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“Come up with it, and I’ll listen.”
Hutch frowned. “Maybe we can come up with it together.”
“We can do a lot of things together, Hutch. This isn’t one of them. I already screwed up by telling you too much. You took it all back to the Bureau. I want to punch you for that. And I want to punch myself for letting it happen.”
“I understand.” Hutch blew out a long, frustrated breath. “And I’m not sure there’s a way around your impasse. Any step you take is going to be the wrong one. It’s driving me crazy to watch. It’ll be worse if I see something I shouldn’t—and I have to report it. Which is why I think I should head back to Quantico.”
Casey gave a resigned nod. “I hear you. I don’t like it. But I hear you.”
Hutch rose and walked over to her, gently caressing her shoulders. “We really have one hell of a complicated relationship, don’t we?”
“That’s the understatement of the year.” Casey sighed. “Hope I’m worth it.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re worth it. I always did like complicated.”
Casey smiled, raising her gaze to meet his. “I’ve got some downtime right now. I was going to take a nap. But I could be persuaded to change my plans—if you’re willing to leave a little later for Virginia.”
A sexy grin curved his lips. “Virginia? Where’s that?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Unlike Fenton, Mercer was definitely not expecting the FI team.
He looked puzzled and upset when they rang his doorbell.
“Is there some emergency?” he asked. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of sweatpants and a fleece top—the expected attire of a man lounging at home at midnight. “I was just about to turn in.”
“We’re sorry to bother you, Congressman.” It was Claire who spoke up, softening the late-night intrusion. “But, yes, it is urgent that we speak to you right away. Otherwise, we never would have come by this late.”
“Okay.” Mercer opened the door and gestured for them to enter.
“Cliff? Is everything all right?” Mary Jane Mercer hurried down the stairs, wearing a lounging robe and the frightened look of a mother whose mind had immediately gone to the well-being of her children. She stopped halfway when she saw who was there. “What’s happened?” she demanded.
Marc kept his gaze fixed on the congressman. “An urgent matter. We need to talk to your husband immediately.”
“Your children are fine,” Claire clarified at once. “This has nothing to do with them.”
Mrs. Mercer visibly relaxed. “It can’t wait till morning?”
“Afraid not,” Marc said.
“It’s okay, honey.” Mercer indicated that his wife should go back upstairs. “This won’t take long. And if it concerns Amanda Gleason’s sick baby, I want to help.”
“Of course.” She turned around and retraced her steps.
“Why don’t we go into my office?” Mercer suggested. “It’s
comfortable and private.”
Nodding, the three of them followed the congressman and assembled in his spacious home office.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Cliff Mercer said to Ryan.
“We haven’t.” Ryan extended his hand. “Ryan McKay. I work for Forensic Instincts, as well.”
A nod. “Well, have a seat and tell me what this is all about. Is the baby all right?”
“He’s holding his own,” Ryan said carefully. “But it’s touch-and-go. Which means that every second counts. And that his best chance of survival is still his father.”
