Page 69 of When He Plays

“Getting out of the bed.” Obviously. “Getting out of here. I’m the one who is tracking him.”

His grip tightened. “Yes, you are, but I’m the one who is supposed to kill him.”

Now she was the one to laugh. A shocked, you-can’t-be-serious laugh. “I get that plenty of people think the CIA goes rogue in this world, but we’re not killers. This isn’t some action movie where we go off the rails. My job is to apprehend the perpetrator. To lock him away. I will get justice for his victims. I will follow the law.”

His head lowered toward her. “Sweetheart, you missed an important point.”

She had not. She’d covered all the points.

“I am not the CIA. Jezebel fully understands that important point. She wants this bastard dead. She knows that, under the right circumstances—hell, under the wrong ones—I’ll do exactly what she wants. I will put him in the ground with no hesitation.”

Frustrated, her head jerked toward Jezebel once more. “Tell Logan that he’s wrong. This is about catching the guy. Not killing him.”

But…

Jezebel didn’t speak. She made no denial.

“Jez?” Charlotte’s chill bumps seemed to get worse. “We aren’t killers. We stop killers.”

“It’s my final mission,” Jezebel told her softly. “And I want to make sure it is final.”

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath.

“Sometimes, in order to achieve a goal…” No emotion entered Jezebel’s voice. “You have to think outside the box.”

Silence.

Then…

“Hi, there,” Logan murmured.

Her head slowly turned back toward him.

“I’m outside the box.”

He grabbed his tux coat and followed Jezebel into the hospital corridor. Charlotte had asked for privacy, and being the gentleman that he clearly was, Logan had stepped out.

Jezebel was intent on leaving, but before she vanished, he intended to have a fast and furious one-on-one chat with her. Furious being the key word.

“How the hell did you know?” Logan demanded. Because this part was driving him crazy. He shouldered into the tux coat.

Jezebel raised her eyebrows at him. “I believe our discussion has concluded. I have additional business to handle.”

He moved into her path. The discussion had not concluded, not yet. “How did you know it would become personal for me?”

Her dark eyes gleamed.

“I could have just not given a shit,” he muttered. “Told you that the prick could take Charlotte. That she could fend for herself. Or that her partner Jamar could just watch her back. I could have stayed the hell out of things.” His hands were loose at his sides, but he had to work extra hard to unclench his jaw. “How did you know how far I would be willing to go?”

“Really? You think I didn’t do my research on you?” Her hand raised, and she motioned toward the scar on his cheek. “You didn’t have to get that, you know. But you let yourself be cut. You took the pain because you were working on a plan to save Simone from the bastard who wanted to use her.”

“I love Simone. She’s family.” Obviously, he’d do anything for her. But this case wasn’t about Simone. It was about Charlotte, and this was the part he didn’t understand. “How did you know⁠—”

“That you would love Charlotte?”

He immediately looked toward Charlotte’s hospital room door. Still closed. Thankfully. “Lower your voice!”

“It was low. It was a whisper.”