Cross roads, p.29
Cross Roads, page 29
“Name it, and it’s yours.”
“What I need is your forgiveness.”
“For what?’
“Loving you.”
* * *
A vast wave of confusion swept over Rohan, thrashing him around like a surfer without the balancing weight of his board.
“Why would I need to forgive you for such a gift?”
“Because everyone I’ve ever loved, everyone I’ve ever cared about has died. Not left me. But died.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “Those are lousy odds for you.”
“Another thing about Blackwells”—he moved in closer—“is that we beat the odds”—he slid his nose along hers—“every time.”
She made a distressed sound before covering his mouth with hers. Tingling warmth spread across his chest, pushing away the fear, the uncertainty. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, a silent request. A plea to recapture the same closeness they’d both reveled in last night.
Before his world came tumbling down.
His beautiful painter opened the door, and he slipped inside, exploring, enticing, worshiping.
When her body surged forward, pushing him back into the cushions, Rohan’s mind splintered and he reached for the hem of her top.
“I knew Desmond didn’t sound right,” Zeke said, striding back into the office. He froze.
They froze.
Zeke blinked, then averted his eyes. “About time y’all made nice.” He made a show of sitting down and pulling a piece of paper from a beige file folder.
Once Lena settled in next to him again, Rohan placed a hand on her thigh, needing the contact. “What do you have on Desmond?”
Zeke thrust the paper at Rohan.
“What’s this?”
“Page three of Palmer’s background check.”
Rohan’s lust-glazed eyes did a quick scan, but every word looked foreign, indecipherable.
He could still taste Lena, smell her, feel her. The paper shook in his hand.
“Give me a damn clue here, Zeke.”
His brother ripped the page from his grasp. “Section Twelve, Direct Reports—”
Rohan snatched it back. “I don’t need to be spoon-fed. Just focused.”
Zeke grunted and murmured, “Could’ve fooled me. Palmer’s chief of personal security is a Nepali-American woman by the name of Sreva Rai.”
Lena frowned. “Who is Desmond to Palmer then? The senator clearly knew him—and had no problem with his fiancée having a cozy tête-à-tête with the man.”
“Desmond Locke,” Rohan read. “Chief of Cybersecurity.”
“Cyber?” Lena rose and paced away a few feet, then turned back to them. “Now I understand how Desmond uncovered my Angela Jones identity.”
Rohan shook his head. “No, something more is at play here, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Give me what you’ve got,” Zeke said.
“Both Ash and I failed to uncover even a slice of Lena’s life before she hit fifteen. I don’t buy that Desmond pulled a section of her life out of a hat at the snap of Izzy’s fingers.”
“I’m with you,” Zeke said. “So how’d he do it?”
“He had a piece of the puzzle that we didn’t.”
“Like what?”
“The identity of my adoptive father Neil,” Lena chimed in. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He’s the one and only link between Anjali, Angela, and Angelena.”
“How did Desmond discover Jones?” Zeke asked.
“The billion-dollar question.”
“Sounds like y’all could use some help,” an amused female voice said.
Kayla Krowne leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across her middle. She wore a lightweight black sweater, slim gray pants, and practical leather boots.
“Thanks for answering my text on such short notice,” Zeke said. “You really were in the area.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.” She turned brown eyes on Lena. “Twice in twenty-four hours. We’re destined to be friends.”
“Being friends with me is dangerous.”
“I thrive in high-risk situations.” She smiled, then leaned back to look in the outer room. “Is my BFF joining us?”
Zeke shook his head. “Travel baseball. Liv took Brodie to an overnight baseball tournament in Gaston.” He nodded toward the front of the building. “Did you see a pony-tailed sheriff loitering outside?”
“In the parking lot. She appeared to be in a Texas showdown with Grams and her utility vehicle.”
Zeke groaned.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Rohan asked, itchy to get back to the keyboard. Maggie could hold her own with Grams.
Zeke motioned for everyone to sit. Rohan and Lena returned to the couch and Kayla lowered herself into the other guest chair.
“I recognized Isabella DeCarlo’s name from Palmer’s background check.”
Kayla hitched up a brow. “Doing a background check on a sitting senator. This is getting better and better.”
“Although Liv and Phin vouched for you,” Zeke said, a warning note in his voice, “I want to make it clear that anything we discuss today stays in this room.”
Kayla’s lips twitched. “What would you do if I discussed it with all my closest pals? Hang me up by my toes until I apologized?”
