Page 3 of End Game

Lawson eyed him. “You can be objective?”

If his family hadn’t been involved, he would’ve jumped on the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with Kayla Krowne. But she’d rooted herself in with the Blackwells now, which would make investigating her challenging for him on a personal level. But not impossible.

“Of course.” His headache intensified, as he held out his hand. Lawson slapped the file folder into his palm. “I’d like to say keep me updated, but given the circumstances, it might be best to stick to highlights only. I’d prefer not to have to lie to my cousin.”

Cameron nodded, and Lawson left.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Having a bad day, hon?” a female voice asked.

He dropped his hand and looked up to find the happiest, most energetic person he knew standing in the opening of his cubicle. Liv had dubbed her Peppy Patsy. It fit.

Some might find the office assistant’s constant positivity and casual manner grating. Liv confessed as much to him, even though she liked the older woman. But Cameron appreciated Patsy’s happy countenance and distinctive laugh for the blessings they were.

He produced a smile. “Not anymore.”

“Now, aren’t you sweet.” Her hazel eyes lit with excitement. “I have someone here who’ll perk up your day.”

Wariness made him sit straighter. He rarely got visitors, and those who did come here were generally invited by him.

“Who?”

Patsy glanced to her left as she stepped aside. A tall, broad-shouldered man came into view. “Morning, Ash.”

With those two words, Zeke Blackwell sucked every square inch of air out of the office. Cameron didn’t even have the breath to correct his brother’s use of his first name.

He could think of only one reason why Zeke had entered enemy territory.

To deliver bad news.

2

Cameron slowly rose from his chair. “Thank you, Patsy.”

The assistant must have sensed his brother’s visit wasn’t the welcome relief she’d thought it would be, for her excitement dissipated and she glared at Zeke with unusual ferocity as she brushed past him.

“Protective,” Zeke observed.

“Steadfast.” He threw the word down between them, knowing the subtext wouldn’t be lost on his brother.

Zeke’s jaw tightened, and they stared at each other for a long, taut moment.

“Did something happen to Grams?” he asked, breaking the tense, visual battle.

“No.”

“Mom?”

“No?”

“Who then?”

Instead of answering, Zeke surveyed the elements that warmed up Cameron’s workspace. Framed certificates, newspaper clipping of his first solved case, the ubiquitous Smokey Mountain landscape, the stark cleanliness of his desk. His Academy graduation picture with his family, minus one.

Ever since Cameron left the Blackwells’ repo business to become a special agent, Zeke had made his hatred of the FBI clear. The Bureau had disrupted his brother’s vision of the future. A future that had included Cameron at the helm of a business for which he had no passion, with Zeke sitting in a comfortable position to his right.

Cameron’s so-called betrayal had set off three years of near radio silence between him and his brother. It wasn’t until the Bureau had yanked them both into the Lederman-St. Martin case, where Zeke had been forced to work with Liv Westcott, that rooms no longer iced over when they both entered.

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