His family was spread out across the country from coast to coast. While his parents split their time between Canada and traveling all over the US, fully enjoying their retirement, they popped in throughout the year to visit their children and grandchildren.
Bryson had explained that after seeing how difficult it was for his family when he’d been shot during his last Justice Keepers assignment, he’d made Mason promise not to tell them if he got hurt again. That was why they hadn’t been at the hospital. While she couldn’t fathom not keeping her family informed about something like that, she respected his decision.
But in spite of the many new details that she’d learned about him, she realized she’d already known everything that really mattered. He was smart, loyal, considerate, and a million other wonderful things rolled up in an incredibly mouthwatering package that she wanted to devour.
Except that she couldn’t. Not yet.
It was torture not being able to move their relationship forward the way she wanted to. But he couldn’t stand the way the pain pills made it hard to focus and concentrate on the investigation, so he’d all but stopped taking them. And thatmeant he was hobbling around on an aching hip again in the mornings, stuck using the wheelchair most afternoons. Her heart ached for him as she watched him limping across the family room right now with the aid of his cane, smiling at her and pretending he wasn’t in pain. But the small white lines around his mouth weren’t something he could hide.
“Ready?” He paused by the front door where she’d been waiting for him.
“Ready.” She took his cane so he could grab his suit jacket from the hall tree and shrug into it.
She picked up her purse and let him open the door. It seemed to matter to him to open doors for her, so she’d stopped trying to run ahead or open them herself. As they crossed the front porch, she asked, “You really think a brainstorming session with the Justice Seekers is going to crack the case open?”
“We have to try something new to shake things loose. Plus Bishop texted me that he’s back from interviewing Leviathan Finney and wants to talk about what he found. He’ll meet us at Camelot.”
“First of all, I forget, who’s Bishop? Second, he interviewed the Kentucky Ripper in prison?”
He stopped on the walkway at the end of the porch. “Gage Bishop. He’s one of the Justice Seekers, the first one Mason hired when he created the company. Everything I know about him would fill about a third of a sheet of paper. He keeps to himself, doesn’t socialize with the others outside of work. Mason’s the only one who knows whatever traumatic event ended his law enforcement career before he started over as a Justice Seeker.”
He limped down the path again, toward the driveway.
“I’m confused. Traumatic event? I thought you didn’t know anything about him.”
He stopped again, leaning heavily on his cane. “I assumed if Mason was impressed enough to give you carte blanche with a company credit card after I was discharged from the hospital that he would have confided in you. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what? I’m lost.”
“The Justice Seekers. The whole reason the company was formed was to give a second chance to people who’d had their law enforcement careers destroyed through no fault of their own. It’s a second chance for all of us.”
“I had no idea. But I guess it makes sense. You felt you’d failed as a special agent—”
“I did.”
“No. You didn’t. But I understand now why you became a Justice Seeker. After you quit the FBI, you felt you had something to prove. And Mason gave you that chance.”
“Not that I’ve done much with that second chance. He probably regrets hiring me.”
They’d started down the path again, but she moved in front of him, blocking his way. “Don’t you dare talk like that. I’d have been killed half a dozen times by now if it wasn’t for you. I’m not going to listen to any more self-recriminations. You’re an amazing guy with fantastic instincts. It’s time you gave yourself some credit.”
His jaw tightened, telling her he didn’t agree. But to his credit, he didn’t argue.
She stepped aside and followed him toward the driveway where she’d backed his metallic-blue Ford pickup out of the garage in preparation for the drive into town. It was decked out, with all the options. It wasn’t the red convertible she’d pictured him driving. But Hot Guy in a pickup revved her engines even more than she’d thought possible.
A luxury car, like the rental he’d had in Jacksonville, would have been much easier on his hip. But the car that he’d owned, aclassic older car he’d planned on restoring, had been totaled that day he’d been shot trying to save Hayley from a kidnapper. So it was either take his truck or hire another rental. She wished he’d opt for the rental because she knew it would be easier for him to climb in and out, and the bumps in the road wouldn’t hurt so much in a car. But she also knew he was a proud man and didn’t want to look weak in front of the team. To him, renting a car to drive when he had a perfectly good truck in his garage would be a neon sign that he wasn’t okay.
At least he was letting her drive. That was the one concession he’d made. She was pretty sure he was relieved when she’d asked, even though he pretended to debate her question. Her insistence that she loved trucks and wanted to drive this one, which was certainly true, wasn’t completely accurate since her main reason to drive was to help him save face. It was obviously much more comfortable to be a passenger than to pump his foot on the pedals.
Twenty minutes later they were at The Justice Seekers’ headquarters, an enormous two-story modern-day castle that fully lived up to its nickname of Camelot. Even though she’d been here once before when she’d met with Mason Ford about hiring Bryson, she was still in awe. Especially when Bryson took her into a secret passage to a room few clients ever got to see, a truly medieval looking meeting room with an enormous round table in the middle. It had been dubbed the Great Hall. It was a much bigger version of Bryson’s so-called office at his house. And judging by the enormous monitors forming a semicircle a short distance from the table, this Great Hall had all the technological gadgets that Bryson’s did, maybe more.
“Welcome to Camelot,” he whispered in her ear as they stood off to one side, just past the secret passage they’d walked through. “What do you think of Mason’s pride and joy?”
“Stunning. A bit overwhelming, really. But supercool.” She waved toward the round table, where three other people were seated. “Are those Justice Seekers?” At his nod, she said, “I thought they were in Jacksonville.”
“Five of them are. The rest were working cases here and couldn’t leave right away. There’s one more Seeker we’re waiting on before we start. When fully staffed, there are twelve of us, plus Mason, our fearless leader.”
“Fully staffed?”
