Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) by K. Victoria Chase Page B

voice softened. “You just do what you have to do, and don’t worry about anything else. Not even Burrows, you hear me? You don’t play into his games.”
    Easier said than done. Maggie couldn’t help but worry about where Burrows was or what he would do next.
    “Does this Marshal Worth live up to his name?”
    “What?” Maggie breathed. Her heart pounded faster, against her will.
    “Stop pretending like you didn’t hear me. A US Marshal? They’re always gorgeous. So, what does he look like? Denzel? Or,” she paused, “Simon Baker?”
    Maggie groaned. “Simon Baker? Really Mom?” She rolled her eyes.
    “Don’t roll your eyes either. It’s disrespectful.”
    Maggie couldn’t help smiling. How did she know? “Mother, I’m working a case.”
    “Hmm, you didn’t say Denzel—”
    “Mom.”
    “Well…” She exaggerated.
    Maggie sent her gaze heavenward. “Mom, I don’t need to be thinking about that right now,” Maggie pleaded.
    “So, he’s white?”
    “Mother.” Maggie tried not to shout. “Does it really matter if he’s white?” she hissed into the phone. What was keeping Brandon? She needed a reason to get off the phone. She jumped up from her seat, intent on marching to command and control to find Brandon when she nearly collided into his chest. She raised her eyes, and gulped.
    “I don’t see why you have to keep it a secret. It’s not the 1950s. I’d still like to know who’s coming to dinner, though.” She laughed. “Maggie? Margaret? Are you still there? Is the man there with you? At least tell me if I got the right name—”
    “Call you back, Mom.”
    Click .
    “Who’s white?” His baritone voice hummed. Humor laced the question while his eyes twinkled.
    Maggie blinked. Oh Lord, please don’t let him guess what Mother and I were talking about . She grappled for a way to change the subject, and regain some sense of composure, but his chest was at her eye level — his pectorals strained the fabric each time he inhaled.
    Heat stole up her neck.
    Maggie looked down and noticed the papers in his hands. “Um, are these the names of the escapees from your office?” She tried to take them from his hands, but he resisted. Her head came up. His lips twitched as he fought a smile. He let the papers go.
    He knows . But had the good grace to let the matter die.
    “Yes. I made a quick copy, thinking you might want to see if you recognize any names.”
    “Great, I’ll look these over on our way out to the scene.” Maggie spun on her heels and hurried out. She refused to look behind her this time.
    The drive to the outskirts of Culpeper, where Burrows abandoned the vehicle, couldn’t have been more arduous. Maggie tried her best to read her documents but she ended up counting the number of times Brandon glanced at her. And it had been a lot. He asked whether she was okay, and she assured him, a little too cheerfully, everything was fine.
    Everything was not fine.
    The whole way over, Maggie mentally weighed the pros and cons of inviting him to the scene. She didn’t need him. He could be busy with other aspects of the manhunt instead of looking at a charbroiled car…a car not likely to have any clues to aid the investigation. Maggie ignored the obvious: Brandon had agreed to join her. The elation she felt earlier over his consent to come had since died, and now she wondered what had come over her.
    She wouldn’t admit some primal form of jealousy had arisen in her when Deckker moved a little too close to Brandon. It was wrong of her, she knew, but in an effort to boost her own ego, she gave Brandon an opportunity to choose her over Deckker, to come with her to the scene of a barbeque and leave Deckker at the hotel.
    He left the man-eater at the hotel.
    Now what?
    What could she do? Absolutely nothing. Maggie swallowed down the thick lump in her throat. Besides, he didn’t come along for the ride because of her, did he? He came for anything that could open up the investigation and