Rohan could almost see his brother’s blood pressure shooting into the next galaxy. Normally, outsiders heeded Zeke’s commands with little or no pushback. But Kayla swam in an ocean of sharks on a daily basis. She recognized the different between a nose bump and a bite.
Zeke’s features took on the same expression he used to get when his younger brothers had pulled off a successful prank. “I’ll make a stop at every one of your fancy houses and piss on your fancy beds. How does that sound?”
“Revolting.” She exhaled. “I’m so glad I don’t have any brothers.”
Grinning, Lena wound her fingers between Rohan’s. He tried to smile back, but the passage of time drummed in his head. He needed to get back to his hunt.
“As I was saying,” Zeke threw Kayla an annoyed look before turning back to Lena, “your mention of Isabella DeCarlo also reminded me of a comment Liv made a few weeks ago, after she read about the senator’s engagement.”
Lena’s nails pressed into Rohan’s flesh, as if preparing herself for bad news.
“Liv said her former colleagues in the FBI’s white-collar squad had been monitoring the senator’s campaign finances since before his first election, but they’ve never been able to nail him down on anything.”
Rohan looked at Kayla. “Are you here to fill in the gaps on Palmer?”
Kayla’s lobbying firm no doubt had reams of research on Palmer, and every other politician in North Carolina, making BARS’s background check look like a shopping list.
“Blaise Palmer comes from an extremely wealthy family,” Kayla said. “His late grandfather made millions in the coal industry and his father is now making bank in renewable energies.” She crossed one long leg over the other, settling into her story. “Gerard Palmer is a shrewd businessman and, at seventy-four, still holds a great deal of influence over his son.”
“Keen for his son to become the next president of the United States,” Rohan concluded.
Kayla nodded. “I’m certain the senator’s engagement to Miss DeCarlo was his father’s doing.”
“Why certain?” Zeke asked.
“Bella DeCarlo doesn’t have the right equipment to hold Blaise’s interest in bed.”
After a moment of speculative silence, Lena said, “Izzy further legitimizes the persona they’ve molding for years.”
“Rumors have been circulating for years about the senator’s sexual leanings,” Kayla said, “and not just that he prefers men, but men with certain shared kinks.”
“Desmond,” Rohan said, recalling the man’s provocative words to him in Izzy’s boudoir.
“He started working for the senator about a year ago. My source inside the senator’s household has observed Desmond leaving the senator’s bedroom more than once.” Kayla tapped her nails against the chair’s arm. “What I don’t understand is how Bella DeCarlo fits into all of this.”
“What do you mean?” Rohan asked.
“Bella’s like a black dress amidst a circle of pastels. She doesn’t fit into the picture that Gerard Palmer has painstakingly staged.” Kayla considered Lena. “Any thoughts on what value she would bring to the Palmer empire?”
Lena shrugged. “Izzy’s gorgeous and intelligent. Adaptable and cunning. She’s a rags-to-riches success story. She’s also extremely ambitious.”
“Ambitious enough to overlook her husband’s lovers?” Rohan asked.
“If a loveless marriage garnered her the title of First Lady, Izzy would likely escort the men to her husband’s bed.”
“She sounds delightful,” Kayla said. “I almost wish you hadn’t talked me out of approaching her the other night.”
Lena grinned. “Me too. It would’ve been entertaining watching the two of you spar.”
The conversation around Rohan faded as his mind whirled with possibilities and connections and a hundred different scenarios. Yet he still couldn’t figure out how Desmond knew about Lena’s adoptive father.
Rohan caught Kayla’s eye. “Does the name Neil Jones ring any bells with you?”
She took a moment to think, then shook her head. “Who is he?”
“A man who played a part in murdering my parents, then raised me as his own,” Lena said. She summed up the first half of her life in a no-nonsense voice. But Rohan knew what it must have cost her to share such a painful past with someone she’d only just met.
Empathy softened Kayla’s features, but she didn’t offer condolences or other platitudes people awkwardly conveyed in moments like this. She stuck to being Kayla.
“Damn girl, you really are a person of fascination.”
64
“Where’s everyone hiding?” Maggie called from the outer room.
When Rohan’s hand tensed in Lena’s, she sent him an encouraging smile—or tried to—before rising to meet the newcomer.
