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Federal Agent Amelia Rossi’s eyes darted to mine. “Mr. Flynn—I’m here to bring you in for questioning.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Do you want to be?”
Rossi was typically more poised than this. The proximity of her estranged uncle must have thrown her off her game.
She cleared her throat. “We’d like to question you in a matter of national security.”
She was lying. I had no idea what Agent Rossi wanted to discuss, but it wasn’t a matter of national fucking security.
“Give me a moment.”
A flicker of surprise moved across her face. She hadn’t expected her request to go unchallenged. Lucky for her, I was done with the fucking Russians for today.
She recovered quickly. “We’ll be out front.” Then she left without a glance at her kin.
I gave instructions to my men, retrieved my Glock and cell phone, and hustled to the parking lot. The faster I dealt with this ruse, the sooner I’d be home with Willa.
My feet hit the pavement, but my legs were suddenly reluctant to move.
Willa.
I replayed the final surveillance images in my mind. The plait. The runners.
Molotov’s mention of his departed enforcer.
The front passenger window of the awaiting dark SUV lowered. Agent Rossi stuck her head out. “Lucifer.” She nearly choked on my name.
I whipped my phone from my pocket, but then remembered it was still off. I powered it on. It shook in my grip. It was taking too fucking long.
“Get in the car, Lucifer. We can get you there faster—legally—in one piece.”
I didn’t know where there was or that I wanted an FBI escort when I found the fuck out. But my options were limited.
The lights and sirens of Rossi’s vehicle blared. I climbed into the backseat just as her partner, Agent Stoll, peeled out of the parking lot.
Amelia spun to face me. “If we’re lucky, what I’ve done will buy you some time before your enemies find out that you’re vulnerable. Not to capitalize on your pain, but I hope you’ll see this as a show of good faith. As I’ve said before, we want you to work with us.”
Vulnerable.
Pain.
My hands curled into fists. “Tell. Me. What. The. Fuck is going on.”
Amelia gripped the back of her seat. “There’s been an accident ...”
Willa
Lucifer’s Range Rover turned right at the end of the driveway. Then it disappeared behind the stone wall that edged the Flynn property.
Flynn.
My forehead landed against the parlor window, and my breath cast a fog over the chilled glass.
I was a Flynn now.
Willa Flynn.
