“Sorry, Welch—what did you say?”
“The FBI. There’s a match. The partial print in the EC135.”
“It’s Hyde?”
“Yes, sir. The FBI uncovered his convictions as a minor in Detroit.”
Detroit again.
“They match,” he says, “though those documents are supposed to be sealed, which is why it’s taken a few days.”
“What does that mean?”
“They may be inadmissible.”
“Shit, really? Well, there’s also the footage we have of Hyde outside Escala that Prescott found earlier this week. It’s obvious he was checking the place out. And, of course, the CCTV from GEH’s server room.”
“The police have been wanting to question him about the incident at GEH, but they hadn’t been able to locate him.”
“They have him now.”
“Indeed,” Welch growls. “And the two investigations are going to compare Hyde’s prints for a match.”
“About time. Did you get anything out of his former assistants?”
“No. They’re reluctant to talk. They all say he was an excellent boss.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Agreed, given the hushed-up harassment claims,” Welch mutters. “We’ve only spoken to four. I’ll keep pushing.”
“Okay.”
“What do you want to do about the heightened security around your family?”
“Let’s keep it for now and see where this goes with Hyde. We have no idea if he’s working alone or with someone.”
“Okay. I’ll report back when I’ve heard from my contact.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I check my e-mails. There’s one from Sam letting me know that he’s been inundated with press inquiries about last night. I respond, telling him to send all inquiries to the King County PD press office.
Taylor enters. “Good morning, sir.”
“Did you get some sleep?”
He blows out a breath. “A few hours. Enough.”
“Good. We have a great deal to cover.”
He pulls up a chair and we run through my to-do list.
“…and, finally, get a carpenter to fix the door.”
“Will do. Briefing at ten with the entire team. I’ll let them know,” Taylor says.
“Please.”
“Sawyer and Ryan are in their racks. I’m assuming they’re still asleep. Prescott is sifting through the CCTV from last night to find out how Hyde got into the building.”
“Good.”
“Sir,” he says, in a way that gets my immediate attention.
“Yes?”
“I’m grateful we came home last night. Maybe you have a sixth sense or something.”
I’m taken aback. “Taylor, I was just mad at my wife.”
His sudden smile is wry and world weary. “Happens to us all, sir.”
I nod, but his words are not reassuring; he’s divorced.
Don’t go there, Grey.
“Thank God Ana and Gail are safe,” I add, as I get up. I’m hungry for my breakfast.
“Yes, sir.” He follows me out of the study.
“I’ve made you an omelet,” Gail says to me, and she gives us both a huge smile.
Maybe Taylor and Gail will tie the knot.
Who knows?
Ignoring them, I take a seat at the kitchen counter, and once Taylor has left the room I ask Gail if Ana ate. “She did, Mr. Grey. An omelet, too.”
“Good.”
As if I’ve conjured her by mentioning her name, Ana appears in the doorway wearing her jacket.
“You’re going?” I ask in disbelief.
“To work? Yes, of course.” She moves closer. “Christian, we’ve hardly been back a week. I have to go to work.”
“But—” I rake my hand through my hair, feeling anxious.
What about yesterday? Hyde! The kidnapping!
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Gail leave the kitchen. “I know we have a great deal to talk about,” Ana continues. “Perhaps if you’ve calmed down, we can do it this evening.”
“Calmed down?” I whisper and I’m immediately incandescent again. This woman is pressing every single button I have this morning.
She flushes, embarrassed. “You know what I mean.”
“No, Anastasia, I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t want to fight. I was coming to ask you if I could take my car.”
“No. You can’t,” I snap.
“Okay,” she says, quietly.
And just like that all the wind is out of my sails, and I’m no longer mad, just tired. I was expecting a battle. “Prescott will accompany you.” My tone is softer.
“Okay,” she says, and she steps toward me again.
Ana. What are you doing? She leans up and kisses me, sweetly, at the corner of my mouth. As her lips press against my skin, I close my eyes, savoring her touch. I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve her.
“Don’t hate me,” she whispers.
I grab her hand. “I don’t hate you.” Ana, I could never hate you.
“You haven’t kissed me,” she whispers.
“I know.” But I want to.
Damn, Grey. Carpe diem.
Standing abruptly, I grasp her face between my hands and raise her mouth to mine. Her lips part in surprise and I pounce, pushing my tongue into her mouth, tasting and testing her.
She tastes of heaven, and better times and minty toothpaste.
Ana. I love you.
You. Just. Drive. Me. Crazy.
I release her before she can properly respond. I know she’ll never get to work if I don’t back away. I’m breathing harder. “Taylor will take you and Prescott to SIP.” I fight to recover my composure and dampen my desire.