When she cleared Rohan’s office and got her first in-person look at Sheriff Maggie Kingston, Lena wondered if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
A drab beige uniform encased Maggie’s long, athletic build, which somehow magnified her attributes. If her brown hair had been five shades darker and she had traded out her crisp polyester uniform for a red leather bodice and blue skirt, she would’ve blended in well on the island of Themyscira, along with Princess Diana and the other Amazonian warriors.
Lena inwardly smiled at her Marvel-influenced imagination, even while straightening her spine and cursing her comfortable, but grounded, On tennis shoes. Right then, she would’ve sacrificed a month’s worth of chocolate for the extra four inches her Veronica Beard boots would’ve added to her height.
Extending a hand, Lena said, “Thanks for coming, Sheriff Kingston.”
“Just Maggie. Please.” Steele Ridge’s top officer smiled as she shook Lena’s hand. “You made quite an impression on my sister Riley. She talks about you as if you’re already one of the ‘girls.’” Maggie glanced behind Lena and lowered her voice. “Considering Rohan’s growing scowl, I’d say she sized up the situation pretty well.”
Lena peered over her shoulder and, sure enough, Rohan stood at his office door, eyeing the bulky duffel bag the sheriff carried with suspicion.
Maggie released Lena’s hand. “Ready?”
“Ready for what?” he asked, moving to Lena’s side.
The sheriff lifted a puzzled brow in Lena’s direction.
Clasping a hand around his forearm, Lena said, “Go back inside and finish hearing what Kayla has to say. This,” she motioned toward Maggie, “is personal, as I mentioned.”
“What’s in the bag, Sheriff?” Rohan asked, a rare hardness in his voice.
Maggie’s chin lifted, and her already square shoulders sharpened. “This is a police matter.”
“Why aren’t you having this conversation at the police station then?” Zeke asked, inserting himself into the discussion.
“I try hard not to be disrespectful to ninety-year-old women.” Maggie took in the offices, then the open conference room. “The Theater might be better than using Lynette’s office. It’ll give us more room.” She looked at Zeke. “Okay with you?”
“Sure. I love it when law enforcement takes over our office. Can I fetch you some coffee? Show you where the restrooms are located?”
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” Lena said, wishing she’d followed her gut and met Maggie at the loft. “As Maggie suggested, your mother and grandmother insisted we use the Annex.” She sent the sheriff an apologetic smile. “We should go.”
Rohan grasped her hand before she could take a step toward the exit and stabbed a “behave” look at his brother. “You’re welcome to use the Theater.”
Kayla appeared and held up her phone to Lena, screen side out. “Bella DeCarlo accepted my invitation to lunch.”
“What the actual fuck is going on?” Zeke said, his annoyance climbing to a full boil.
Kayla settled amused eyes on Lena, and the friendship the lobbyist had hinted at took root in Lena’s chest. Anxiety wormed its way into her heart, but Lena didn’t have time to worry about the consequences to those who got too close. Not with Zeke’s head about to pop off, and Rohan’s patience thinning.
“Maggie and Kayla, would you bring Zeke up to date, while I speak with Rohan?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes on Kayla. “In the area, my ass.”
“True statement.”
“Don’t pull your lobbyist mumbo jumbo on me.”
Maggie followed Zeke and Kayla into the Theater, grinning as she listened to the two warheads continue their back and forth bickering.
Rohan stroked a finger along Lena’s jawline. “Tell me what you girls have cooked up. Please.”
“I can’t let Izzy get away with killing Simon, Ruthie, Bobby, and quite possibly Xander.”
“You’ve decided she had something to do with Byrne’s death?”
“I don’t know, but Desmond was obviously following us. If he was willing to kill Ruthie and Bobby, why not Xander?” With all the recent revelations, Lena no longer bought into Izzy’s shock and outrage at hearing about Xander’s death.
“For what purpose?”
“Maybe Desmond made a mistake. Maybe he had expected me to walk into the studio, and Xander surprised him.”
Rohan rested a hand on her hip, and she felt the warmth all the way to the soles of her feet. “Is that what you think? Izzy sent Desmond to hurt you and wound up killing Xander instead?”
“Again, I don’t know. But all of this feels connected, and there’s only one way to find out for sure.”
His fingers tensed around her hip. “How?”
“By asking Izzy.”
He said nothing. Just stared at her, waiting.
“While wearing a recording device.”
He closed his eyes, as if her answer had dealt him a mortal wound. “Please tell me you’re joking. Tell me you’re not talking about attempting to get a confession out of a presumed killer. One you’ve said will stop at nothing to become the nation’s First Lady.”
