* * *
Two weeks later
* * *
Kayden swore under his breath and bashed something in the engine with the wrench. Even from where I sat on an overturned crate in the machinery shed, I saw the irritation flash across his face before he bent back over the engine again.
I should probably stop watching him work, though it had become something of a habit over the past two weeks. I’d follow him out here to the machinery shed, perching somewhere out of the way, and just ... observe. The first time I’d done it, he’d glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.
“You know you don’t have to babysit me, right?” he’d said.
“I’m not babysitting. I’m appreciating.”
He’d given me one of his rare full smiles that reached his eyes, and my stomach had flipped.
The truth was, I loved watching him work. Loved the way he relaxed when he was elbow-deep in machinery, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, and the look of satisfaction on his face when he figured out a problem. He loved flying, too. We’d taken many flights together over the past two weeks as he’d shown me around Koolaroo, visiting all the outstations and a few of his favorite spots, where we’d made love out in the open or under the stars.
Kayden had purpose here. Direction. An identity that fit him like a second skin.
And I ... didn’t.
It had been two weeks since I’d handed over my badge. Fourteen days of waking up without a job, without a career, without the thing I’d worked toward since I was seventeen years old.
Ten days ago, Aria had returned to Koolaroo with Levi. This time, she’d brought a few more members of her team. They’d arrived in a heavy-lift chopper that Levi flew in like he’d been doing it his whole life. A man she’d called Blade, who was all military-focused like Mitch, had come with Aria, along with an extremely fit, blonde-haired woman named Maya.
Maya had given me a hug like we were long-separated sisters, and she’d said, “I know what it’s like to have the floor ripped out from under you. So, if you need to chat, you give me a call.”
It was impossible not to like her, and I assured her that I would call, possibly sooner than she thought.
Before I’d told Aria where we’d found the money on Koolaroo, I’d asked her for a favor. I explained about Bob returning to Koolaroo to search for the money, and how we were all worried about our safety if he did. She’d understood that theory. So I’d asked her if we could make the discovery of that money public. Maybe she could even plant the Branson family in a good light, which they bloody well needed after all the media coverage of Frank Branson since he’d been captured.
Aria had paused, mulling it over. I’d come to expect that from her. Aria didn’t do anything without serious consideration. “Okay. But if I hand this to the police press, I can’t control what they say. And can’t guarantee that the Branson siblings come out of it in a good light.” She’d tapped her phone against her thigh. “There’s a better way. I know a true-crime podcaster. Angel Mae Tomkins. Her show’s called Avenging Angel.”
“Shit. Really? A podcaster?” I groaned. “Angel who?”
“Angel Tomkins. Don’t let the name fool you. She’s the real deal.” Aria had said it with a respect that surprised me. “She chased me for two years after that Chui bastard left a trail of victims. Wouldn’t take no. And I know for a fact that she doesn’t burn a family just to get a headline.” Aria’s mouth curved in a slight grin. “I lost count of how many times I told her no. Before I gave her a shot.”
That made me sit up. Aria Morgan did not hand out respect lightly. And this woman had earned it just by refusing to go away.
“Her tagline is ‘Every victim needs an Angel,’” Aria had added. “Corny as hell. She means it, though.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Angel’s sister was killed over a decade ago and the case was never solved. But the damn journalists made her life misery. She hates journalists as much as I do.”
“Oh, poor thing. What happened to her sister?”
“I’ll let her tell you,” Aria sighed. “Anyway, Angel has a huge following. So be prepared. If she breaks this story about the money being found and handed in, and that Senior Sergeant Bob Ackerman is a corrupt cop on the run, it’ll be everywhere. But she’ll tell it straight. That’s more than the papers will give you.”
Angel sounded like a woman I’d want to know. I nodded at Aria. “She’ll be perfect.”
“Okay, then. I’ll try to minimize the circus.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. This thing’s already a circus.”
“True. Now listen,” she’d said. “Bob Ackerman is still in the wind. So even though we have control of his money, stay vigilant. Men like Bob don’t just disappear forever. When he surfaces, he’ll be desperate and dangerous.”
“I know.” I’d looked at the sprawling expanse of Koolaroo, but I was certain Bob wasn’t hiding in the bushes. He hated dirt, flies, and sweat. He was in a hotel somewhere. Planning. Waiting. “We’re careful.”
