Page 9 of Catch Me When I Fall

That got a reaction out of him. “I didn’t know Mags was at Hallow Ranch, let alone that he hasn’t left the fucking place in over ten years.”

“Always the one with secrets,” I muttered.

His dark eyes flashed. “Always the one with authority issues.”

We stared at each other for a few more minutes, and when he finally broke the silence, I could hear a hint of regret in his voice. “Bring Carrie back home.”

I said nothing, turning to head to the door once more.

“I’m sorry, Grayson,” he said to my back.

My hand landed on the doorknob and twisted it. Then, I was gone, leaving the agent’s apology in the dust.

I sat in the SUV I’d rented, bracing myself for the information I was about to inhale about Carrie Hale. Leaning back, I rested the file against the steering wheel before pinching the bridge of my nose. A second later, the cab filled with the sound of my cell ringing.

Muttering a curse, I connected the Blue-tooth and answered. “Grayson.”

“Goodman is taken care off,” Hayes informed me, not bothering with a greeting.

Well, that was something.

“Where was he?”

“In a resort hotel down the coast,” he answered.

My brow furrowed; the Hale case forgotten for a moment. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Hayes grunted. “Yeah, neither did the fifteen grams of cocaine in his system and the four hookers with him.”

I looked at the window. “You take care of it?”

“Always do,” Hayes returned, his voice low. “Money should be in our account within the hour.”

“If its not, then—”

“—Dominic gets to play,” he said, finishing my sentence.

My lips twitched. “He hasn’t had a chance to play in a long time.”

“Enough about that,” Hayes declared. “The case is done, the money is coming, and the question is: when do you want me out there?”

“Told you last night, Hayes; I got this one.”

“You sure?” he pressed.

That was the thing about Hayes. He didn’t like any of us working alone. Of course, that went back to him losing his team during his last tour. It was a bloody nightmare, and Hayes still hadn’t fully recovered. He never would. He’d told me once that he didn’t have the strength to grieve; all he could do was bury the pain and pray to God it would stay buried.

Who was I to tell him how to deal with his shit? I had my own shit, my own demons.

“Have you gotten what you need?” Hayes asked, pulling me back to the present.

“Just left Garner’s office,” I mumbled, sighing as I focused back on the file.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his voice hard. He, like the rest of the team, knew about my history with Garner. “You good?”

“Always,” I answered automatically.

“Right,” he muttered, not bothering to press it. He knew me too well.

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