Daniel burrowed his chin deeper into his jacket collar, bracing himself against the brisk wind blowing in from the northwest. The atypically strong, early-season cold front that crawled across the area overnight was the talk at the gas station, Laundromat, and coffee shop he’d visited this morning. Still-green leaves and thick acorns that had been ripped away from nearby bur oaks tumbled along the cracked asphalt.
Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked around the front fender of the bright green Kia Soul Quentin had just led him to.
“What do you think of this one?” Quentin asked.
“Umm…I don’t know. It seems a bit…loud.”
“You’ve never met my Ava.” Quentin laughed. “This car is the embodiment of her. Now that Corolla.” He pointed to a tan hatchback three spots down. “That’s more my Emma’s speed. I’m just not sure about buying one an SUV while the other only gets a small sedan. I can already hear the arguments.”
He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. This is uncharted territory for me.”
Daniel had asked Quentin to come over to the apartment so that he could get his thoughts on a few irregularities he’d come across while looking into the background of a Trendsetters employee who’d left the company under suspicious circumstances last year. When Quentin asked if he could wait until he was done shopping for presents for his twin daughters for their upcoming fifteenth birthdays, Daniel had offered to meet up with him.
When he arrived at this used car dealership in Kyle, just south of Austin, Daniel thought he’d punched the wrong address into his phone’s GPS. But Quentin had greeted him and told him this wouldn’t take long.
That was two hours ago. He was certain they’d looked at every single car on this lot.
“Do your girls know how lucky they are?” Daniel asked as he peered into the Kia’s passenger-side window. “I had to buy my own first car, which is why I rode the bus or subway until I was almost twenty.”
“Hey, I’m the one getting off lucky,” Quentin said. “Do you have any idea how much a quinceañera costs these days? More than my wedding and my first car combined. Just the damn party favors they wanted to give out would have cost me a couple of grand. At least they’ll have the cars throughout college.”
“What about this one?” Daniel asked, pointing to another Kia Soul in a nice, sedate cream.
Quentin shook his head. “I know my girls. They won’t want to drive the same model. I need to find something that’s different but comparable. And it has to be perfect. I don’t want to get this wrong and disappoint them.”
The guy was in knots. Granted, he’d known Quentin only a couple of months, but Daniel could have never imagined he’d see the formidable, no-nonsense DHS agent in such a state. Was this the kind of thing he was in store for, twisting himself into a tangle of nerves trying to please his future children?
Future children?
Where in the hell had that come from? The last time he even thought about children was the day he brought up the subject with Joelle. She’d railed against the thought of having kids. As an only child, he’d considered it, but he’d never had a burning desire either way. He just figured if it happened, great. If not, that was good too.
When had his feelings changed? And why was he suddenly daydreaming about what life could be in the distant future, with him and Samiah celebrating their impending newborn at a joint baby shower, complete with gender-neutral cupcakes and party favors that cost a thousand dollars? He didn’t even know if Samiah was open to having a pet goldfish, and here he was thinking about kids.
What was the point when he would be gone in a matter of days? Weeks, if he was lucky. He sucked in a painful breath and tried to quell the overwhelming dread primed to overtake him.
It was time for the knot that formed in the pit of his stomach to start paying rent. It seemed as though it had taken up permanent residence ever since his call with Dwyer earlier this week. His supervisor hadn’t given him a definitive end date, but Daniel sensed that time was closing in. He figured he had about a week at the most before Dwyer would insist he wrap up this case.
The idea that he would lose Samiah wrought the kind of agony that would bring most men to their knees, but that wasn’t the only thing keeping him up at night. Nor was it his future at FinCEN, or getting the better of Bryce Stewart’s showboating ass. The thought of leaving Austin before apprehending the bastards involved in this particular scheme galled him.
And that was before receiving that link from Preston last night.
It had taken Daniel to an underground message board on the dark web that indicated the money-laundering ring coming out of the area in Latin America where the Trendsetters case was centered was possibly expanding to new territory. Territory that those who peddled in much darker things than a little washed money operated in. Just thinking about what they could face if the drug cartels and human trafficking outfits learned how easy it was to launder their ill-gotten gains through something like Trendsetters’ software caused fear to clog Daniel’s throat.
