My pulse quickened, irritation and curiosity doing that stupid tug-of-war thing in my chest again. Sebastian was annoyingly good at knowing exactly what to say to keep me hanging on long past common sense.
I didn’t want to get into that car. Didn’t want whatever truth he was holding back. Marco was supposed to be the one uncomplicated thing I’d ever picked. Well, okay, maybe not uncomplicated, but uncomplicated enough. Safe-ish. Reliable-ish. Someone whose secrets didn’t outweigh their sincerity.
But the fact was, if I walked away now, whatever he was about to tell me would follow.
I sighed, mentally preparing myself for regret. Because apparently, no matter how many times I learned this lesson, I still couldn’t help but touch the flame, even knowing I’d get burned.
So, against every screaming instinct, every ounce of better judgment ...
I got in the car.
CHAPTER 39
MARCO
The precinct was exactly as I remembered it. I’d been here enough times—not on this side of the law, typically, but that line had blurred a long time ago.
The deputy at the front gave me a tired nod, waving me back without bothering to check my ID. He’d seen enough men in expensive suits after hours to know asking questions wasn’t wise.
I slipped through the familiar hallways toward the interrogation rooms, already braced for Sebastian’s cocky smirk, his hostility. But when I swung open the last door on the left, it wasn’t Sebastian sitting there. It was James Callahan, leaning back in the steel chair with his sleeves rolled up, looking like he’d been here too long already. He glanced up as I walked in.
“Marco,” James said, straightening slowly. His voice was smooth—nothing like his brother’s smugness. “Long time.”
I leaned against the closed door, crossing my arms loosely. He’d never crossed fully into our world, but he understood it too well to be comfortable. Too well to sleep easy at night.
“You’re not who I was expecting,” I admitted evenly.
James smiled. “You were expecting Sebastian. Sorry to disappoint. You missed him by ten minutes.”
I bit back a curse, irritation tightening my jaw. Perfect. Of course Sebastian was gone. Not that I’d expected him to wait around politely. But now he had a head start, and with him, that was never a good thing.
I shifted, running a hand absently through my hair, trying not to look too obvious.
But fuck, this situation was already starting to grate, and James’s glare wasn’t helping. He always looked at me like he was five steps ahead, waiting for the rest to catch up.
He watched me carefully, noticing everything but saying nothing. He was the kind of guy who could read a room faster than most men could blink.
Special Agent James Callahan. The bureau’s golden boy, with his photographic memory and profiler’s instinct. Hell, it had taken him less than twenty-four hours to connect me and Sebastian a few years back, all from a single grainy photo in a pile of Special Forces paperwork. It had been enough for him to remember my face permanently. Enough to make me wary ever since.
Now he was standing here with his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. His FBI credentials hung subtly from the waistband of his dark slacks, next to a standard-issue glock.
“You look a little tense,” James remarked. “Sebastian being out got you worried?”
“No,” I muttered, keeping my voice dry, but I shifted my weight again without thinking, the nervous habit betraying me.Fuck.I was off my game, and James wasn’t the type to miss details like that.
“Interesting. Usually, Sebastian’s release wouldn’t be something you’d sweat.”
I fought the urge to grit my teeth. “You profiling me now, James?”
He gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head slowly. “Old habits die hard. But I’m serious. Sebastian left here with a very specific agenda. Whatever your business was with him, he hasn’t let it go.”
“He’ll get bored,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. Sebastian didn’t get bored. Sebastian got even. He was the type to hold onto grudges with a white-knuckle grip, until everyone around him felt the burn.
James seemed to read every thought, every doubt playing behind my eyes. His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly cataloguing the way I shifted my weight again; the way my fingers tapped against my forearm in quiet irritation. The guy had an unnerving ability to strip people bare without ever saying a word.
“Look,” he said finally, lowering his voice just enough to imply the seriousness he didn’t need to spell out, “I’m not here because I want to babysit my brother. I’ve got cases piling up in DC and bosses wondering why I’ve taken leave at a moment’s notice. But Sebastian’s ...” He paused briefly, choosing his words carefully. “Complicated. And the minute I heard he was locked up down here, I knew you’d be involved, one way or another. You always are when it comes to him.”
“Not involved,” I corrected, shaking my head slightly. “Not this time.”
