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Zeke focused on the SRA. Who was he to fault his brother for following the rules? One phone call from Ash, commanding him to his side with no details, and here he was. Even after years of leading BARS, he’d slid right into the familiar—and more comfortable—role of second-in-command without a thought.
“We’re working a high-profile case and my UCA’s confidential informant has made a demand,” Lawson said.
“I don’t speak G-geek. What’s a UCA?”
The skin around Lawson’s eyes tightened the slightest bit. Good. Now they both had each other’s measure.
“Undercover agent,” Lawson explained.
Zeke stared hard at his brother. “Are you this UCA?”
“We can’t get into the specifics of the operation, at this time,” Lawson interjected.
Ash gave nothing away, not by word or expression. A good soldier, following orders.
Unable to tune out Liv any longer, he flashed her a glance, only to find that she wore the same impassive expression as his brother. Zeke set his jaw and gave the SRA his full attention, ignoring the way his guts were curling into a cold knot. “What does any of this have to do with BARS?”
“The CI—confidential informant—claims someone stole an item from him several months ago.”
“What kind of item?”
“A valuable antiquity.”
Comprehension dawned. “You want BARS to retrieve it.”
Surprise shot across Liv’s face. “Why are you contracting a recovery for an antiquity? I’ll take care of it.”
Lawson stared at Liv for a long moment. His anger ricocheted around the room, though his expression, nor his body altered. “You’re nose deep in the O’Fallon case.” He paused a palpable second. “Even if you weren’t, you don’t have the skillset this recovery requires.”
Liv leaned forward. “My success rate is a hundred percent.” Her tone hardened. “Exactly what skillset do I lack?”
Bright red rimmed Lawson’s ears. Either he wasn’t used to someone challenging him—or something else was at play here. “Do you recall the warning I gave you in my office, Special Agent Westcott?”
Liv’s entire upper body moved on a deep inhalation, then she slowly sat back.
“The ability to cross the line,” Zeke supplied, answering Liv’s question, though he directed the comment to his brother.
Ash’s gaze slammed toward the table a brief second before he looked at Zeke. His brother’s sign of discomfort was all the confirmation he needed. And yet, something else lurked in the depths of his brother’s eyes.
A challenge, Zeke thought. Nothing new. Ash was a Blackwell. Challenging each other was a rite of passage.
No, what bothered Zeke far more was the thing Ash was concealing behind his challenging stare.
“What line?” Liv asked, missing, or ignoring, the tense exchange.
Lawson and Ash said nothing. Not within these hallowed walls. Where justice and law ruled every decision, guided every action.
Not so with BARS.
After he’d reorganized the family’s repo company, the newly branded Blackwell Asset Recovery Services had slowly grown into a multimillion-dollar business. BARS specialized in recovering property that was deemed unrecoverable. If, at times, they employed methods that would in some circles be considered illegal, so be it.
They had played by the rules for years, and the family barely scraped by. He had no problem righting wrongs by whatever means necessary. Not all of his brothers agreed with his fluid ethics. But for now, he was the one calling the shots, and everyone but Phin seemed to have no problem adjusting their mindsets.
“The fine line that separates recovery from theft.” Zeke’s gaze landed on his big brother, the man he’d idolized his whole life. The man who’d handled every difficult situation with ease and grace. The man who’d walked away from the family business to find legitimate work.
The man who was now asking him to break the law.
“You can’t be serious.”
