Free Blood of Eden by Tami Dane Page B

the job because I felt it would be good experience. I knew Peyton was having a hard time getting applicants. I knew every member of the team would be valued. And so, I saw it as a shortcut to getting out from behind a desk and into the field. I requested a transfer.”
    â€œYou were right about that,” I said, chuckling. “I haven’t spent any quality time in my cubicle, and I’m an intern.”
    â€œNo matter what, if we do our jobs well, we’ll both benefit.” He glanced over his shoulder and eased the car into the right lane. Our exit was up ahead. “If the unit is eventually disbanded, I’ll leave with a hell of a lot more in-field experience than I would have if I hadn’t transferred. So will you. Assuming you apply for a full-time position after graduating.”
    â€œSounds like a good career move on your part.”
    â€œWould’ve been nice, though, if Peyton had been able to attract at least one more senior agent. Fischer’s been around a while. The rest of us are relatively new. Don’t have the experience to do the job.”
    â€œAll you can do is your best.”
    â€œYeah. But if I’d had some experience under my belt, maybe I wouldn’t have fucked up with Trey Chapman.”
    â€œYou didn’t ‘fuck up.’ How were you supposed to know they might have broken up?” When JT didn’t respond, I asked, “What’s next?”
    â€œWe dig up all we can on Chapman.”
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    The “Clock of Doom” read twenty hours, twenty-eight minutes, and thirty-six seconds when I strolled into the unit a little while later. I had a white paper bag full of greasy burgers and fries in one hand, a half-empty cola in the other. JT had left, saying he had a personal matter to take care of. He asked if I’d do some digging on Chapman.
    Feeling slightly guilty for sitting in an office, munching fries while somebody out there, somewhere, was living the final twenty hours of her life, I headed to my desk and flipped on my Netbook as I fought to consume the messy burger without slopping ketchup and mayo on the keyboard.
    I wasn’t “Miss Hacker-chick,” like Brittany Hough. Nor did I have open access to all the systems she did, so I accepted the fact that I would need to ask for her help. It was painful, but necessary.
    I put on my big-girl panties and prepared to talk to her.
    After making sure I wasn’t wearing condiments on my face, I headed into her office to ask her to do some digging for skeletons in Chapman’s closet. That task done, I headed back to my desk.
    A certain someone, who happened to have stolen my internship, came strolling into the unit just as I sat. Gabe gave me a casual wave as he sauntered by. “Hey, Skye. What’s up?”
    I spun my chair around to watch him go to the cubicle behind me and flop into the chair like he owned it. Adding insult to injury, he kicked his feet up on the desktop and grinned.
    I knew that grin.
    My gut twisted. “What are you doing here?”
    He picked at his fingernails. “Kicking back and chillin’ for a few.”
    Nothing like stating the obvious.
    I gave him a mean scowl. “Yeah, but shouldn’t you be doing that down in the BAU?”
    â€œNo. Why would I do that?” He looked confused. Perplexed. Mystified. It was a convincing performance. The boy—I emphasize boy —was one hell of an actor. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen his thespian skills at work.
    It had been my senior year in high school, when he’d pretended to like me so I’d help him with physics. I’d just turned fifteen. He was two years older. And much more experienced. He’d charmed me through hours of tutoring every afternoon and—eventually—out of my clothes.
    Thanks to all my hard work, he pulled what would’ve been a B- up to an A, which led to him being accepted into the National Honor