The deep, resonant sound of Britt Rollins’s voice made Julia smile. But she wiped her expression clean in the next instant.
Despite her dreaming of finding an excuse to visit Goose Island to see him again, this wasn’t a social call.
“Hello again, Sergeant Rollins!” She lifted her voice above the noise of a street sweeper as it chuffed and hissed on the road behind her. Then, she eagerly watched Britt make quick work of the expanse between BKI’s front door and the high, wrought iron gate.
He wore faded jeans, a classic black biker jacket, and his signature Marvel T-shirt. His hair was longer than she remembered. It stuck up in wavy tufts and curled around his ears like a lover's fingers. He’d let his facial hair grow too. Previously he’d sported something slightly more than a five-o’clock shadow. Now, he had a well-trimmed beard that followed the lines of his angular jaw.
It all suited him. The added hair made him look less like the boy next door and more like themannext door.
Hubba, hubba.
She’d almost convinced herself that he wasn’treallythe sexiest thing on two legs. Convinced herself that his muscles didn’treallycoil under his clothes like knotted rope. Convinced herself that his long lashes didn’treallycast sooty shadows across his cheeks.
But who was I trying to kid? All of that is true.
“I know it’s cliché.” She held out her hand for a shake after he’d stepped through the open gate. “But long time no see.”
Something skittered through those crystalline eyes of his, but it was gone so quickly that she decided she imagined it. Then she forgot everything, including her name, when his fingers slid into her grip and a frisson of…somethingtripped up her spine.
“Rafer tells me you’re here to talk about Knox.” He inclined his head toward the big, redhead in the guardhouse. “What’s my brother gone and done this time?”
“It’s a long story.” She watched him closely as she posed her next suggestion. “You guys got some of that motor oil you pass off as coffee inside?” She hitched her chin over his shoulder toward the factory. “I could use a kick. It’s already been a long morning.”
It wasn’t a lie. Her cat Binks had startled her awake at four-thirty with his repeated—and rather dramatic—attempts to bring up a furball. The racket had disturbed Gunpowder, who’d squawked his disapproval before starting in on his rendition of Tenacious D’s “Fuck Her Gently”—a holdover trick from his previous life as the office pet of a notorious weapons dealer. With the cat and the bird making noise, the two dogs had decided it was time to engage in a WWE-style smackdown ranging from the foot of her bed to the pillow she’d shoved over her head.
Needless to say, she’d given up on getting that last hour of sleep and had stumbled from under the covers to start her day. Now she felt that lost hour, and the only solution was caffeine.
Correction: more caffeine.
Of course, themainreason for her asking to go inside BKI was to get a look around. To take a peek into the faces of Britt’s coworkers. To let her gut get a feel for whether or not the Black Knights—Britt Rollins included—were hiding something.
Namely, a fugitive by the name of Randal Knox Rollins.
Britt’s gaze followed the hitch of her chin toward the imposing façade of the three-story structure. For a second, she thought he might decline to invite them in. Andthathad her FBI instincts perking up. Then he motioned for them to follow him across the grounds, and she figured his slight hesitation derived from his annoyance at being forced to talk about his ne’er-do-well brother.
She got the impression he’d lost more than a few hours of his life speaking to the authorities about Knox.
A cloud floated across the sun and had her glancing into the sky. On Goose Island, the towering skyscrapers of downtown didn’t blot out the heavens. She had no trouble seeing the bright blue of the morning was quickly turning overcast.
Some years summer clung to the city with a dogged grip, refusing to let go until well into October. Other years it surrendered as easily as the Jedi gave up after Order 66. Justpoof.Here one minute, gone the next.
“What?” she asked when Britt looked back at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
That was the thing about him. Despite his jagged forehead scar, he had an affable face. The kind of face she’d assume would be transparent, every emotion there for the world to see. But the opposite was true. Most times, she couldn’t get a bead on him.
“Just wondering how you’ve been, Agent O’Toole,” he said in that Lowcountry drawl that had her dreaming of fried okra, sweet tea, and porch swings.
Before she could answer, Dillan piped up. “And what about me, Rollins? Haven’t you been wondering howI’vebeen?”
Britt chuckled. The deep,sexysound swirled around in Julia’s ear like a warm tongue.
“Sure, Agent Douglas.” They’d made it to the front door. Britt pulled the metal slab wide. “How have you been?”
“Bored stiff,” Dillan admitted, waving for Julia to precede him over the threshold. “O’Toole and I have been on what amounts to desk duty since the McClean case. But now here we are. Our first real case brings us back to Black Knights Inc. What are the odds?”
Britt didn’t answer. He was too busy watching Julia as she brushed by him.
She wouldswearshe could feel his body heat reaching for her. Swear she could sense an invisible force pulling her toward him, like the Death Star’s tractor beam had pulled in the Millennium Falcon.
