Connor listened. The doctor’s update wasn’t good. He said things like “blood pressure dropping,” “prepare yourself,” and “call other family members.”
“Can I see him?” Her voice shook.
“Perhaps in a few minutes. They’re working to get his blood pressure up.”
When the doctor walked away, she sat stoically. No tears. No words. No outward emotion. But he felt it. He recalled in detail the gnawing grief that losing Adkins had brought on. “I’m sorry.”
Anger filled her blue eyes. “He’s not going to die. The doctor doesn’t know Carlos. He won’t give up.” Her intake of air sounded like pain.
Knowing there were no words to offer, he let the silence take over.
It was Brie who spoke next. “Where did they find Carlos? Do you have any leads? Why aren’t you out there looking for whoever did this?” The edge to her voice said she was close to losing it.
“Just take some breaths.” He understood exactly what she felt. The anger. The need for justice. He’d been there when he lost Adkins. For Connor, however, that justice had been swift and bittersweet. It hadn’t helped that the kid’s bullet wasn’t the one that took Adkins’s life. Fortunately, the lowlife drug dealer was caught two weeks later and now sat on death row.
Officially, what happened that night had been deemed a good shoot. The media, however, crucified Connor. He became a stain on the department. They didn’t like stains.
He pushed back the past and focused on her questions. “He was found under the bridge at Fifth Street and Chestnut. My partners are at the crime scene now.”
“Brie?”
Agent Ryan shot up. Two men, one black and one white, both in their late fifties, came striding in. While one of them walked with a slight limp, both of them were big men, who carried themselves with authority. Agent Ryan literally fell into the arms of the black man.
Connor tried to assess the relationship but couldn’t label it, though with the age difference it didn’t appear intimate.
“How is he?” the man holding her asked, as his dark eyes found Connor.
Head still on the man’s chest, Agent Ryan answered, “His blood pressure’s dropping, but he’s not going to die. He can’t!” Her tone was brittle. Forced. She looked extra small in the man’s arms. Almost fragile.
The embrace ended and in seconds Brie Ryan’s spine stiffened.
“You okay, kid?” the other man asked.
“Fine.” Her light blue eyes met his, and the brief seconds of vulnerability were gone. She looked back at the African American man. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I know someone who knows someone who has a plane.”
“You always know someone.” She half-smiled. “Thanks.” She focused on Connor. “Detective Pierce, this is Eliot Franklyn”—she motioned to the man she’d hugged—“and this is Sam Keith.”
Connor and Sam shook hands. Then Connor extended his hand to Eliot.
“A detective?” Eliot asked in lieu of shaking Connor’s hand.
Connor nodded, dropped his hand, then looked back at Brie. “Is this your backup?”
“Yes.”
“Then we should go.”
“Slow down, bucko.” Eliot held up his hand
“That’s Mr. Bucko to you,” Connor countered.
The man’s jaw clenched. “Go where?”
“To the precinct. We have some matters to discuss.”
Brie looked prepared to argue, then stopped herself.
“What matters?” Eliot barked.
“It’s okay,” Brie offered. “I confiscated a car. I just—”
“Did you return it?” Eliot directed the question to her, but his dark gaze never shifted from Connor.
“Of course.” Brie brushed a strand of hair off her cheek.
“Was it wrecked? Damaged?” A frown tightened Eliot’s lips.
“No,” she answered.
“Then what’s the problem?” The man’s tone deepened.
“She assaulted an officer,” Connor answered.
Eliot’s shoulders widened. The man was as tall and almost as thick as Connor. Not that Connor flinched. He had the guy by twenty years, but his gut said the man wouldn’t go down easy.
“I’m sure she had a good reason,” Eliot said.
Connor countered. “I think the department’s policy is that there is never a good reason for stealing a car.”
“It’s okay.” Brie put her hand on the man’s arm.
She looked back at the ICU doors. “Don’t let anyone see him alone. No one.”
“I got it,” Eliot said. “Sam, go with Brie.”
“No, I’m fine,” she said as Connor motioned for her to start walking.
Before she moved, Eliot spoke up again. “Detective.” The man looked him dead in the eyes. “Treat her with kid gloves.” His tone was more threat than suggestion.
