Page 83 of Destroyed With You

I’m curious enough to ask what he means, but that’s when Seagrave says, “I have an update.”

He wheels closer to the conference table and puts down his phone. I glance at Winston, and we both take a seat.

Immediately, Seagrave turns to look at me, his gold-flecked brown eyes and graying temples that give him an air of authority. “Linda,” he says. “I’m sorry about Collins, but deeply relieved that you are not what we believed.”

I nod, fighting the urge to reach for Winston’s hand. This is a professional debriefing. Not a wake, after all.

“Obviously, you—and the rest of you—have personal knowledge or have been briefed on the situation. Though it gives me no pleasure, I’m sorry to report that we have confirmation beyond the material in that vault that Dustin Collins was intimately involved in a number of foreign and domestic criminal operations. He’s in custody now, and we expect to find more evidence in the coming days, beyond what the team already recovered from his home.”

My mouth is dry, and despite my attempt at professionalism, I sag with relief when Winston reaches out to close his hand over mine.

“And Hawthorne?” I ask.

Seagrave’s face hardens, the sympathy fading. “We have no sign of him. It’s possible Collins was able to send him some sort of last minute signal, warning him to stay away from his home and boat.”

“So he’s in the wind,” Ryan says.

“Our best operatives in the Chicago area are on it. We’ll find him.” He holds out his hands. “That’s all we have at the moment. Linda, considering your knowledge of both men, I’d like you to come to the SOC tomorrow for an interview.”

“Of course.”

“Also, I’m sure you’re aware that the SOC has watched you for some time. Granted through the wrong lens, but either way, we can’t deny the extent of your skills. I know you must be feeling dislocated, and I hope it eases you somewhat to know that you have an offer to join the SOC if and when you want the position.”

“Oh.”

I glance at Winston, who’s looking not at me, but at Ryan.

Seagrave laughs, and I think I’m the last to get with the conversation when he says, “Then again, you may have competing offers.”

I look toward Ryan, then Damien. Both men smile. Beside me, Winston squeezes my hand. “Thank you. It’s a lot to consider.” I turn to smile at Winston. “But I will consider it.”

The meeting wraps up quickly after that, and Winston and I ask Renly and Emma if they want to come by Winston’s house for a quick drink and a recap of the whole story in which they’d both played key roles.

Renly looks like he’s going to decline, but then he shrugs and accepts. I turn around, then smile when I realize that Abby’s gone. But I feel no guilt. I’m sure they can get reacquainted later. As for Emma, it turns out that Tony is with some friends until the evening, and she’s all in.

We came in Old Blue, Winston’s battered pickup truck that I both love and remember from Texas. We head back first, and Winston parks in the drive instead of the garage so that it’s easier to see which house is his.

We order in, and soon the four of us are laughing over delivered quiches, fruit salad, and mimosas made from the juice and champagne in Winston’s refrigerator.

“I’m impressed you have this,” I tell him.

“The champagne’s leftover from Christmas,” he tells me. “Consider it well-aged. And as for the orange juice, I’d just gone grocery shopping before I was shipped off to Texas to reunite with my wife.”

“Reunite,” Emma says. “I like that. Much better than hunt her down.”

I scowl. “Do you want a mimosa or not?”

“Yes, please. I’ll be good.”

I pour, then pass it to her. “Why do I doubt that?”

She meets Winston’s eyes. “It’s like she knows me…”

We all laugh, and Emma turns her attention to Renly. “So?”

His eyes widen as he looks at all of us. “I need a little bit more to go on.”

“Abby,” Emma says. “What’s the story?”