Jarred Sanchez frowned. The woman that he had been sent after was staring him straight in the eye as she spoke. There was no wavering, no telltale twitches, and no movement of trying to look away when she was talking.
He stepped back, pulling the gun away from her temple and motioning for her to stay where she was. Stepping backwards, he stopped when he felt the edge of her desk press against the back of his thighs.
“Where are the papers you took?” he demanded, scanning the top of the desk.
“Upstairs in my apartment,” she replied. “You work for Knockletter.”
A small smile curved his lips. There was a slightly defiant tilt of her head. Curious, he ran his eyes over the front of her. She wasn’t bad to look at. The dark hair offset her pale, creamy complexion. Her eyes were a rich dark br