Dwyer wouldn’t put as much stock into what they’d read on the message board, seeing as a lot of what came across those were full of conjecture and baseless rumors, but Daniel wasn’t willing to take a chance on this being unfounded speculation. It was imperative he solve this case before he was pulled out of Austin.
One week. He would give himself one week to get it done. It wasn’t a lot of time, but maybe if he directed more of his focus to doing the work he’d actually been sent here to do, instead of falling in love with a coworker—
Daniel tripped over an orange traffic cone used to delineate the car lot’s walkway.
“You okay?” Quentin asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he replied.
Falling in love?
What in the hell was he talking about? He couldn’t be there yet. No way would he own up to something that over the top. Shit, he’d been with Joelle for six years, and it took at least half that long before he’d considered himself in love with her.
“Hey, you mind if I ask you something?” Quentin asked.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Why’d you turn down the offer Dwyer made to you?”
Daniel’s head reared back. “How do you know about that?”
Quentin just stared at him, one thick brow cocked.
Dammit, he should have known the two men talked. He’d suspected Dwyer was the one who’d requested the Department of Homeland Security place Quentin in the apartment with Daniel, and not the other way around.
“He couldn’t share much about what’s happening in Vegas, but from what he did share this seems like the kind of case that would spring you over quite a few rungs of that career ladder.”
“I told him that I want to see this job through,” Daniel finally answered.
“He could always send someone else to take over the Trendsetters case.”
“It’s not that easy. We had to put this case off for months because Trendsetters’ hiring process is so selective,” he pointed out.
“If Lowell Dwyer needs to make it happen, he’ll make it happen,” Quentin said. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the driver’s side door of a Dodge Ram pickup. “Try again.”
Daniel squared his shoulders and assumed a matching pose. “What do you want me to say?”
“That you got in too deep with Samiah Brooks and now you’re not sure if you can get out. Or if you even want out.”
Fuck. He was obviously as transparent as the windshields on these used cars.
Daniel dropped his head to his chest and sucked in a breath. His head popped up at the sound of Quentin’s laughter.
“You find this funny?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Hilarious, in fact. Do you think you’re the first one this has happened to, young buck? How do you think I met my wife?”
Daniel couldn’t help his grin. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” Quentin shook his head. “I was still at DEA. She was an informant. Her baby brother got caught up in some rough shit and, being the bold, fearless woman that she is, she volunteered to be used as bait.”
“Were you the one who took down her brother?” He nodded. “Damn.” Daniel blew out a low whistle. “Thanksgiving must be loads of fun at your place.”
Quentin’s head shot back with his laugh. “My brother-in-law turned his life around. And he has his big sister to thank for that.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “My supervisor wasn’t happy, but he eventually got over it. If you tell him, he’ll eventually get over it happening with another one of his agents.”
“I knew it.” Daniel huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “Hard to believe Dwyer was your supervisor. He doesn’t look more than a couple of years older than you.”
“He isn’t. But he was a hotshot like you. Always has been. Worked his ass off and worked his way up the ranks faster than the rest of us.” Quentin’s expression became earnest. “He’s a good guy. One of the best. And the fact that he thinks you’re up to the challenge of this Vegas job says a lot about what he thinks of you.”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension. He squinted, almost afraid to see the other man’s reaction to his forthcoming question.
“You think I made a mistake in turning it down, don’t you?” Daniel asked.
The scar at the edge of Quentin’s mouth inched up. “I’m freezing my ass off while I car shop for two princesses who wouldn’t be here if I’d listened to my head instead of my heart when I found myself in your situation almost twenty years ago. I think you did what you think is right for you.”
How in the hell was he supposed to know if this was the right move or not? He’d passed on a career-making opportunity for a woman who had yet to introduce him to her family.
Daniel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. A second later, Quentin’s rang. They looked at each other before looking at their phones.
“Shit,” Daniel said. “Shit.”
“Closing accounts for you too?” Quentin asked.
“This makes three since this morning,” Daniel said. “Shit.”
He took a breath to stop himself from panicking. This activity could mean any number of things. He doubted he’d been found out, but it could mean that someone had been tipped that law enforcement might be on their tail. No matter what, the fact that three of the eight bank accounts they’d been monitoring had been closed in a matter of hours meant that something was definitely up.