When he put her plan in those terms, it did sound a bit iffy. For a moment, a brief moment, she considered calling it off. Then a collage of faces that Izzy and Desmond had hurt filled her vision. “I’m equally motivated.”
No doubt hearing the determination in her voice, he nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“Wait, what about the ransom demand?”
“Later.”
“Rohan—”
“Thanks to you, we have a strategy to deal with the Collective.” He brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. “We’ll deal with Izzy together.”
“But I thought you wanted to hunt down the Collective.”
“I do and I will. First things first.” He kissed her, hard and fast. “Let’s see what kind of shit surveillance equipment Maggie brought with her.” He winked and placed a hand on her back as they joined the others.
For the first time in two decades, Lena felt loved and safe and not alone.
65
“Everyone meet at the van in ninety minutes,” Zeke said, wrapping up their strategy session and heading to the kitchenette.
Lena leaned toward Kayla, who was sitting next to her. “Would you mind giving me a lift back to my place? It’s downtown.”
“Absolutely. Are you ready to go now?”
“Right after I use the restroom.”
“Why do you need to go to your loft?” Rohan asked, overhearing their conversation.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday.”
“Don’t you have something at the cabin you can change into?”
“Yes, but I need to take care of some things at the loft.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“You have too much to do here,” she said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
The conflict raging inside him was real, and Lena nearly gave in. He’d already lost two hours and would likely lose several more by helping Lena take down Izzy. But she couldn’t have him tagging along. Not on this trip.
“I’ll stay with her until she’s ready to return,” Kayla offered.
Rohan raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, okay. Just call me if anything—and I mean anything—goes sideways.”
Lena kissed his cheek, and they both rose.
The Annex’s inner door opened and, a few seconds later, a dark-haired man wearing a rumpled blue suit coat, white dress shirt, and dark gray slacks appeared.
Coffee mug in hand, Zeke halted mid-stride. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too, bro,” the man said.
Bro?
Lena frowned, but her confusion lasted only a second. This must be Ash. The eldest brother who had left the family business to pursue a career with the FBI.
Ash glanced around the room until his gaze hit on Kayla, who seemed to be lounging in a far more relaxed pose now than she had been a few seconds ago. His features hardened into suspicion. “What’s going on?”
“What I need is your forgiveness.”
“For what?’
“Loving you.”
* * *
A vast wave of confusion swept over Rohan, thrashing him around like a surfer without the balancing weight of his board.
“Why would I need to forgive you for such a gift?”
“Because everyone I’ve ever loved, everyone I’ve ever cared about has died. Not left me. But died.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “Those are lousy odds for you.”
“Another thing about Blackwells”—he moved in closer—“is that we beat the odds”—he slid his nose along hers—“every time.”
She made a distressed sound before covering his mouth with hers. Tingling warmth spread across his chest, pushing away the fear, the uncertainty. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, a silent request. A plea to recapture the same closeness they’d both reveled in last night.
Before his world came tumbling down.
His beautiful painter opened the door, and he slipped inside, exploring, enticing, worshiping.
When her body surged forward, pushing him back into the cushions, Rohan’s mind splintered and he reached for the hem of her top.
“I knew Desmond didn’t sound right,” Zeke said, striding back into the office. He froze.
They froze.
Zeke blinked, then averted his eyes. “About time y’all made nice.” He made a show of sitting down and pulling a piece of paper from a beige file folder.
Once Lena settled in next to him again, Rohan placed a hand on her thigh, needing the contact. “What do you have on Desmond?”
Zeke thrust the paper at Rohan.
“What’s this?”
“Page three of Palmer’s background check.”
Rohan’s lust-glazed eyes did a quick scan, but every word looked foreign, indecipherable.
He could still taste Lena, smell her, feel her. The paper shook in his hand.
“Give me a damn clue here, Zeke.”
His brother ripped the page from his grasp. “Section Twelve, Direct Reports—”
Rohan snatched it back. “I don’t need to be spoon-fed. Just focused.”
Zeke grunted and murmured, “Could’ve fooled me. Palmer’s chief of personal security is a Nepali-American woman by the name of Sreva Rai.”
Lena frowned. “Who is Desmond to Palmer then? The senator clearly knew him—and had no problem with his fiancée having a cozy tête-à-tête with the man.”
“Desmond Locke,” Rohan read. “Chief of Cybersecurity.”
