“I’m Special Agent JD Maddox.” The younger of the two strangers thrust out his hand. “This is my partner, Special Agent Ryan Keplar.”
“Nice place y’all have here,” Keplar said as he glanced around the land of whiteboards, file cabinets, and coffee mugs. “Ours down in South Carolina doesn’t hold a candle. The toilets back up when it floods, and we don’t have these pretty floor-to-ceiling windows.”
His words sounded complimentary. But Julia didn’t miss the condescension in his tone.
Keplar was the kind of guy who thought ear protection at the shooting range made agents soft. The kind of guy who still used investigative techniques based on stereotypes. The kind of guy who carried a revolver instead of an automatic because he believed revolvers were more reliable—cocky enough to think he only needed six rounds to hit his target.
She tried not to make snap judgments about people—although being able to size someone up in under thirty seconds was one of the reasons she’d been promoted to lead agent—but she couldn’t help deciding then and there that she didn’t much care for Special Agent Ryan Keplar.
In contrast, Agent Maddox seemed genuinely cordial when he brushed off his partner’s words by chuckling. “We might have floor-to-ceiling windows if we had a view like this.” He pointed to the skyline, which was particularly powerful-looking because it was silhouetted by the setting sun.
Even without having been given their names, she would’ve recognized both men from their voices alone. Maddox had a smooth tenor, and Keplar had an inflection that said he might live and work in Charleston now, but he’d been born and raised in a state much farther south.
Alabama maybe? Mississippi?
After shaking hands with both men, she turned to find Dillan looking happy enough to levitate. She frowned at her partner. “What’s with your face?”
He rubbed his hands together. “We might get to join the hunt for a fugitive after all. I assume that’s what’s brought you guys here despite the two of us”—he wagged a thumb back and forth between himself and Julia—"coming up empty-handed this morning. You’re convinced Knox Rollins is in town?”
“WeknowKnox Rollins is in town,” Keplar declared. “We saw him plain as day on that footage you sent us.”
Julia’s stomach hollowed out at the news. “Knox showed up after we left this morning?”
She hated that Britt hadn’t called them like he said he would. Hated it more that she cared at all because sheshouldn’t. Sergeant Britt Rollins was nothing to her.
Nothing but a delicious fantasy that’ll never come true.
“Nope.” Keplar shook his head. The overhead lights glinted off the sheen of his bald spots. “Arrived at Black Knights Inc. about five minutes before y’all did.” He inclined his chin toward Julia and Dillan. “He was inside when you were questioning his brother.”
Three things happened then.
Julia felt the blood drain from her head. Her entire body flashed hot and cold. And her vision turned black around the edges—a sure sign her anger was getting the best of her.
Britt Rollins had lied right to her face—which would not have been unforgivable in and of itself. When confronted by an authority figure, it was human nature to conceal the worst of oneself or put forth the best of oneself. She was used to people stretching the truth when she questioned them.
But what she found unforgivable—and what had her teeth grinding so hard she could hear her enamel complaining—was that he’dthengone andkissedher. Kissed her like she’d never been kissed before and like she worried she’d never be kissed again. And for what?
To add insult to injury?
To prove to her just how much she’d let her lust for him override her ability to identify bullshit when she smelled it?
To distract her from the fact that his brother was hiding somewhere under his roof?
The rat bastard!
10
Black Knights Inc.
Britt loaded Haint’s saddlebags and checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes.
What the hell is taking so long?
It was a long ride up to Traverse City, Michigan. It would be even longer because they were journeying on the backroads in the dark. And every minute they remained at BKI was one more minute that he made his friends and teammates complicit in his endeavors.
He wanted to be hell and gone like…yesterday. But they’d decided to wait until after dark to make their move. There were fewer cars on the roads after dark, which meant fewer chances for accidents that would require the cops to arrive on the scene. It also meant fewer folks awake to make note of two whimsical motorcycles riding down the road.
In his line of work, darkness was always preferential to daylight. And when it came to spiriting an ex-con across state lines and up the entire east coast of Michigan, darkness wasn’t just preferred; it was required.