Connor nodded curtly before he and Brie headed out.
When they got in the elevator, she asked, “Could we stop at the crime scene? I need—”
“We’re going to the station.”
“Time’s wasting,” she insisted. “First let me figure out who did this, then—”
“Sorry.” Neither of them said another word as they made their way to his car.
When they climbed into his Malibu, his phone rang. He hit the locks before grabbing his phone. Mark’s name flashed across the screen. Connor answered the call. “You at the office?” Connor cut Brie a look. She looked both pissed and exhausted.
“We just got back,” Mark said. “You get anything?”
“Yeah.”
“What?” Mark asked.
“I’ll tell you when I get there. I’m on my way.” Connor hung up, started the car, and looked at her. “So Eliot’s your stepfather?”
“No.”
“You seem close,” he said.
She stared at him. “He raised me.”
“I could tell.”
“How?” she asked.
He half-smiled. “I’ve seen that look on every father of every girl I’ve ever dated.”
“We’re dating? How did I miss that?”
“Let’s just say I know that touch-my-daughter-and-I’ll-kill-you look.”
She lifted her chin. “Thing is, Eliot means it.”
He grinned and backed out of the parking lot. “Are he and Sam ex-FBI?”
“No. Military. Special Forces.”
“I’m impressed.”
She watched him drive. “This is a waste of time. We should be trying to catch who did this to Carlos.”
“But first, we need to get the facts.”
* * *
Connor, with the evidence bag from the hospital in his hand and Agent Ryan at his side, walked into the police station and up to the front desk. Mildred, the receptionist, looked up and smiled. Her ready smile was something he looked forward to every day.
But then her gaze landed on Brie and that daily ray of sunshine faded. He remembered the two of them meeting when Ryan, aka Star, had stopped by the office. Brie hadn’t followed Mildred’s wait-here orders, and it hadn’t sat well with Mildred.
“You changed your hair,” Mildred said.
“I did,” Ryan said, her frustration visible. He reminded himself not to judge, since her partner’s life was still on the line.
“Good, you two know each other,” Connor said.
“I don’t think we were properly introduced,” Mildred said.
“Then let me fix that. Mildred Lincoln, this is Brie Ryan.”
“I thought it was Star something.”
“We all kind of thought that.” Connor saw Ryan’s lips thin. “Can she visit with you a minute?”
“Sure.” Mildred waved to the chair across from her desk.
Connor pulled the chair around and motioned for Ryan to sit. She frowned but sat. He reached back and pulled his handcuffs off his belt.
Mildred’s eyes widened.
“It’ll be fine,” Connor said.
“How is this fine?” Agent Ryan’s frown deepened. “Seriously? This is not necessary.”
“How’s the weather in Florida?” he asked.
“Florida?” Mildred pondered aloud.
Agent Ryan’s eyes tightened to slits, and all he could see was a sliver of angry blue. “And I thought I liked you.”
“He has that effect on a lot of women.” Mildred chuckled.
Connor motioned for Brie to hold out her hand. “Only for a few minutes.”
When she didn’t follow his request, he caught her hand and cuffed one of her wrists and then connected the other cuff to a drawer pull. “I need…” He paused. “I’ll be right back.”
She looked at Mildred. “Is he always a hard-ass?”
Mildred lifted a brow. “Only when provoked. Did you provoke him?”
“Yes.” Connor stared down at the blonde with a mix of emotions. He empathized with her for being worried about her fellow agent and felt equally bad about her half sister, but he needed to play this right. Which meant he needed to run everything by his partners first.
“Only to protect someone.” Brie glared up at him.
“Interesting,” Mildred said.
“What’s interesting?” Connor asked.
“Nothing.” Mildred looked at Agent Ryan. “Are you good at crossword puzzles?” She picked up the newspaper from her desk.
“Uncuff me,” Brie ordered him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Be right back.” He left the two women to work puzzles while his own mind puzzled over his growing respect and maybe even admiration for the little spitfire.
* * *
Mark and Juan looked up when Connor walked into the office. “What you got?” Mark pulled a pencil from behind his ear.
“I found Billy’s ballbuster.”