“Cyber?” Lena rose and paced away a few feet, then turned back to them. “Now I understand how Desmond uncovered my Angela Jones identity.”
Rohan shook his head. “No, something more is at play here, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Give me what you’ve got,” Zeke said.
“Both Ash and I failed to uncover even a slice of Lena’s life before she hit fifteen. I don’t buy that Desmond pulled a section of her life out of a hat at the snap of Izzy’s fingers.”
“I’m with you,” Zeke said. “So how’d he do it?”
“He had a piece of the puzzle that we didn’t.”
“Like what?”
“The identity of my adoptive father Neil,” Lena chimed in. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He’s the one and only link between Anjali, Angela, and Angelena.”
“How did Desmond discover Jones?” Zeke asked.
“The billion-dollar question.”
“Sounds like y’all could use some help,” an amused female voice said.
Kayla Krowne leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across her middle. She wore a lightweight black sweater, slim gray pants, and practical leather boots.
“Thanks for answering my text on such short notice,” Zeke said. “You really were in the area.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.” She turned brown eyes on Lena. “Twice in twenty-four hours. We’re destined to be friends.”
“Being friends with me is dangerous.”
“I thrive in high-risk situations.” She smiled, then leaned back to look in the outer room. “Is my BFF joining us?”
Zeke shook his head. “Travel baseball. Liv took Brodie to an overnight baseball tournament in Gaston.” He nodded toward the front of the building. “Did you see a pony-tailed sheriff loitering outside?”
“In the parking lot. She appeared to be in a Texas showdown with Grams and her utility vehicle.”
Zeke groaned.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Rohan asked, itchy to get back to the keyboard. Maggie could hold her own with Grams.
Zeke motioned for everyone to sit. Rohan and Lena returned to the couch and Kayla lowered herself into the other guest chair.
“I recognized Isabella DeCarlo’s name from Palmer’s background check.”
Kayla hitched up a brow. “Doing a background check on a sitting senator. This is getting better and better.”
“Although Liv and Phin vouched for you,” Zeke said, a warning note in his voice, “I want to make it clear that anything we discuss today stays in this room.”
Kayla’s lips twitched. “What would you do if I discussed it with all my closest pals? Hang me up by my toes until I apologized?”
Rohan could almost see his brother’s blood pressure shooting into the next galaxy. Normally, outsiders heeded Zeke’s commands with little or no pushback. But Kayla swam in an ocean of sharks on a daily basis. She recognized the different between a nose bump and a bite.
Zeke’s features took on the same expression he used to get when his younger brothers had pulled off a successful prank. “I’ll make a stop at every one of your fancy houses and piss on your fancy beds. How does that sound?”
“Revolting.” She exhaled. “I’m so glad I don’t have any brothers.”
Grinning, Lena wound her fingers between Rohan’s. He tried to smile back, but the passage of time drummed in his head. He needed to get back to his hunt.
“As I was saying,” Zeke threw Kayla an annoyed look before turning back to Lena, “your mention of Isabella DeCarlo also reminded me of a comment Liv made a few weeks ago, after she read about the senator’s engagement.”
Lena’s nails pressed into Rohan’s flesh, as if preparing herself for bad news.
“Liv said her former colleagues in the FBI’s white-collar squad had been monitoring the senator’s campaign finances since before his first election, but they’ve never been able to nail him down on anything.”
Rohan looked at Kayla. “Are you here to fill in the gaps on Palmer?”
Kayla’s lobbying firm no doubt had reams of research on Palmer, and every other politician in North Carolina, making BARS’s background check look like a shopping list.
“Blaise Palmer comes from an extremely wealthy family,” Kayla said. “His late grandfather made millions in the coal industry and his father is now making bank in renewable energies.” She crossed one long leg over the other, settling into her story. “Gerard Palmer is a shrewd businessman and, at seventy-four, still holds a great deal of influence over his son.”
“Keen for his son to become the next president of the United States,” Rohan concluded.
Kayla nodded. “I’m certain the senator’s engagement to Miss DeCarlo was his father’s doing.”
“Why certain?” Zeke asked.
“Bella DeCarlo doesn’t have the right equipment to hold Blaise’s interest in bed.”
After a moment of speculative silence, Lena said, “Izzy further legitimizes the persona they’ve molding for years.”
“Rumors have been circulating for years about the senator’s sexual leanings,” Kayla said, “and not just that he prefers men, but men with certain shared kinks.”
“Desmond,” Rohan said, recalling the man’s provocative words to him in Izzy’s boudoir.
