“Explain.”
“I want to know why Roger Patrone was murdered. And I want to stop the human trafficking from Asia.”
He nodded. “We all want that.”
“But I have leads to track down. If I could hook up with people from the Wynter compound and question them, I might get answers. Or I could break in and download the information on their computers. I might find evidence that would be useful to the FBI.”
“Seriously?” He was skeptical. “You want to keep digging up dirt, poking the dragon?”
She shot back. “Well, that’s what an investigative reporter does.”
“This isn’t a joke, Emily. You saw what happens to people who cross Frankie Wynter.”
“They get shot and dumped.”
Wynter’s men could toss her body into a mountain cave, and she wouldn’t be found for years. When she voiced her plan out loud, it sounded ridiculous. How could she expect to succeed in her investigation when the FBI had failed?
“If you want to take that kind of risk,” he said, “that’s your choice. But don’t put Hazel in danger.”
He was right. She shouldn’t have come here, and she definitely shouldn’t have talked to him. Trust me? Fat chance.
Their connection had already begun to unravel, which was probably for the best. He irritated her more than a mohair sweater on a sunny day. Her unwarranted attraction to him was a huge distraction from her work. She should tell him to go. She didn’t need a bodyguard.
But Sean was strong and quick, well trained in assault and protection. He knew things about investigating and undercover work that she could only guess about. Her gut instincts told her she really did need him.
“Come with me,” she said. “Back to San Francisco.”
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