An engine, powerful and unmistakable, roared in the distance. All three of us looked over to see a red R-34 pull onto the street, parking just a few feet away. The driver cut the headlights, leaving the engine running, a low, dangerous purr.
“Guess your bed isn’t warm anymore, Chief,” I noted, trying not to smile. I’d heard a rumor from Grayson that Leon always followed her on her nighttime callouts.
She sighed and shook her head at the car. “I’m gonna kill him too.”
“Too?” Jake parroted as she turned back to her vehicle. “What the hell do you mean by too?”
She shook her head. “He’s always on my list.”
“How romantic,” I muttered.
“But you two, as of half an hour ago, are at the top of it. Follow me to the station, or I’ll put a warrant out for your arrest.” She got back into her SUV. When she turned onto a different street, Leon’s car pulled out, slowly trailing behind. Though the tint on his windows was too dark to allow me to see him, I could feel him looking at us. I also had the feeling the smug street racer was laughing.
“Well, looks like we aren’t getting home for breakfast,” Jake sighed, climbing into the car.
I took my spot in the passenger seat. “You’re always so fucking hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy, you pissant.”
“You going to drive or what?” I clipped, tired. I wanted to get back to the other side of the country. I wanted to check in on Angel. I wanted to lay eyes on her, see her gentle smile, and feel the warmth of her radiance. I didn’t want to be here anymore. The hunt was done and the client had paid us, but now, the legal shit was weaving a web I had no intention of being caught in.
Once we were headed to the station, I could feel something shift between Murphy and me, the air around us filling with thick silence. I ran a hand through my hair and looked out the window, studying the Gateway Arch.
“What is it, Jake?” I asked, my voice low.
“She’s all right,” he said, answering the one question that had been running through my mind since the second I left her. He parked in front of the station, and I heard him turn in his seat.
Slowly, I looked over at him. The jokes were gone and the job was done. Now something more detrimental was in my path. “You checked on her?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“But I knew you needed me to.”
I swallowed. “Why you?”
He sighed deeply and started pulling his hair back into a bun. “Because I’m not going to judge you for loving someone you can’t have.”
I flinched, and before I could find the courage to say something back, he was already out of the car.
“Pennick is going to be transferred to Washington in the coming weeks. Maybe sooner if his lawyer can have a deal arranged,” Amara said, taking a seat behind her desk.
Jake and I had just taken our seats, settling in for a debrief that would likely last until sunrise. Amara had put a pot of coffee on, and it was just starting to brew, the rich scent reminding me of Rossy’s when there was a gentle knock on the door. Her eyes flicked up from the file her deputy had handed her on the way in and her pupils dilated slightly. “Told you to go back home.”
“In a minute, Butterfly,” Leon replied smoothly.
Jake and I looked over our shoulders at him.
Leon Torrance was one of the leaders of Oasis, an underground street racing hub that partnered with the mafia to move product. Amara was aware of this, and because of themafia’s cooperation with the FBI, there was nothing she needed to do on her side. She loved Leon, and he loved her more than air. He came to stand behind her, assessing us, taking in our facial expressions and body language.
“Boys,” he greeted.
“Leon,” Jake and I replied.
He looked down at the file in his wife’s hands. “This…Pennick. Is he going to be any more trouble?”
The underlying question:Does Oasis need to get involved?