“He started working for the senator about a year ago. My source inside the senator’s household has observed Desmond leaving the senator’s bedroom more than once.” Kayla tapped her nails against the chair’s arm. “What I don’t understand is how Bella DeCarlo fits into all of this.”
“What do you mean?” Rohan asked.
“Bella’s like a black dress amidst a circle of pastels. She doesn’t fit into the picture that Gerard Palmer has painstakingly staged.” Kayla considered Lena. “Any thoughts on what value she would bring to the Palmer empire?”
Lena shrugged. “Izzy’s gorgeous and intelligent. Adaptable and cunning. She’s a rags-to-riches success story. She’s also extremely ambitious.”
“Ambitious enough to overlook her husband’s lovers?” Rohan asked.
“If a loveless marriage garnered her the title of First Lady, Izzy would likely escort the men to her husband’s bed.”
“She sounds delightful,” Kayla said. “I almost wish you hadn’t talked me out of approaching her the other night.”
Lena grinned. “Me too. It would’ve been entertaining watching the two of you spar.”
The conversation around Rohan faded as his mind whirled with possibilities and connections and a hundred different scenarios. Yet he still couldn’t figure out how Desmond knew about Lena’s adoptive father.
Rohan caught Kayla’s eye. “Does the name Neil Jones ring any bells with you?”
She took a moment to think, then shook her head. “Who is he?”
“A man who played a part in murdering my parents, then raised me as his own,” Lena said. She summed up the first half of her life in a no-nonsense voice. But Rohan knew what it must have cost her to share such a painful past with someone she’d only just met.
Empathy softened Kayla’s features, but she didn’t offer condolences or other platitudes people awkwardly conveyed in moments like this. She stuck to being Kayla.
“Damn girl, you really are a person of fascination.”
64
“Where’s everyone hiding?” Maggie called from the outer room.
When Rohan’s hand tensed in Lena’s, she sent him an encouraging smile—or tried to—before rising to meet the newcomer.
When she cleared Rohan’s office and got her first in-person look at Sheriff Maggie Kingston, Lena wondered if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
A drab beige uniform encased Maggie’s long, athletic build, which somehow magnified her attributes. If her brown hair had been five shades darker and she had traded out her crisp polyester uniform for a red leather bodice and blue skirt, she would’ve blended in well on the island of Themyscira, along with Princess Diana and the other Amazonian warriors.
Lena inwardly smiled at her Marvel-influenced imagination, even while straightening her spine and cursing her comfortable, but grounded, On tennis shoes. Right then, she would’ve sacrificed a month’s worth of chocolate for the extra four inches her Veronica Beard boots would’ve added to her height.
Extending a hand, Lena said, “Thanks for coming, Sheriff Kingston.”
“Just Maggie. Please.” Steele Ridge’s top officer smiled as she shook Lena’s hand. “You made quite an impression on my sister Riley. She talks about you as if you’re already one of the ‘girls.’” Maggie glanced behind Lena and lowered her voice. “Considering Rohan’s growing scowl, I’d say she sized up the situation pretty well.”
Lena peered over her shoulder and, sure enough, Rohan stood at his office door, eyeing the bulky duffel bag the sheriff carried with suspicion.
Maggie released Lena’s hand. “Ready?”
“Ready for what?” he asked, moving to Lena’s side.
The sheriff lifted a puzzled brow in Lena’s direction.
Clasping a hand around his forearm, Lena said, “Go back inside and finish hearing what Kayla has to say. This,” she motioned toward Maggie, “is personal, as I mentioned.”
“What’s in the bag, Sheriff?” Rohan asked, a rare hardness in his voice.
Maggie’s chin lifted, and her already square shoulders sharpened. “This is a police matter.”
“Why aren’t you having this conversation at the police station then?” Zeke asked, inserting himself into the discussion.
“I try hard not to be disrespectful to ninety-year-old women.” Maggie took in the offices, then the open conference room. “The Theater might be better than using Lynette’s office. It’ll give us more room.” She looked at Zeke. “Okay with you?”
“Sure. I love it when law enforcement takes over our office. Can I fetch you some coffee? Show you where the restrooms are located?”
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” Lena said, wishing she’d followed her gut and met Maggie at the loft. “As Maggie suggested, your mother and grandmother insisted we use the Annex.” She sent the sheriff an apologetic smile. “We should go.”
