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One by one, the team arrived, punching the key code into the Hirsch pad that allowed them entry. Inside, they each went to their work space, gathered up the necessary materials, and headed to the first-floor meeting room—the small, cozy space reserved for first-time interviews and subsequent meetings that required putting their clients at ease.
FBI Supervisory Special Agent Kyle “Hutch” Hutchinson heard the lower-level activity loud and clear.
He shifted onto his side in Casey’s bed, wishing the workday would take a hiatus. But he also knew Casey would kill him if she were late to an appointment—any appointment, but most specifically a new-client interview.
“Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,” he said.
His voice ruffled Casey’s mane of red hair, now tousled and spread out across the pillows.
She mumbled an unintelligible protest and snuggled back under the covers.
A corner of Hutch’s mouth lifted. “Come on, Case.” He gave her a gentle shake.
Casey swatted his hand away. He’d kept her awake half the night, and her muscles were feeling it. “Tired,” she murmured. “Need sleep.”
A sated chuckle. “I’m sure you do. But I have to get to the FBI field office, and you have a new client meeting in forty-five minutes.”
That did the trick.
Casey’s eyes snapped open and she practically leapt out of bed. “Dammit,” she said. “What happened to the alarm?”
Propping himself on one elbow, Hutch gave her his slow, sexy grin. “I might have accidentally turned it off.”
Casey picked up a pillow and tossed it at him. “Just because you have an internal clock like the atomic clock at NIST doesn’t mean we all do.”
“Mine worked for both of us. I woke you when you needed to get going. Just one more perk of sleeping with me.”
Casey’s lips were twitching as she headed toward the bathroom. “You gave me enough perks last night. But for God’s sake, Hutch, I’m the president of Forensic Instincts. We’re interviewing a potential client. I need to set an example. Besides, I’m never late.” She turned and gave him a warning look. “Don’t even think of following me into the shower.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Hutch admired her nakedness until she’d disappeared from view. “But I will take a rain check,” he called after her. “In the meantime, Hero needs a walk.” Rising and pulling on his sweats and sneakers, Hutch made eye contact with the handsome red bloodhound who’d raised his head the minute he heard his name. “Come on, boy,” Hutch said, giving him a hand signal—a signal that the former FBI human scent evidence dog instantly obeyed. “We’ve got time for a short walk, a quick breakfast, and then it’s off to work for us both. You and Casey have to join the team downstairs, and I’ve got to shower and haul ass to Federal Plaza.”
With a sharp bark of understanding, Hero snapped into active mode. He followed Hutch out of the bedroom and the apartment, hurrying down the three flights of stairs to the front door.
“Ah. You spent the night,” Ryan McKay, the team’s techno-genius, called out. “That explains our fearless leader’s tardiness.”
“It’s eight twenty-two, your meeting’s at nine, and fuck off,” Hutch said good-naturedly. He clipped Hero’s leash onto his collar. “Hero needs to take care of business. See you in a few.”
Hutch rolled his eyes as he and Hero pounded the pavement. Ryan—who was the antithesis of every stereotype assigned to an IT-guy—was already preparing to needle Casey about this. Well, Casey would put him in his place in a New York minute. Poor Ryan still had trouble realizing that, no matter how tight a family they all were, Casey was Forensic Instincts’ leader.
Fifteen minutes later, Hutch and Hero returned to the upstairs apartment. Casey was already showered, dressed in a light blue silk blouse and white slacks, and munching on a protein bar as she scanned her notes.
“Hi,” she said, glancing up. “I’ve got to get downstairs. Can you feed Hero?”
Hutch nodded. “I’m willing to pay penance for turning off the alarm. I’ll make Hero’s food, shower while he’s eating, and then deliver him to the first-floor conference room.”
“Thanks. Just text me when you’re coming down. One of us will step out and get him.”
“Right. Client confidentiality. Got it.” Hutch walked over, tilted Casey’s chin up wit
h his forefinger, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll call you.”
“You’d better.” She smiled, turning and descending the steps. “Have a good day.”
“Yeah, you, too. Oh, and be ready to cut Ryan off at the knees. He’s in top form today.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
* * *
