Page 13 of Shattered

Keaton’s statement was followed immediately by a stern, “Fuck no,” from Noah.

Ignoring everyone else in the room, I narrowed my gaze on the two agents in front of me. Something wasn’t adding up.

“You mean to tell me the DEA doesn’t employ anyone who would fit the description? Why Lanie? What aren’t you saying?”

“You’re right, Koen,” Reed relinquished, shaking his head. “Had we known Agent Biggs wouldn’t be joining us today, we’d have rescheduled for a time when she was available. However, since you asked, I’ll tell you this much. There’s a history between her and Brandon Little.”

Wrenching back from the table, Noah sneered, “What kind of history?”

Noah was damn-near robotic when it came to showing emotion, however, recently when Lanie was involved, his normally stoic behavior had begun to falter. There were little things—subtle things—I’d picked up on over the past couple of months, like the way his eyes sought her out themoment he entered a room. To the untrained eye, his behavior might not have seemed out of the norm. However, my gut told me there was more at play than his instinctual need to protect.

Both agents stood, making it clear they wouldn’t be sharing anything else. While I understood their reluctance, it still pissed me off.

“Let’s reconvene tomorrow morning when she’s available,” Waverly spoke her first words since making introductions.

Without so much as a nod in our direction, they exited the room, leaving Keaton, Noah, and me with more questions than answers.

“This is fucking bullshit,” Keaton fired off, smacking his palms against the wooden table.

“Totally,” I agreed. “But there’s not a whole lot we can do about it until we have the full scoop.”

“We could have Nelson look into this Little character,” he suggested. “He’d find the connection in two seconds flat.”

“And risk the wrath of Lanie when she finds out we dug into her past behind her back? I’d prefer to keep my balls swinging right where they are, thank you very much.”

We continued to deliberate while Noah remained eerily silent. He stared straight ahead while the fingers of one hand tapped out a nervous rhythm against the table; the only sign of his internal turmoil. Finally, he jerked to his feet, upending the chair in the process.

“I have to talk to Lanie,” he mumbled, marching through the doorway.

“Or we could do that.” Keaton shook his head as we scrambled to catch up with our friend.

“Welcome to the hoopla,” Jade slurred when she opened the door to her house thirty minutes later.

Once we left the office, Keaton texted Henley and found out the girls were successful with their intervention, prompting a celebration of sorts, which clearly involved an absurd amount of alcohol.

“You drunk, Angel?”

“Little bit.” She scrunched up her face while holding her thumb and forefinger up to show me how much.

Damn. She was adorable.

“Let’s get you some water.” I steered her down the hallway toward the kitchen with a hand on her lower back.

“Probably smart.”

At the sink, I situated her against the counter, making certain she was stable enough to stand on her own as I rummaged through the cupboards for a glass. Once it was filled, I handed it to her, then mirrored her position.

“Where’s Jett?”

“Upstairs in his room, as usual.” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.”

“Give it time, Jade. He’s a teenage boy full of hormones.”

“It’s not his hormones I’m worried about.”

Leaning in, I lowered my voice. “Have you had any time to think about my proposal?”

It wasn’t exactly fair of me to ask her when she wasn’t thinking clearly, however, I wasn’t above taking advantage of her inebriated state.

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