Priceless (A Rylee Adamson Novel, Book 1)

CHAPTER TWO

2

Besides the cool, constantly blowing wind that was North Dakota waiting for me to step outside, there were also two FBI agents. My usual stalker, O’Shea, and what appeared to be another new partner. Imagine that. Considering O’Shea’s lack of people skills, it was no surprise. He went through partners like a woman changes her clothes.

“Adamson.” O’Shea barked at me.

I flinched at the use of my surname, a name I didn’t use anymore. Not since I’d started searching for kids nearly ten years ago.

His partner, a shorter version of O’Shea, I barely noticed. No angry vibes coming off that one. With O’Shea as his partner, I suspected he was taking a regular dose of Adavan just to get through the day. I would be, if I were in his shoes.

“What?” My distant teenage persona came to the surface with the snap back. He really brought out the best in me. He didn’t look like your typical Irishman, with his dark eyes and hair. But his temper fit. Standing at least 6’3, he was one of very few men able to intimidate me. And it wasn’t just his height, or the size of his muscled body, it was the history between us. For ten years he’d been trying to pin murder charges on me, and for ten years I’d stayed free. It rubbed him the wrong way for some reason.

Milly, my closest friend and confidant, long ago suggested I try flirting with him, to freak him out and throw him off his game. Lately I’d been considering it. I’d tried just about everything else and I really just wanted him off my case. Milly insisted it would work, and since she was the sex goddess in our duo, I could probably take her word for it. Problem was I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

“I know what you’re doing. Stay the hell out of FBI business or I’ll have you up on charges so fast even your ditzy little head will spin,” O’Shea said, using his height to loom over me, like a bully on a playground trying to intimidate the little kids. Wrong chick to pull that move on, you’d think he would have learned that by now.

“Tell me something,” I said, acting totally unimpressed, hiding my nerves. “If this is just a regular case, just a kid gone missing, why is the illustrious FBI on it?” I strolled to my Jeep, the two men following a few feet behind me. “Could it be that unlike most people whose children go missing, this family has money and can buy the really good help?” I looked over my shoulder to see their reactions to my words.

Both agents flushed at the implication. Mini-Me stepped into the ring next, ready for his shot at me. “The FBI can’t be bought, Ms. Adamson.”

“Really?” I smiled at him sweetly, turning to face the men, my hand on the Jeep’s handle. “That’s not what I heard. In fact, I heard when you’ve got lots of money or fame, that’s when the FBI steps in.” I paused, took my hand off the door and shook my head. “Glory hounds seeking the spoils of others’ sorrow.” So much for flirting.

O’Shea stepped close and held my door closed, once more looming over me. I didn’t often feel small, but this close to him I felt like a child. The same child he’d met nearly ten years ago. “Adamson, one of these days I’m going to find out how you did it, how you made your little sister disappear. And when I do, all this vigilante shit of yours will stop because I’ll make sure you’re in jail for a very, very long time. You’re not fooling me. I know who’s to blame for your sister’s death. We may not have a body, but one day soon, you’re going to slip up.”

My jaw tightened and tears threatened to show themselves. I would not let him see me cry, damn it. After all these years, he was the only one who could bring me this close to tears. “And when I do, you’ll be there, right? You’ll be there to slip the noose over my neck and watch me swing?”