first time sheâd received such a reaction from a male agent. Not that that made it any easier to tolerate now. She arched her brows in surprise and resentment at his tone, but before she could speak, he continued, this time sounding mildly disgusted.
âYou think Iâm just the errand boy they sent to pick you up, donât you?â he asked curtly.
âWell, arenât you?â she asked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. âHow old are you, Logan?â
âTwenty-five,â she told him crisply. Actually, she was mere months from her twenty-sixth birthday. Then, just as abruptly as he had, she asked, âHow old are you, Jones?â
He clearly hadnât expected the rapid-fire retort. Nevertheless, he told her readily enough, âThirty-two. I have ten years in at the Bureau. Seniority, one might say.â And before she had a chance to remind him that seniority was earned by more than just years, he continued coolly, âLook, Logan, I know all about you, all right? Hell, itâs been hammered home to every agent here in Portland how fast and furious the homegrown Girl Wonder rose through the ranks at Quantico. But I, for one, suspect a lot of that was due to Daddy Loganâs influence, both in Portland and elsewhere. Must be nice having an old man worth millions pulling strings for you. Me, I wouldnât know. I earned my position the old-fashioned wayâby working hard and fighting tooth and nail for it.â
Now Bridgetâs eyebrows really shot up. The animosity she had sensed simmering just beneath his surface had boiled right up from under the lid, burning her with hisses and steam. This time she didnât battle anything except Jones when she replied. âMy father had nothing to do with my progress,â she snapped. âI earned my position, too, Agent Jones. By working my ass off, fighting a hell of a lot harder than you, and by making sacrifices you couldnât begin to understand. Donât you dare suggest otherwise. If anybody gets handed anything in this business, itâs those of you who have a Y chromosome. We women get handed jack. We have to work twice as hard as any of you guys to get half as much.â
He set his jaw tightly at her outburst, but he said nothing more in response. Which was just as well.Bridgetâs animosity wasnât exactly cooling at the moment, and she hated losing control almost as much as she hated not being taken seriously. Jones cranked the key in the ignition then, turning his gaze forward. He said not another word for the rest of the ride, and that was just fine with Bridget. She wanted to be rid of the SOB as soon as possible. And until then, she wanted to forget he existed at all.
The Portland field office of the FBI was located in the Crown Plaza Building, a boxy white building downtown that housed a number of other organizations and businesses. The city itself was just as Bridget had seen it the last time she had spent more than a couple of days at home about seventeen months ago. When sheâd come home for Peter and Katieâs reception, sheâd barely seen anything outside the Logan home. The only difference now was that when sheâd been home two Christmases ago, for all of five days, a delicate whisper of snow had been fallingâa fairly rare occurrence for the city. Now, a fine gauze of rain misted over the entire downtown, the product of fat slate clouds overhead. In spite of that, a strange warmth spread through her. Even though, under other circumstances, she might have been in Vienna at the moment, it really did feel kind of nice to be home.
Until she remembered her dour driver. Once she got rid of Agent Jones, she amended, then it would feel kind of nice to be home.
He parked the car on a lower level of the parking garage and, again without a word, unfolded his big frame from behind the wheel and began walking toward the elevators before Bridgetâs feet even touched the ground.