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He stopped breathing long enough for me to sense subdued panic. “Uh, I’m not sure. After I get settled in the hotel room, I go downstairs and check in, and then I get some sort of schedule.”
“That’s … vague.”
“I’m just supposed to learn about the latest in equipment, technique, stuff like that. Total waste of time. But at least … Oh, I forgot to tell you. Becca is having some kind of issues with her pregnancy. Brandon isn’t going, so at least I won’t get arrested for battery in California.”
I shifted to look at him. “In what universe would Brandon not travel to be a decent human being?”
Travis didn’t want to meet my eyes. “I don’t know. Must be serious.”
I kissed my husband goodnight and then settled back against my pillow, squeezing him one last time before he drifted off. I ran my fingers over his buzzed hair, lost in thought. My husband was lying to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Adonis
Travis
AFTER SECURITY CHECKS AT ALMOSTevery fucking door and floor, I finally stepped inside the office of Squad Five where—it was hard for me to wrap my mind around it, much less believe it—my big brother, Thomas, was boss. The office was full of busy people, typing, talking on the phone, rushing around with files in their hands.
I passed the first office, looking through the open door to see my brother’s date to my wedding in St. Thomas.
She stood and walked toward me with a smile.
“Liis? That’s a big office, do you run this place or does Tommy?”
She seemed irritated by something I’d said. “Well, make no mistake, no one runs this place but your brother. I’m the supervisor on this floor, yes. Come with me, his office is down the hall.”
I passed by a maze of cubicles separated by short walls covered in gray fabric. I got brief glances from the other agents, some pausing mid-sentence to stare at me.
“Ignore them,” Liis said. “It’s like the Real Housewives of San Diego on this floor. They love to gossip, and they know you’re the baby brother of the feared ASAC.”
“What’s an ASAC?”
“Your brother is the ASAC. Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Hello Constance,” Liis greeted the woman at a desk separate from the others, her white-blond curls falling just past her shoulders. She looked more like an Alabama debutante than an employee for the FBI.
“Agent Lindy,” she said with a southern twang.
Called it.
“Travis Maddox, this is Constance Ashley, the ASAC’s assistant. Don’t let the lashes fool you, there is a Ruger under her desk and she’s the best shot in Squad Five.”
Constance’s blue eyes brightened, and she batted the long, black lashes Lindy had just mentioned. “Why, thank you, Agent Lindy. I’ve been telling Maddox that for years.” She touched the earpiece in her ear and then nodded to us. “You can go in.”
Liis led me through a thick wooden door into Thomas’s corner office. Two walls were just windows, overlooking the Vista Sorrento Parkway, a vet clinic, and a self-storage yard. It wasn’t a great view, but probably the best in the building.
Thomas stood up and opened his arms wide. “There’s my baby brother.”
“Not the welcome anyone else gets, but okay,” Liis grumbled.
Thomas hugged me, and then noticed my unease. “Hey,” he said, meeting my eyes with his. “Hard part’s over. Those charges are behind you, and now you just have to be yourself. Have a seat.”
I took one chair that sat in front of his desk, Liis took the other. She looked calm and collected. I felt like I wanted to jump through the windows and run until I was back in my apartment with Abby.
My brother was supposed to be an ad exec, but there he sat, in his federal suit and his federal tie, behind his huge federal desk. On the wall, awards I didn’t know he’d won. On his desk, photos with important people I didn’t know he knew.
“None of this is going to be easy, Tommy. Do you know how many fucking lies I had to tell my wife just to get here? How the hell am I going to pay my bills if I’m running around fetching intel for you?”
“Informants get paid. Well. And we’ve taken care of your back story for Abby. We’re rerouting any calls to your hotel or the convention center. We’ve created content if she Googles the convention.”
