Page 12 of Fast Justice

When Kevin had first come out to their parents officially five years ago, it hadn’t gone so well. Their dad had taken it especially hard. Either due to his alpha male ego, archaic beliefs, or maybe embarrassment, he’d refused to accept it.

Over the last eighteen months or so he and Kevin had mostly stabilized their rocky relationship, but only because her brother had adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy about his personal life with their parents. Kevin told Rowan everything, though. They weren’t just siblings, they were the best of friends.

“How are you feeling? You sore?” Kevin asked.

“More than I bargained for. I would give anything to crawl back in bed and stay there.”

He made a sound of sympathy. “And I bet you’re working late tonight again, huh.”

“Every day from now until I die, yes,” she said with a wry chuckle, only half-joking. “I’ve signed on for a lifetime of indentured servitude.”

“A chip off the old block. Dad must be so proud,” Kevin teased, and Rowan winced inside. She’d certainly done her best to follow in their father’s footsteps, but he left a wide trail to follow and she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to match it. Deep down, she didn’t want to. “How about I bring you dinner there later on? I’ll get takeout from that Greek place you love.”

He was so good to her. “This is why you’re my favorite brother.”

“I know. You’re lucky to have me.”

“And you never let me forget it.” She was two years older. “And I still think I won the sibling jackpot.”

“Just for that, I’m bringing crème caramel for dessert. And I’ll even take the takeout containers home with me when I leave.”

“You’re a saint.”

“I know. See you at six?” He worked at a pharmacy a few blocks from her office. They had lunch together at least once a week, unless she was preparing for a big case like this one. She missed just spending time with him; he always made her feel better about everything. And she wanted to confide in him about Malcolm, since he’d been the one to introduce the two of them at that veteran’s charity gala last year.

“Perfect. See you then.”

Back in her office, she gave up trying to sway the women to enter WITSEC and tried instead to get more information about Ruiz from Oceane, who translated for her mother. Anya had detailed her account of the attack on her home in Veracruz, as well as given some information on Nieto’s finances that the FBI was looking into as a means of tracking him. But nothing else about his operations, what she knew of his criminal activity, and nothing on the cartel itself.

Rowan wasn’t yet sure if either of the women would be needed to testify against Ruiz, since their contact with him had been minimal, but they were the investigators’ best chance of cracking theVenenocartel wide open.

A knock at the door stopped their conversation. All three of them looked over as it opened, and the sight of Malcolm standing there in the doorway was a punch to Rowan’s senses.

He wore a pair of dark jeans that hugged his powerful thighs, and a pale blue button down that stretched across his chest and shoulders. He’d worn it on their first date, when he’d taken her out to a fancy restaurant on the waterfront. The echo of excited butterflies stirred in her belly at the memory of that night.

“I’m here for Anya,” he said, then looked at Oceane and pushed the door open wider, revealing another big, fit man beside him with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. One of his teammates. “This is Special Agent Gabe Lockhart. He’s been assigned to you.”

Oceane cast an uncertain glance at Rowan before speaking to her mother in Spanish and standing. “You’re our bodyguards?” she asked Malcolm.

Rowan was surprised as well. Why had two FAST Bravo members been tasked with this assignment? And did Malcolm even speak Spanish?

He nodded, his expression grave. “For now. Are you finished in here?” he asked Rowan.

“Yes, for the moment,” she said quickly, covering a wince as she pushed her chair back and got to her feet.

He gestured for Anya to follow him. “This way.”

Rowan trailed after them into the hall, overcome by the strangest sense of abandonment as Malcolm walked away from her. Part of her wanted to call him back.

The thought came out of nowhere, taking her completely off guard. Why did she feel such a strong desire to hold on to him now, when she’d been the one to let him go?

“What about our things?” Oceane asked him as she walked beside her mother. Agent Lockhart followed them, and Rowan behind him.

“Another agent will bring them to your safe house later.” Malcolm stopped and addressed Oceane, ignoring Rowan. For some reason that hurt, though she understood why he didn’t want anything to do with her, and he was here in a professional capacity, not a social one. Except it confused her, his apparent one-eighty after being so concerned and caring after the accident. Now she had two kinds of whiplash. “We’ll give you a minute to say goodbye,” he said, looking between Oceane and her mother.

Oceane’s blue-gray eyes went wide and she gasped as his meaning sank in. “Goodbye?”

He nodded once. “Protocol dictates you’ll be transported to the secure location separately for your own safety.”

---