If the money launderers went dark, it could be weeks, even months before they surfaced again. It would be hell to find them. All the work they’d done, the man-hours he’d put in, the money that had been spent to facilitate this job; it would all be wasted.
Shit.
He had to get into that database. It was the quickest way to ferret out who was behind this. If there was such a thing as mission critical, they’d just reached it.
* * *
Samiah tucked the bottle of sparkling water under her arm and carried it, along with three glasses, into the living room, stepping out of London’s way as her friend swayed to the smooth, neo-soul sound of Maxwell’s “Ascension” strumming from the Sonos speaker system.
“Anyone else feeling a full-circle moment vibe right now?” London asked.
“Not exactly.” Samiah held up her wineglass. “Last time we met at my place it was Moscow Mules and leftover sushi. This very nice red wine and gourmet popcorn is tres chic, my friend. Good choice.”
“You are very welcome,” London said, still doing what Samiah and her cousins used to call “the old folks’ dance,” rocking from side to side to the rhythm of the classic song. She sauntered over and grabbed a fistful of the rosemary and white truffle popcorn she’d brought with her. “The wine is from a solo trip I took to Italy last year. I’ve been holding on to it for a special occasion. Hanging out with you two seemed special enough to me.”
“You went to Italy? Fun,” Taylor said. “I went back when we lived on the base in Germany, but only for a couple of days. I tried leaning over like the Tower of Pisa but fell and broke my elbow.”
Samiah did her best to hold it together, but after a few seconds she burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s just so…you.”
“Yes, it is so me,” Taylor said.
Samiah frowned at Taylor’s toneless response.
“Hey.” She reached over and gave her a playful tap on the arm. “I was just joking.”
“I know.” Taylor smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Samiah looked over at London, who held both palms up and hunched her shoulders in confusion.
They’d made plans to meet up at her place before going out for sushi at the place that started it all two months ago. But because Austin was once again in the throes of a raging thunderstorm—seriously, this was more rain than they usually saw the entire fall season—no one wanted to leave the condo. Instead, Samiah took out a lasagna Denise had sent over a few days ago and slipped it in the oven. Now that her sister was nearing the end of her pregnancy, she was in full nesting mode. According to Bradley, their freezer was filled with enough casseroles to feed them for the next six months.
Samiah was more than happy to take a few of those meals off their hands. Sharing a home-cooked meal with London and Taylor beat going out to a restaurant. Samiah had discovered that, when it came to these two, the place wasn’t important; it was the company. She’d found something she hadn’t known she’d been missing in her life: true girlfriends.
Earlier, when she told them about the position she’d been offered at Trendsetters, Taylor and London both helped her see that no matter how fulfilling heading up the new Outreach Department might be, giving up on the dreams she had for her app would leave her dissatisfied in the end. She had reached that conclusion days ago, but hearing it from these two—women who got her, who understood her—reaffirmed what she already knew to be the only possible choice for her.
Over the course of these last couple of months, the boyfriend project had morphed into something more powerful than any of them had expected. This undertaking moved far beyond getting themselves in a position to find significant others. This was about finding their life’s truth.
As she sat here, enjoying good wine and even better company, Samiah recognized that she was solidly on that path.
She looked over to Taylor to find her downing the remaining wine in her glass with one huge gulp, then reaching for the wine bottle.
“Whoa there,” Samiah said, plucking the bottle from her hand. “You want to take it easy? Keep that up and you’ll be passed out drunk before we slice into the lasagna.”
“Good. I’m trying to get drunk,” she said.
“No shit. You look like you’re halfway there already.” Samiah poured San Pellegrino into a glass and switched Taylor’s wine stem with the mineral water. “You need to drink some of this before you have more wine,” she said. “Now, do you mind sharing why our resident health nut is trying to get drunk?”
Taylor shook her head.
“Nope, you don’t get to say no,” London said. She perched on the arm of the sofa. “These Friday night get-togethers are supposed to be about having a safe space to air our grievances. From what I’ve seen tonight, you sure as shit have some grievances you need to air out. Let us hear it.”
“Please.” Taylor covered her face with both hands and released a groan. “I honestly don’t want to talk about it. It’s just family crap that I’ve been dealing with my whole life. I’m over it.”
“Over it as in you want to drink yourself into a stupor and then punch the wall, or over it as in we should remove all sharp objects and pills from your apartment before allowing you to be there by yourself tonight?” London asked.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “I’m not suicidal.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with here,” London said.