Rohan grasped her hand before she could take a step toward the exit and stabbed a “behave” look at his brother. “You’re welcome to use the Theater.”
Kayla appeared and held up her phone to Lena, screen side out. “Bella DeCarlo accepted my invitation to lunch.”
“What the actual fuck is going on?” Zeke said, his annoyance climbing to a full boil.
Kayla settled amused eyes on Lena, and the friendship the lobbyist had hinted at took root in Lena’s chest. Anxiety wormed its way into her heart, but Lena didn’t have time to worry about the consequences to those who got too close. Not with Zeke’s head about to pop off, and Rohan’s patience thinning.
“Maggie and Kayla, would you bring Zeke up to date, while I speak with Rohan?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes on Kayla. “In the area, my ass.”
“True statement.”
“Don’t pull your lobbyist mumbo jumbo on me.”
Maggie followed Zeke and Kayla into the Theater, grinning as she listened to the two warheads continue their back and forth bickering.
Rohan stroked a finger along Lena’s jawline. “Tell me what you girls have cooked up. Please.”
“I can’t let Izzy get away with killing Simon, Ruthie, Bobby, and quite possibly Xander.”
“You’ve decided she had something to do with Byrne’s death?”
“I don’t know, but Desmond was obviously following us. If he was willing to kill Ruthie and Bobby, why not Xander?” With all the recent revelations, Lena no longer bought into Izzy’s shock and outrage at hearing about Xander’s death.
“For what purpose?”
“Maybe Desmond made a mistake. Maybe he had expected me to walk into the studio, and Xander surprised him.”
Rohan rested a hand on her hip, and she felt the warmth all the way to the soles of her feet. “Is that what you think? Izzy sent Desmond to hurt you and wound up killing Xander instead?”
“Again, I don’t know. But all of this feels connected, and there’s only one way to find out for sure.”
His fingers tensed around her hip. “How?”
“By asking Izzy.”
He said nothing. Just stared at her, waiting.
“While wearing a recording device.”
He closed his eyes, as if her answer had dealt him a mortal wound. “Please tell me you’re joking. Tell me you’re not talking about attempting to get a confession out of a presumed killer. One you’ve said will stop at nothing to become the nation’s First Lady.”
When he put her plan in those terms, it did sound a bit iffy. For a moment, a brief moment, she considered calling it off. Then a collage of faces that Izzy and Desmond had hurt filled her vision. “I’m equally motivated.”
No doubt hearing the determination in her voice, he nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“Wait, what about the ransom demand?”
“Later.”
“Rohan—”
“Thanks to you, we have a strategy to deal with the Collective.” He brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. “We’ll deal with Izzy together.”
“But I thought you wanted to hunt down the Collective.”
“I do and I will. First things first.” He kissed her, hard and fast. “Let’s see what kind of shit surveillance equipment Maggie brought with her.” He winked and placed a hand on her back as they joined the others.
For the first time in two decades, Lena felt loved and safe and not alone.
65
“Everyone meet at the van in ninety minutes,” Zeke said, wrapping up their strategy session and heading to the kitchenette.
Lena leaned toward Kayla, who was sitting next to her. “Would you mind giving me a lift back to my place? It’s downtown.”
“Absolutely. Are you ready to go now?”
“Right after I use the restroom.”
“Why do you need to go to your loft?” Rohan asked, overhearing their conversation.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday.”
“Don’t you have something at the cabin you can change into?”
“Yes, but I need to take care of some things at the loft.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“You have too much to do here,” she said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
The conflict raging inside him was real, and Lena nearly gave in. He’d already lost two hours and would likely lose several more by helping Lena take down Izzy. But she couldn’t have him tagging along. Not on this trip.
“I’ll stay with her until she’s ready to return,” Kayla offered.
Rohan raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, okay. Just call me if anything—and I mean anything—goes sideways.”
Lena kissed his cheek, and they both rose.
The Annex’s inner door opened and, a few seconds later, a dark-haired man wearing a rumpled blue suit coat, white dress shirt, and dark gray slacks appeared.
Coffee mug in hand, Zeke halted mid-stride. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too, bro,” the man said.
Bro?
Lena frowned, but her confusion lasted only a second. This must be Ash. The eldest brother who had left the family business to pursue a career with the FBI.
Ash glanced around the room until his gaze hit on Kayla, who seemed to be lounging in a far more relaxed pose now than she had been a few seconds ago. His features hardened into suspicion. “What’s going on?”
