Her Rogue Russian(32)

 

Savannah swallowed a growl of frustration, and only barely resisted the urge to drop her head onto her keyboard and give up for the day. A glance at her desktop clock told her it was only a little past seven in the morning. She had been working overtime on this Sergey case, if only because the more hours she put into it, the more time she got to spend pretending to be a suspected murderer's girlfriend. What was wrong with her?

 

She was just about to haul herself out of her chair and put on another pot of coffee in the lounge when a solicitous 'ping!' from her computer called her back. Savannah alighted once more in her chair and clicked open the messenger window. She already knew who it was:

 

MADISON: Everything okay? I haven't heard from you in a few weeks!

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

SAVANNAH: I texted you yesterday!

 

MADISON: Nothing significant! So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on with you, Annie?

 

Leave it to Madison O'Conner to intuitively know that something was up. Savannah sat back in her chair, pulling her hands away from the keyboard to rub her temples.

 

SAVANNAH: I'm just

 

SAVANNAH: I'm a little in over my head here. With a case.

 

MADISON: A case. Uh-huh.

 

MADISON: This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain member of a certain family you warned me against, would it, Agent Hypocrite?

 

"Maddie," Savannah stressed aloud between her teeth. She had always been careful with the privacy settings on her work computer, but who was she kidding-this was the Federal Bureau of Investigation she worked for. If they wanted to keep tabs on her communications, they had likely already found a way.

 

SAVANNAH: Can't talk right now. We'll go for drinks soon, I promise.

 

MADISON: Fine. Have you heard of this new place called Paint and Pint? It's getting rave reviews online.

 

SAVANNAH: It's underrated. Trust me. I'll call you later.

 

Savannah clicked out of her messenger client, severing her connection with the only person on earth who stood a chance of understanding what she was going through. Not only was Madison expecting a child with Maxim's brother, Vlad-something Savannah had yet to reveal to Maxim-but Maddie was also the only person close to her that Savannah trusted implicitly. Generally, she refrained from relating the details of any of her cases to Maddie, but she had already checked all remaining professionalism at the door when she'd had sex with Maxim.

 

She was going to have to break it off with him, she knew. Maybe have herself transferred to another part of the task force. She had fought tooth and nail to go undercover, but she had never expected to get so tangled up with the dangerous man she had trusted to watch her back. It was time to end it.

 

She just wished it didn't feel so much like the decision threw a kill switch on her heart.

 

"I just ran into the director in the hallway."

 

Savannah raised her eyes, startled to find Tom had returned without her noticing. He was wearing a suit and sunglasses, leaning with one shoulder propped in the doorway to their shared office. "An anonymous source claiming to be an eyewitness called it in last night. Says they saw someone fitting your boyfriend's description entering the victim's apartment building."

 

Savannah took a moment to process what he was saying. "Really? And that's all they reported?" she asked him. "No argument, no gunshot, or … "

 

Or mention of a second suspect arriving on the scene?

 

"Apparently, they cut the call before we could get anything more out of them," Tom replied.  

 

Strange. There should have been more to it, and Savannah felt certain of the fact. It had also been dark outside the apartment building when she arrived, owing to the main street light being out. She could recall that eerie detail very vividly.

 

Whoever had called in and described Maxim as the suspect, she was certain, was lying. What's more, it was possible that the person the director had on the phone was the real killer.

 

"I'm going to bring Karev in this afternoon," Tom interrupted her thoughts. "On suspicion of murder. Two counts." He forked two of his fingers and presented them to her, wiggling them smugly, as if he was the older kid in grade school boasting about how high he could count. It was this kind of casual condescension that normally drove Savannah up a wall, but she was too busy.

 

"You want to bring him in for Sergey, too," she guessed. "The director thinks he has enough on him …  or at least, suspects he'll find more evidence."

 

"Don't always have to locate the proof, if you know what I mean." Tom's pale eyes glimmered. Savannah had a feeling he was trying to convey a message to her telepathically-a message she wasn't certain she wanted to receive. "We both know this guy's our only bead on closing this murder investigation down and focusing our attention elsewhere. We're the Blood Diamond Task Force, remember? You ask me, the sooner we nail every last one of the Karevs, the sooner we can get back to doing our jobs. What's a little planted evidence between friends, I ask you?"