“It’s the same damn story—no, make that the same damn nightmare. My life is a fucking nightmare!”
Samiah’s head snapped back at the sheer vehemence in Taylor’s agonized outburst. Where was this even coming from? The person sitting before her hardly resembled the happy-go-lucky woman she’d come to know over these past two months.
“Honey, what’s going on?” she asked, concern tightening her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said somewhat sheepishly. “That may have been a tiny bit dramatic. It’s not as serious as you’re probably thinking.”
London bounded up from the arm of the sofa, her hands flailing. “Are you for real right now? I was going through the steps for an intervention in my head.”
“I’m sorry,” she stressed. “It’s just…I come from a family of overachievers,” she said. “And I’m tired of being the one who’s always asked when I’m going to get my shit together.”
“You’re only twenty-eight years old,” London pointed out. “You’re not expected to have your shit together until you’re at least thirty.”
“Well, hell, I guess I need to play catchup.” Samiah laughed.
Taylor didn’t. She turned to London. “How old were you when you finished medical school? Hmm?” She prompted when London remained quiet. “Bet you were younger than twenty-eight.”
“I started undergrad early, and went to summer school to finish ahead of schedule,” London replied.
“But you were still younger than I am, weren’t you?” She turned to Samiah. “And how about you? At twenty-eight you already had a master’s degree and were working in your career, right?”
“It’s not fair to compare yourself to others,” Samiah said. “You can’t—”
“No? Really?” Taylor said, cutting her off. “Because my family always compares. They live to compare.” She started ticking items off on her fingers. “My dad, Mr. Bronze Star himself, was already climbing the ranks of the Army by the time he was my age. Mom had finished law school while raising two children and moving from one Army base to another by my age. My older brother, Darwin? Lawyer. My older sister, Jesamyn? Architect. Even my niece is showing me up. She won the Top Young Scientist award last year.
“And what is Taylor doing? Sitting here without a college degree and keeping her fingers crossed that she can get the chance to teach freaking phys ed to a bunch of homeschooled kids just to make ends meet. I’m tired of being the one everybody in my family looks down on.”
She covered her face with her hands and growled. “Argh, I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s a lot.”
Samiah reached over and peeled Taylor’s fingers from her face. “Come on, stop this,” she said. “I thought we all decided we were no longer living our lives based on what other people think we should be doing. Or because it’s what society says we should do.”
“That’s so easy for you to say,” Taylor said. “You’re not a failure.”
“Okay, that’s enough of that bullshit.” London set her wineglass on the end table. She walked over to Taylor, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up from the sofa. “Look at me,” London said, lifting Taylor’s chin. “Do you enjoy what you’re doing?”
She nodded.
“No. Say it. Answer the question. Do you enjoy being a fitness consultant?”
“Yes.”
“Does it make you happy? Happier than anything else you could be doing with your life?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then that’s all that matters. Everything else is negative bullshit and you don’t need that in your life.”
“But I do need my family,” Taylor said. “As much as they drive me crazy, I love them. I just wish I could have something exciting to share with them when I go home for Thanksgiving, instead of the same old stuff.”
“Tell them that you’re supporting yourself by doing what you love,” London said.
“She’s right,” Samiah said, rising from the sofa and walking over to join them. “It may not be easy going right now, and you may not be satisfied at the pace that your business is growing, but it is growing. And you said it yourself, teaching phys ed to a bunch of homeschooled kids is nothing to turn your nose up at. It will pay the bills while you continue to grow your business.”
“Exactly,” London said. She pointed at the coffee table. “Now you can drink this wine to celebrate the gains you’ve made, but I’ll be damned if I let you waste another drop of this fantastic Chianti on wallowing. Hell no. This wine comes from happy grapes. It is to be used for celebration purposes only.”
The infectious grin Samiah had come to associate with her appeared on Taylor’s face. “Well, I do want more wine, so I guess we’re celebrating.”
“Now that’s what I want to hear,” London said, grabbing the bottle of wine and topping off their empty glasses. She handed them their drinks and lifted hers in the air. “To the only woman I know who can kick your ass with a smile. Your time is coming, Taylor Powell. You just make sure you’re ready to make the most of it when it does.”