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Jax thought that ask, the Valentine’s Day it promised, better than any rose they’d never received. “I’d love to.”
Jax counted the break at AB’s a success. Feb had left with a belly full of cannoli and her mind firing again on all cylinders, scaling back her V-day menu revisions to only a few necessary changes. Jax had left with a kiss they would have liked to enjoy again after service, but by the time they’d finished closing down the bar, Feb had already left. Adi had spied her swaying against the expeditor’s station, eyelids and shoulders drooping. She’d sent her home as soon as the last soufflé had left the kitchen. As much as Jax would’ve loved that after-work kiss, they wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it for long anyway. A text from Braxton Kane, Jax’s former boss at SFPD and Mel’s partner at Redemption Inc., had summoned them to HQ.
When they arrived, they were surprised by the person sitting with Brax at the conference table.
“Jax,” Isaiah Fletcher said as he stood and offered his hand. “It’s good to see you.” The Internal Affairs detective gave them a small smile, his usual reserved self, but Jax could read the sincerity in his bloodshot brown eyes. Some considered Fletcher cold, but he’d always been kind and patient with them, and when it had come to Brax’s kidnapping a few years back, Fletcher had done everything in his power to help bring him home. He was a good man, if a bit of a loner. “We miss you at the station.”
Jax missed the station too, but they would have missed working with Brax and his husband, Holt Madigan, more. Holt, one of Helena’s brothers, had been the first person to connect with Jax at the Madigans’ queer teen shelter. Holt had recognized their skill with a computer, had put them on the path to a computer science degree, then had mentored them in the art of hacking, something he’d excelled at in the military before joining the family business as a digital assassin.
There’d ultimately been no way to avoid the conflicts of interest between the department and the Madigans’ illegal activities. Brax, as well as Mia’s uncle—a former ATF agent who was married to Hawes, Helena’s other brother—had made the same decision. Redemption Inc. allowed Jax and Brax to settle somewhere in the middle professionally, and their organization had delivered more than a few bounties to SFPD.
“I can find excuses to come around more often,” they said to Fletcher. “Working a line on a bounty right now.”
Fletcher winced as he sank back into his chair, raking a hand through his disheveled blond hair. In fact, all of him looked uncharacteristically disheveled, from his missing tie to his wrinkled, rolled-up shirtsleeves to the mismatched socks shoved into his loafers. Granted, it was past midnight on a Friday—Saturday, technically—but Jax recalled weekend all-nighters at the station when Fletcher hadn’t looked half as roughed up as he did now.
They lowered themself into the chair on Fletcher’s other side. “What’s going on?”
“We need to talk about Jacob Pappas,” Brax said.
“Trent Mendes,” Jax corrected.
“That’s who you think he is?” Fletcher asked.
Nodding, Jax pulled their tablet from their bag and opened it on the table, bringing up the surveillance footage they’d reviewed with Mel. Two photos in, Fletcher spun and shot out of his chair. Something was definitely up. “I repeat,” Jax said, “what’s going on?”
Head bowed, Fletcher clasped his hands behind his neck. “It’s him.”
“Are you—” Brax began, only to be cut off by Fletcher’s sharp retort.
“Yes, I’m sure.” He turned and the pinch of sadness Jax had earlier felt for Feb was nothing compared to the gut punch they felt at the expression clouding Fletcher’s features. One Jax recognized all too well. The look—the feeling—of being left behind, of being unwanted. “I think I’d know my own husband.”
Jax nearly fell out of their chair. “What?” They were expecting an ex-lover, maybe. Or family. But husband? “We dug into you when Brax was blackmailed. There’s no record of you being married.”
“It was annulled.” He crossed back to the chair and lowered into it. “And you and Holt aren’t the only top-shelf hackers out there.” He pulled the tablet closer, staring longingly at the man onscreen. “Trent Mendes isn’t even his real name. That’s why he never crossed my radar. But Pappas...” He rotated away from the tablet. “It was his mother’s maiden name.”
“And your middle name?” Brax prompted.
“Jacob,” Jax answered before Fletcher could, remembering that bit of information from their prior research. “Did he want to be found?”
“That’s what I’m starting to wonder,” Fletcher said, slumping in his chair with his eyes closed. “He always was a foodie.”
“What’s his real name, Fletcher?” Brax said.
“To me, he was Leo Flores.” He propped his elbows on the table and dragged his hands over his face. “In truth...” He dropped his arms and split a glance between them. “He’s Ariel Camino.”
Jax’s gasp collided with Brax’s beleaguered groan. “The missing heir to the Camino Cartel?” he said.
“That’s the one,” Fletcher replied, expression grim.
As was Jax’s assessment of this case, which had just gotten exponentially more dangerous, especially for the woman they were falling for.
FOUR
“We’re the lead in Eater’s not-to-miss Valentine’s post.”
Spinning toward Lacey’s excited voice, Feb nearly spilled the salmoriglio sauce she’d been perfecting with Juan. “You’re joking.”
Bricks of butter in one arm, Lacey lifted her phone with the other, screen facing out, the familiar red and white Eater banner visible. “Not a joke. One of their bloggers was here Friday.”
