stand up to me,” Scott said. “So why not for a job you obviously loved?” Trying another tactic, he asked, “I mean, what made you pick negotiation in the first place?”
He thought she was going to say it was none of his business—or tell him where he could shove it—but instead she asked, “What made you pick the FBI? Huh?” She stepped closer, fury on her face, and he knew he’d crossed a line even before she added, “You want to talk about your motivation? You want to talk about what happened to Maggie?”
Scott got out of bed so fast that Chelsie backed up. It had been ten years since his sister’s assault, the event that had driven him into the Bureau. And Chelsie wasn’t the first person, or even the first FBI agent, to ask about it. But her throwing that at him pissed him off more than pretty much any other response she could have given.
Maybe that was the point, he thought as he got in her face and watched her eyes widen. No matter how she might want to deny it, she knew how to get inside people’s minds. She was getting in his right now, trying to use his emotional weak spot to drive him away.
“Fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You want to push me away, Chelsie? Congratulations.”
He pointed at the door. “Get out.”
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