“What?” Mark asked. “You were supposed to be at the hospital.”
“I was. That’s where I found her.”
“I don’t understand,” Juan said.
“Get this. She’s FBI,” Connor said. “Her real name is Brie Ryan.”
“No shit!” Juan said.
“No shit.” Connor dropped the bag that contained Agent Olvera’s clothing and phone. “She’s been looking into the Ronan case. Alma Ronan is…was her half sister. She’s dead.”
“Why didn’t she tell us this when we met her?” Juan asked.
He shrugged. “She’s got a little issue with telling the truth. But in her defense, she probably didn’t have anything to tell then. She just got her first lead recently and that’s why Agent Olvera was here.”
“So Agent Olvera’s shooting is related to the Ronan case?”
“That’s where it gets confusing and interesting,” Connor said. He gave them the whole spiel. The two cases, Dillon Armand being the connection between the cases, and Brie’s suspicion that one of the FBI agents was behind Olvera’s attack.
“Damn.” Mark’s tone sounded amused. “So, not only are we going to be butting into the FBI’s case, we’re also going to be looking at one of them as possibly being dirty. We’re really going to chap some special agent asses.”
“Probably.” Connor rotated his shoulders.
“At least this explains how she was able to take down Billy.” Juan looked back at the door. “Where is she?”
“Cuffed to Mildred’s desk.”
Mark chuckled. “You cuffed an FBI agent to Mildred’s desk?”
“She might be a little annoyed at me right now.”
“Did she really steal the Mustang?” Mark asked.
“Confiscated it.” Connor wiped a hand over his smile. “She was following the suspect in her sister’s case.”
“How’s Olvera holding up?” Juan asked.
“Doctors aren’t hopeful. And if we are going to get to the bottom of this, we’ll need Brie Ryan’s help.” He ran a hand over his unshaven chin. “Did either of you tell Billy I’d identified the car thief?”
“No,” they both answered.
“What do you say we hold off on that and work with her on figuring out who shot Agent Olvera?”
Mark seemed to consider it. “You trust her?”
“She thinks someone with the FBI is responsible for her partner’s shooting. So I think she’ll work with us.”
“Okay,” Mark said. “But if Billy finds out, he’s your problem.”
* * *
Mildred tapped her pencil on her desk. “Hoover’s area. Three letters.”
Brie looked at the older red-haired woman and wondered about the irony. “FBI.”
“And here I was thinking about a vacuum cleaner.” Mildred wrote in the answer. “So what did Connor bring you in for?”
“It’s a mistake.” Brie tried to formulate a plan, one that included catching Carlos’s shooter and still keeping tabs on Armand, but her brain felt fried from no sleep.
“Yours or his?” The woman’s brows arched.
Brie started to lay the blame all on him, but the truth leaked out. “Both. But mostly his.” Yeah, she shouldn’t have stolen the car or hit the officer, but at the cost of losing a lead on her sister’s murder, she’d do it again. Cuffing her to a damn desk when the person who attacked Carlos was running free was too much.
“You’re honest. I like that. I say if you can’t learn from your mistakes what’s the use in making them.” Mildred paused. “Did you learn anything?”
Brie met the woman’s gaze. “What I did wrong, was for the right reason. You ever do that?”
“Maybe, but it didn’t land me in handcuffs.” She grinned. “Except that one time in the sixties.”
Brie almost smiled. “Don’t feel you have to share.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t.” Mildred laughed.
Brie decided under different circumstances, she might have liked this woman.
Right then, Brie’s phone rang. She reached for it in her purse, forgetting she was cuffed. The metal jingled, then she went for it with her left hand.
“I don’t know if you should answer.” Mildred put her hand on Brie’s purse.
“Please?” Emotion leaked into her voice. “My friend’s in the hospital. This could be about him.” When she hesitated, Brie added, “Would Detective Pierce have let me keep my purse if he didn’t want me to answer my phone?”
Mildred hesitated, then nodded. “Since you said please.”
“Thank you.” Brie pulled her phone from her bag and saw it was Eliot. Her stomach knotted, and fearing the worst, she sent up a little prayer.
