Just for the record, I didn’t kill anyone—”
“I know you didn’t,” she murmured, although in the back of her mind warning bells were beginning to clang.
This was sounding a little too familiar. The last time a close friend—former SPIN director Ray Ortega—had assured her he was innocent, she had believed him without question, and that misplaced trust had almost gotten her killed.
She licked her lips. “You said it was a suspect? You don’t mean the Masterson heiress, do you? I read about that shooting.”
“Yeah, and believe me, when I get my hands on the guy who did it, I’ll make him pay.” Justin’s tone grew brisk. “I’ve gotta go. McGregor? Give Essie a kiss for me.”
As the line went dead, McGregor muttered, “That guy is nothing but trouble.”
“Like me?”
He laughed warily and reached for her. “At least you have some redeeming qualities.”
She backed away. “You’re supposed to be calling your friends at the FBI, remember? To make sure they get a great lawyer for Justin.” Then she jutted her chin forward defensively. “He and I may use unorthodox tactics at times, but we each have excellent success rates.”
McGregor snorted. “Russo’s unorthodox tactics usually involve fooling around with some female when he’s supposed to be working on a case. Big surprise that there’s a woman behind this murder charge, too.”
“At least he knows how to be romantic. Maybe you should ask for a few pointers.”
McGregor winced. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but if I ever
