Striding down the carpeted hallway to Suite 1455, Erin was suddenly aware that the man was right behind, his steps quiet but determined.
“Excuse me?” she said, whipping around to confront him, senses on alert, placing her hand on the grip of her 9-mm Glock in her handbag. “Are you following me?”
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re following me,” he said.
“That’s ridiculous. I’m in front of you. How could I possibly know which office you’re headed to?”
“Touché,” he said with an amused smile. “You must be a detective.”
“And you probably read too many crime novels,” she retorted, surprised at the sassy response coming out of her mouth. “Are you at the San Francisco FBI field office for research for a term paper?”
He gave her an amused smile, but there was a hint of danger behind his eyes while he assessed her. “Something like that.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have pressed that 13th incognito floor,” Erin suggested. “You’ll probably have little luck since visitors need an appointment to see any of the agents who occupy these offices.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. Thanks for the tip.”
Why did it seem like this too handsome dude was laughing at her?
His footsteps continued to trail her instead of turning down the intersecting hallway to the other wing of offices.
Erin tried not to glare before she spun around on her heel, purposely ignoring him.
When she reached FBI Supervisor Howell’s office, Erin pushed open the door and greeted the office manager. “Agent Steele here to see Supervisor Howell. I have an appointment.”
“Yes, he’s expecting you,” Laura Tidwell, the office manager said, punching a button on the intercom while she pressed a finger against the rim of her black-framed glasses. “Agent Steele has arrived, sir.”
A male voice that sounded like a truck filled with gravel said, “Send Steele in.”
Erin tried not to let her sweaty palms show as she crossed the room. A door closed behind her and she craned her neck to glance over her shoulder.
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