Page 45 of Final Vendetta

“What did you find?” I answered gruffly, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Nice to hear your voice too, buddy,” Henry deadpanned, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “What did you find on Myers?”

After the agent’s surprise visit yesterday, I’d been on edge. Something about him didn’t sit right with me, especially once I learned he’d paid Imogene a visit in the hospital. I couldn’t help but find it incredibly suspicious that he just so happened to stop by during one of the few times I wasn’t around. It was almost like he’d purposefully waited to get her alone.

I wanted to know why.

“Your boy’s squeaky clean,” Henry answered. “Exemplary FBI record, not a single black mark. Same for his teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“He teaches criminology and profiling classes at various colleges in the area. The staff and students all love him. In fact, his classes usually have a long waitlist.”

“What about his personal life?” I pressed, taking another long sip of my drink, growing more irritated with every passing second.

“Same story there. He’s spotless. Pays off his credit card in full every month. Goes to church every Sunday, although we both know that doesn’t necessarily mean shit.”

“You’re right about that,” I huffed, recalling the horror we endured at that foster home from two people who purported to be righteous and Godly.

They were anything but.

“He coaches his niece’s swim team,” he continued. “Volunteers at a local soup kitchen. He even donates to charities for families of fallen officers. Real choir boy stuff.”

I pushed out a long breath, my shoulders falling. “So he’s legit.”

I’d really hoped he might find something to corroborate the feeling in my gut.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Henry offered. “But no one’s this clean without a reason. Either he’s hoping to be the next Captain America, or he’s hiding skeletons so deep even the Bureau doesn’t know about them.”

“Think you can find out which one it is?”

Henry laughed. “I can find out anything, but it’ll take some time. I’ll let you know what I dig up.”

“Thanks, brother.”

“Any time.” There was a pause, then Henry cleared his throat, his tone losing its typical banter. “How’s Imogene doing, all things considered?”

“Fine,” I bit out as I swallowed down another gulp of whiskey, finishing off the glass. The bartender lifted the bottle, and I nodded. He moved toward me, refilling my glass with more amber liquid.

“That tells me she’s not fine. Or, more accurately, you’re not. What’s going on?”

I sighed, running a hand over my face. “We got into it tonight.”

“What happened?”

“She suggested we get away for a while. Maybe go to Hilton Head of all places. Said we needed time to reconnect. I told her it wasn’t safe, and things just escalated from there.” I hesitated for a beat before confessing, “She said she misses him.”

“Who? Liam?”

“Of course not,” I retorted quickly, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Then I whispered, “Gideon Saint.”

“Oh.”

“How could she say that? How could she even feel that way after everything?” I lowered my voice. “She almost died because of him… Me. Because of the things I’ve done. I thought…” I trailed off, struggling to get my thoughts in order. “I thought she’d be happy with my decision to walk away from that life. From that person. Thought she’d be happy to have Samuel back.”

“But does she?”

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