Rutherford shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll use it for something else.”
Wolfe snorted, his bourbon-colored eyes piercing. “Right. Like you could talk anybody else into working in this crappy dump.”
A tech with a box moved toward the hub, and Wolfe stiffened, lowering his chin. The guy stopped cold and looked toward Rutherford for help.
Nari cleared her throat. There had to be a way to get through this without anybody being punched in the face. “Everyone relax.” What the heck were they thinking, just showing up in the midst of a volatile bunch of armed alpha males?
Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to scan an email telling her to report to headquarters in an hour. Her stomach dropped.
Fields cleared his throat, his gaze on Roscoe. “It’s done, Agent Zhang. The deal was for a year.” He turned and faced Angus across the bullpen. “In one year you haven’t found one iota of proof to show that Henry Wayne Lassiter is alive, because he isn’t. It’s a fact, and it’s time to move on.”
“A body was found last night,” Angus retorted, his thick, dark hair mussed and his deep, green eyes glittering. “Most of the scene was a flashback to Lassiter’s work.”
Finally, Rutherford let a small smile lift the corner of his lip. “The Metro police have a guy in custody for last night’s crime. Ex-boyfriend of the victim who thought that copying a serial killer would lead police in the wrong direction.”
“I want to talk to him,” Angus said, pushing away from the doorframe.
“You no longer work for the HDD,” Rutherford returned. “Or the FBI. Or anybody, to be honest. Go back to your cabin in the Kentucky woods with your mentally challenged canine.”
The temperature in the entire bullpen rose. Fast and hot.
Nari stepped closer to Roscoe and patted his head. He dropped his butt and sat, staring intently at the agents. “Insulting the dog is a big mistake, Agent,” she murmured. Oh, the dog didn’t understand, but Angus was two seconds from going for Rutherford’s throat, and he could probably get across the room in a heartbeat.
Roscoe snarled.
Maybe he did understand. Nari dug her fingers into his fur to calm him. He was probably picking up on the high tension level in the room.
Fields motioned for the techs to get to work. “We should be done within a couple of hours.”
“No.” Angus’s chin had the look of solid rock, and he strode toward the bullpen. “If you’re kicking us out, that’s fine. We’ll go through our files and personal items and box everything up on our own.”
Rutherford shook his head. “You know that’s not how this works. Everything here is owned by the HDD and we’ll break it down.”
“I. Said. No.” Angus stepped up to within a foot of the agents and crossed his arms.
In a movement that was as uniform as a choreographed dance, Wolfe, Malcolm, and Raider pushed away from their desks and fanned out behind Angus, big and strong. A solid wall of muscle and determination, all masking the surprise they must be feeling.
Brigid and Dana quietly disappeared back into the computer room, no doubt to start transferring files while they had the chance.
Nari stood in her doorway, her hand on the dog’s head, watching the showdown. She could fight as well, if not better, than most agents, but which of them would she fight? The HDD had the law on their side, but the Deep Ops team had rights as well. In their own minds anyway.
The elevator hitched and burped, opening again with an even higher pitch. Dr. Jethro Hanson strode out, limping only slightly. He paused and took in the scene, his gaze landing on Angus. “Got your message, mate. Lassiter is alive?”
“No,” Agent Rutherford bit out. “Not alive.” He didn’t turn to look at Jethro, but instead kept his gaze directed at Angus. “This department of the HDD is shut down, Professor. You can go back to your ivory tower and your new life away from danger. Godspeed.”
One of Jethro’s brown eyebrows lifted. “I see.” The professor was in black slacks and a button-down shirt, with his dark blond hair ruffled by the rain. “Why do I feel like I’ve been pulled intoWest Side Story?”
Nari bit back a laugh. Why did sarcasm sound so much better in a British accent? “The Sharks and the Jets are about to stand down. All of them.” If she didn’t take control of the situation, blows would soon be thrown. “I don’t have bail money for anybody, so here’s what’s going to happen.”
She waited for everyone’s attention to turn to her before continuing. “Agents Rutherford and Fields, you will take your workers back to headquarters while leaving the boxes. We will box up anything that belongs to HDD and just take our personal items home. In the meantime, because I’ve been ordered to headquarters today, I’m going to meet with my superiors and try to get an extension on that year. Or perhaps find another deal.”
Angus’s chin lifted. “Deal?”
She swallowed. “The Lassiter case is finished, Angus. He’s dead. However, this team has prevented bombings, taken down part of the Mob, solved murders, and destroyed a heroin pipeline. We might be unconventional, but we’ve done our jobs, and the team should be able to continue its good work.”
“‘Unconventional’ is an understatement,” Fields said, reaching in his pocket for another cough drop. He slowly unwrapped it, taking in the situation. “You do understand that we could have SWAT teams here in a second to clear you out?”
Raider cocked his head, his black eyes confident. “Sure. We could also have every news outlet in the DC area here just as fast. Think of the footage they’d get.”
