TheFugitivesSexyBrother by Annabeth Leong Page A

closed her eyes, as if she could hide the
betrayal from herself by refusing to see it. “Guy assigned Emily another set of
jobs. Her regular ones. She’s probably already gotten going on them. She could
start making drops here as early as today.” She hesitated, then rushed forward.
Might as well go all the way with it. “I can send you a text when she calls to
say she’s on her way. If you stay close, you’ll be able to come down and meet
her while she’s doing paperwork with Guy.”
    “You see, Neva, that’s no big deal, right? I’d have run into
her here pretty soon anyway.” He kissed the inside of her thigh gently, but
this time she twitched away from his touch. “I’m going to get cleaned up a
little. I look forward to your text—and to seeing you tonight.”
    “Yeah,” Neva whispered. She couldn’t meet his eyes or get
her voice up to normal volume. Matthew didn’t seem to notice, whistling
jauntily on his way out the door.

Chapter Nine
     
    Emily’s fingers drummed a celebratory pattern over her
pockets as she walked out of Guy’s Bail Bonds and back to her sedan. Turning in
the morning’s quarry had only earned her a couple of hundred dollars, but she
always felt better when she had a little cash in her wallet.
    In the sedan, Javier dozed. He’d been gracious about sitting
with the quarry in the converted backseat, which she’d had reinforced and
altered to keep fugitives contained. He’d even let her put the handcuffs back
on with a minimum of flirtatious protest. He must have been tired.
    She leaned forward, key in hand, to open the back door and
let him out. A firm grip on her shoulder stopped her. Emily stiffened, martial
arts instincts at the ready. A familiar scent of men’s soap prevented her from
lashing out before speaking. “Matthew? Get your hands off me. Now.”
    “Emily, we need to talk.”
    She whirled, shaking off his touch, eyes flashing. He was
wearing his best leather jacket and the cocky grin to match. “Do you need a
memo in the form of a restraining order? I don’t want to talk anymore. We’re
finished. Completely.”
    He pursed his lips, a gesture she recognized as Matthew
deciding whether to argue with her. They’d already had too many conversations
about her choice to end things between them—a decision that wasn’t up for
discussion. She shook her head and moved toward the driver’s door. Javier could
wait to get out of the backseat until she’d escaped her ex.
    Matthew caught her wrist with one firm hand. His wide,
strong palm made her own hand look childlike in comparison.
    A tendril of fear curled around the pit of her stomach.
Emily practiced her fighting skills hard and prided herself on realistic
assessments of her opponents. Matthew practiced just as hard as she did, and he
had the muscle mass of a big man on his side. She didn’t want this to come to a
physical confrontation. She settled for glaring at him.
    “We should talk about the Bonavita case,” Matthew said, with
the terrifying patience of a person who didn’t understand or care about a word
Emily had to say.
    “Should we?” She tugged at his grip. He didn’t budge.
    “We could be useful to each other.”
    “You mean I could be useful to you .”
    Matthew donned his most charming smile, which would have
made her panties melt just a few months ago. Emily remained remarkably
unaffected. Continued exposure to Javier’s considerable charisma must have
inoculated her against Matthew’s efforts. She pictured Matthew and Javier in a
charm contest and grinned.
    Matthew must have taken her expression as a concession,
because he lowered his tone smoothly to what Emily thought of as his “gentle
voice”—husky and masculine but with just enough vibrato to be seen as sensitive.
In her experience, the change was calculated. “Emily. I miss working with you.”
    He used his control over her wrist to pull her closer, his
lips closing for a kiss. A wave of disgust rose in Emily’s chest,