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“Yours.” He paints my lips with the remains of my orgasm, and I lick it off and smile at him as he watches. I know he loves that. We clean up with whatever paper towels we can find in the office as a car peels into the parking lot.

“Go,” Sal says. I kiss him quickly and re-enter the room.

“Look alive, everyone. It’s show time.” Brick and Becca smile at me, and I try to fix my hair.

There’s a slam of a car door, some aggressive gravel crunching and some window rattling. I stand, waiting to greet our guest.

In a rush, FBI agent Mark Rance comes barreling through the door. His high and tight sandy blonde hair and sterling blue eyes shine at us with a pissed off glare. He seems more bulked up than the last time I saw him almost a year ago. He didn’t come to Sal’s funeral but sent flowers and one of his favorite cigars in case I missed the smell.

The men spent almost five years bottled up together, other than me and Lou, there’s no one on the earth who knew Sal better Sal was the key to taking down a significant amount of gang activity, illegal trade, guns, human trafficking, stolen electronics, drugs, and other nastiness that the FBI benefitted from while Mark stayed undercover at his side. Sal pulled out of illegal and illicit activities while taking down the others, which makes him the ultimate asset. It’s why my husband will never spend a day in jail.

Mark has hunted our Big Bad, Phil Cady, for almost ten years now. Brick gave him chunks of information that got him closer to this untouchable man who has fucked with our lives long enough. He’s disappeared back to Europe again, but Enzo is doing his bidding here.

Mark knocks furniture out of the way to get to me. “What the fuck is going on, Poppy? And where the fuck have you been since you left New Orleans?” My jaw drops. “Tattoo parlor facial recognition.”

“Apparently, getting a tattoo was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” I put my arms out, and he steps into them. There’s a strong hug from the man who has kept us all safe these last couple of years. He recently joined an alliance task force with the CIA for Cady.

“Are you ok? I’m so sorry about…” His voice is breaking a little.

“Shh. It’s ok.” He shakes his head, and this pillar of goodness rises up in front of us. He looks over to Brick and Becca.

“This is a strategic group. Should I be worried? Why the summons? I assumed your little performance for David and your mom was for me.”

“You tapped my mom’s phone?” He cants his head and raises an eyebrow.

Becca adds, “It’s not all nefarious business all the time.”

He grins. “Gotcha. But this is.” He turns to Brick. “Good to see you.” He shakes Brick’s hand, and the two of them nod to each other the way manly men do. They worked together in the past and Brick trusts Mark the way the rest of us do. He knows all our skeletons.

“What the fuck are you into? And you’re lucky I wasn’t in France. I got a lead on something large that might lead me back to Cady and we can’t quite figure out where the fuck he is. We have a case, both domestically and internationally. We can charge him if we can fucking find him.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s bring him to us,” I say.

Mark stomps. “Absolutely not. Fuck no. That man will come back from the grave and beat me senseless if I make you bait. I can’t do that to Sal.”

I hold my heart. “Hear me out. I’m sure you know I was invited to the LA Food and Wine Invitational.”

“I didn’t because I stopped reading your email when you stopped using it. Although Mel probably knows, and it will be in her next report.”

“Fair. Hungry? Let me fix you a plate.” We all sit as I scoop some dirty rice and gumbo into a bowl. Then grab him a plate for greens, pork chops, and some biscuits and honey spread. I put it down then find him a clean napkin and wipe down the table. Leaving the oyster shells so Sal can hear.

Mark digs in and we chat about the state of the world. Brick is slapping his knee as Mark recounts sitting in a Paris boutique pretending he was shopping for hours when he heard Cady’s missing wife stops at this high end store.

“Yes, I cross-dressed all for the sake of justice and it did nothing. Although some of those dresses, mostly the ones with pockets, are damn comfortable. And the sales girl was the only thing I got out of the day. The missing wife didn’t show.”

“No, sir, you did not.” We howl again at his stories but there’s still the undercurrent of tension and danger we have to address.

He puts his hand up, “100%. First time I got laid in way too long, and she stole not only my wallet but one of my dummy passports and pants.”

Becca asks, “What did you do?”

“I could have had her picked up by Interpol, but instead I walked calmly through the lobby in my boxers and directly to a safe house. Where I was immediately dubbed, Jockey Shorts by my team.”

The shadow falls over us, and his voice drops a little when our laughter dies down. “What’s your plan?”

Brick frowns, but Mark puts up a finger to stop us from talking yet.

“Before we proceed, know Cady’s making moves. His shell corporations are being folded, and he’s putting quite a lot of pressure on Washington to overturn his old charges that keep him on the run in Europe. He wants those government rail contracts. He’s got a senator in his pocket who will take a transcontinental bullet train bill to the floor soon.”