“Everything okay?” Her voice rang a little too high-pitched.
“Yes,” Eliot said. “Tory just arrived, they let him go back to see Carlos. Right before he showed up, the doctor came out. He said Carlos’s blood pressure has risen. He’s stable.”
Brie’s shoulders slumped and her eyes stung with relief. “Thank God.”
“And I just hung up with the assistant to the governor.”
“About me?” she seethed.
“About them possibly arresting you. I also spoke with a buddy of mine who has connections to—”
“How many times have I told you not to interfere with my job?” Brie’s jaw clenched.
“It isn’t your job. You’re on leave. And I’m not going to stand by and see you arrested for trying to find your sister’s killer.”
“I haven’t been arrested.” Yet.
“Another buddy is putting a call into the Anniston mayor and—”
“You have to stop,” she snapped. “I’m an adult.”
“I could tell that detective was going to be a problem,” Eliot said.
Her phone dinged with a text. “Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.” He hung up.
The text was from Agent Calvin saying that he and Agents Bara and Miles had just landed. Earlier he’d said he wouldn’t be coming. Did this mean he was taking the possibility of the leak seriously?
“Everything okay?” a deep voice asked.
Targeting her frustration on the owner of that voice, she looked up. And up. The man was so tall and big he made her feel…small and something else she refused to put a name to.
“Just dandy.” She rattled her cuffs.
He pulled the key from his pocket. Leaning over, his face came within inches of hers, and she couldn’t help but stare at his five o’clock shadow, those long lashes that shouldn’t be on a man, and the emerald of his eyes.
Then she realized that she wasn’t the only one looking. Gazes locked, she shifted to reclaim her personal space.
“Let’s go talk to my partners.” He glanced at Mildred. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Mildred smiled at her, then said to Connor, “Play nice.”
“I always do,” he said.
“Please.” Rubbing her wrist, Brie moved from behind the desk.
He glanced at her hands. “I only did it because—”
“Because you’re a small-minded, presumptuous ass.” She followed him into the cramped office, which held three desks littered with dirty coffee cups, one filing cabinet, two other tough-looking detectives, and enough testosterone to blow the building.
“I think you all know each other…” Connor did a quick introduction then pulled a chair from against the wall and centered it in front of the empty desk in the room. “Have a seat.”
Brie remained standing because his order annoyed her. His attitude annoyed her. His good looks annoyed her. She nodded at the two other men, then focused on Connor. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”
His bright green eyes grew suspicious. “Offer away.”
“Before you cuff someone, check to see if they’re carrying!” She looked at the other men. “If you’ll allow me.” She reached into the waist of her jeans and pulled out her gun, keeping it pointed downward, then placed it on the desk.
She heard disguised chuckles from the two other detectives. Detective Pierce didn’t laugh. Much to her disappointment, he didn’t appear pissed off, either. She’d just have to try harder. Because yeah, right now she wanted to be a pain in his ass, like he was hers.
“Frankly, I wasn’t worried about you shooting anyone, just leaving.” He said it with such straightforwardness she almost believed him. “Now sit down so we can figure out how we can help each other.”
“You can help by letting me go.”
“And that’s our plan,” Detective Mark Sutton said, pulling her attention to him.
Had she heard that right? “I’m not being detained?”
“No,” the detective said, “but before you go, you need to fill us in on a few things.”
She looked back at Pierce. “See, he’s reasonable.”
Now Connor appeared pissed. “Just sit down.” He dropped down behind the desk.
“Maybe I want to stand.”
“Why would you want to stand?” he snapped back.
“Because I’ve been stuck in a chair, fracking cuffed to a desk!”
“Fracking?” He smiled, but it was the kind of smile meant to dig in someone’s crawl.
And consider her crawl dug into. “Excuse me. Fucking cuffed to a desk.”
He stood. “Well, maybe I would’ve trusted you if you hadn’t lied to me about being in Florida!”
“Please, I’m sure this wasn’t the first time someone lied to you.”
“You’re right. What was I thinking? I should’ve expected it from an FBI agent.”
Detective Sutton cleared his throat. Both Brie and Pierce looked at him. “How about you two schedule this little party for later. We should concentrate on the case.”