Free Traitor, The by Jo Robertson

Isabella Torres. Whatever that said about him, he intended to
use this knowledge to his advantage.

 
     
    Chapter
Eleven
     
    "So, Ms. Torres." Agent Hashemi leaned back in his
chair and let the words hang as she moved back to stand behind the
straight-backed guest chair. She glanced around the office, noting the relative
plush of his office compared with her own meager, cramped one.
    Clearly Hashemi expected her to fill in the unspoken blanks.
She shifted her position, gripped the back of the chair, and put on her best
prosecuting attorney's look. "Agent Hashemi," she countered.
    Except for his initial reaction, the federal agent was a
cool one. He now sat in front of her as relaxed and unruffled as if they'd
never met, as if nothing had ever happened between them. She'd give him points
for his professionalism. The opposite of her, where every cell in her body
worked double time to control her emotions.
    The sense of betrayal that sucker punched her the moment
Mrs. Roberts had announced her, hit again like a mortal blow. Trying not to
betray her agitation, she gripped the chair more tightly to keep him from
noticing her trembling hands. And to keep him from looking down at her.
    Over the years, when interrogating suspects, she'd learned
to stand over them to indicate her superiority. Right now she needed to feel
she had more power than Agent Hashemi, even if it were an illusion. She'd get
down to brass tacks, but she'd make him work for every scrap of information.
    Rafe cracked first. She had hoped he would. She was very,
very good at the power play game. However, his voice was all reason and
rationale when he spoke. "Should we continue now that the awkward part is
out of the way?"
    Rafe. She had to stop thinking of him as Ashraf, call me
Rafe. The shortened name reminded her of how she'd groaned his name aloud. She
shook her head abruptly and prayed the color in her cheeks didn't betray her
thoughts. "That's probably a good idea."
    She reached for the briefcase she'd left by the chair,
propped it open on the edge of his desk, and extracted a thin file. She pushed
it across the desk to Agent Hashemi. Watched him frown and heft it in his hand,
noting the weight of it. He stood and sat on the edge of his desk, their eyes
nearly on the same level. He looked first at the folder then at her and back
again to the file. "The Diego Vargas report?"
    She nodded.
    After a long moment, he opened the manila folder and quickly
perused the contents. It didn't take long. "What's this?" he grated
out, slapping the file down on his desk.
    Bella forced sarcasm into her voice. "Isn't it obvious?"
    His face burned under the burnished color of his skin and he
drummed his fingers on the desktop. "Where's the rest?"
    "It's all there," she answered pointing to the
meager file, "all the official stuff. Any other material on Vargas is work
product. My personal work product." She watched the truth dawn on
him. She didn't really need to add the rest, but she did anyway. "I'm not
required to turn over work product to anyone." She paused and smiled
sweetly. "Not even to the federal government."
    Hashemi eyed her with irritation and reached for his phone. "We're
not on opposite sides concerning Vargas, you know."
    She raised her eyebrows, and he shook his head as if dealing
with a recalcitrant child.
    "You know it'll take less than a minute to get what I
need," he threatened, his voice mild but his jaw clenched.
    "Maybe, maybe not," Bella replied. "Charles
Barrington may eventually coerce me into giving you the rest, but do you really
want your investigation to stall that long?"
    Rafe didn't like the smug look on her face. If she wanted to
play hardball, she would learn he'd invented the game. "What makes you
think your information's that important. You sound pretty sure of yourself."
    "I am. I have to be." She shrugged slender
shoulders. "A woman in a man's world and all that."  
    He let his right hand relax on the phone and tapped the
skimpy file with