“Anya? You sound, um, funny,” Agent Reese said, his words slurred. “You been takin’ testosterone?”
Anya’s mouth dropped open. “Are you drunk?”
“Yeppers.” Reese snorted. “I loved her, you know. Loved Loretta. Pretty Loretta. She’s gone.”
Anya coughed. The man had definitely loved her sister, and Loretta had felt the same way. Her heart ached for them both. For what they might have had . . . for what they could’ve created together. It was all lost. Tears filled her eyes. “Where are you?”
Reese sighed. “I don’t know. In my car outside the Red Bonnet Bar. I guess I do know. Loretta and I used to drink here sometimes and hash out cases.” He belched, his tone low. Angry and beyond sad. Maybe desolate. “You know. We worked together.”
Heath shook his head, glaring at the phone still in his hand. “Did you just call from a different phone?”
Anya gasped. That had not been Reese. She’d bet her life on it.
Reese snorted. “Called who?”
Heath drew in air, obviously trying to hold on to his patience. “Did you just call Anya from a different phone?”
“Nope. Only have one phone. How many phones you got, Heath?” Reese went into a coughing fit.
Heath pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t drive like that.”
“Who cares? You know? At this point, who really cares?” Reese sighed, his tone hollow. “She’s, uh, she’s gone. All gone.” His slurred voice broke. “She loved you, Anya. So much. Was so proud of her baby sister.”
Tears welled in Anya’s eyes. “We’ll come and get you, Reese. Just stay warm in your car, and we’ll be right there.” She ignored Heath’s harsh look.
“Hold tight,” Heath said into the phone. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Reese sounded drowsy this time. “I’ll hold tight. Nothin’ else to do anyway.” He clicked off.
Heath slipped the phone into his jeans pocket. “Anya, go back to bed. Denver, stay on guard. I’ll be back after I take care of the agent.”
“No.” Anya grabbed his arm, her mind spinning. “I want to go with you.”
Heath looked down at her. “No way. You stay here and stay safe.”
“No.” She wanted to stomp her foot . . . right on the flat of his damn boot. “I told Reese I’d come, and he needs help. I can help him.” Anya tugged on Heath’s muscled arm.
Heath frowned. “You are not going.”
Denver sighed. “I’ll go.”
The phone rang again. With a snarl, Heath jerked it free of his pants, looked at the screen, and pressed the speaker button again. “What is it, Reese?” he barked.
“Um, hi. This is Special Agent Dingman. I have his phone.” Her voice was quiet through the speaker.
Heath’s shoulders settled. “I take it you found Reese?”
“Yeah. He called earlier waxing poetic about love. I tracked him to the bar,” Dingman said. “Thought I’d let you know he’s safe. I’m sorry he bothered Anya. He was very much in love with her sister.”
“Make sure he gets home,” Heath ordered.
“No kidding, buddy. Anya, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Dingman said, clicking off.
Heath shoved the phone back into his pocket, his movements smooth and a little too controlled. “We need to return to the chain of command here, Anya. Get in line, or I promise I’ll lock you down thousands of miles from here.”
Her head snapped up. Awareness lit her skin. Anger and an odd intrigue rushed through her to steal her breath. “Knock it off, Heath. I’m not in the mood.”
With no warming, he moved against her, his shoulder to her stomach. She flopped over and instantly kicked out. Her body jolted, and blood rushed through her head. She kicked again, heat washing through her. Hard. He manacled her legs and all but jogged through the office and up the stairs to the apartment.
