AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Briar
Morning came far too early, especially after Briar had spent the night dreaming about Royce King. Sexy dreams, the kind where she woke up hot and bothered and entirely unsatisfied. And that made her just a tiny bit grumpy.
After blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling for a few minutes, she threw back the covers, rolled out of bed, and opened the door to peek into the hallway. It didn’t sound as if the shower was running. Maybe Royce had an en suite off his bedroom, although in a house this size, she doubted it. Grabbing her clothes, she darted across the hall into the small bathroom.
Funny how, until she was standing underneath the spray, she hadn’t realized how much she’d craved a shower. Last night she’d been too tired to take one, even if she’d been grubby from being thrown onto the wet grass and then hiking through a muddy field. Still, sleep had been hard to come by—when she hadn’t been dreaming about Royce, images from their search of the house had been playing through her head, her brain certain they’d missed something important.
Images of the fire had plagued her as well, ones that had gotten caught up in Briar’s childhood memories, creating a nightmare that had her waking up at three a.m. in a sweat.
Also, memories of her father. Some good, some not so good.
Briar squeezed shampoo into her hand and began scrubbing her scalp, then immediately paused. Had her mother been notified of Tor’s death? Probably. Just hadn’t bothered to call Briar, something she wouldn’t put past her mother. Or maybe Courtney just didn’t care.
Briar’s mother had been married several times since her divorce from Tor. Where Briar and Tor had had a complicated relationship, they had at least maintained some contact over the years. Briar had faithfully called Tor once a month, the conversations usually only lasting ten or fifteen minutes. They didn’t talk about much of anything, although Tor had known about Briar’s transfer. Mostly, Tor complained about newcomers to the area causing trouble and more recently about the procedure his doctor had wanted to try on Tor’s hands.
Briar and Courtney did not speak.
She groaned as she finished washing her hair, realizing that she was probably going to have to track Courtney down at some point and the conversation would likely be unpleasant.
Ten minutes later and she was clean, dressed in the practical Pacific Northwest attire she kept in her wardrobe for trips to cold, damp places, and as refreshed as she was going to be that morning. Briar opened the bathroom door, needing caffeine stat. Royce was standing on the other side, his hand raised as if he’d been about to knock.
“Coffee?” he enquired with a devilish smile as he lowered his hand.
“God, yes.”
If he stood in her way much longer she was going to knock him down. Or kiss him. Maybe kiss him and then get to the coffee pot.
“What you’re telling me is, if a murder van was offering free coffee, you would be an easy target?”
Royce’s hair was damp—a bathroom likely off the master, after all—and he was wearing what looked to be an ancient pair of sweats paired with an equally ancient US Army sweatshirt. She couldn’t help but notice that he filled both of them out nicely. Very nicely, indeed.
“Yes, or a bookmobile. Murder van disguised as a bookmobile and offering free coffee? I’d be a goner.”
“You still like to read? I seem to remember you either had your nose in a book or were racing around the track miles in front of everyone else.”
This was a lot of conversation before caffeine. Was Royce a… morning person? Briar shuddered but smiled to herself, amazed he recalled even that much about her. She’d always thought that, except for Ashley Peres and her gang, no one had noticed her.
Royce headed toward the main area of the house and she followed, stopping quickly at the guest room to find a pair of socks before making her way to the kitchen and the elixir that was coffee. Why was she thinking about Royce when everything was going wrong? She dated some, never seriously. Mostly, when men found out she was ATF, they went into competition mode, and when they inevitably lost, their feelings were hurt and that was it. And that wasn’t going to change because Briar didn’t pull her punches.
Briar was never going to let someone over the age of twelve win just because of feelings. They would only win because they were actually faster, more accurate, or smarter than she was. She had the feeling that Royce King would be a great competitor. And that maybe he wouldn’t whine when he inevitably lost. Because Briar would win, even if Royce thought otherwise right now.
“Bishop called a few minutes ago,” Royce said as she entered the kitchen. “Did you know Jakes was in the Navy? He trained as a sniper before going to the ATF.”
No, Briar hadn’t known that. Jakes definitely had the intense and focused personality a sniper needed, though.
She shrugged, accepting a steaming mug of coffee from Royce. “It’s not that unusual. I don’t like him, but that doesn’t automatically make him a suspect.”
She wanted to suspect him. She didn’t trust the man, not after the way he didn’t have her back.
“When he’s been placed on administrative leave, it does—at least in my book.”
That was news to Briar. “Administrative leave? When?” Admittedly, she’d cut herself off from most of her ATF acquaintances.
“From what Bishop has been able to dig up, since mid-August.”
Briar was thinking about the last time she’d actually had contact with Christian Jakes. It had to have been early June, right after she’d gotten back to LA. Their conversation had been rancorous and bitter, and Briar had left Jakes’s office angry and assigned to the FBI.
“I haven’t spoken with Jakes since around Memorial Day weekend. What else did Bishop find out?” Maybe she needed to quit giving Jakes excuses for his behavior, that wasn’t like her. Maybe his responses last spring had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him.
