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Armstrong stepped forward, a vein pulsing in his jaw, and Sean didn’t budge, but he realized there was something more going on between him and Armstrong than he knew.
“What branch were you in?” Sean asked, changing the subject.
Armstrong didn’t blink. “Air Force. Ravens.”
Security force. They worked heavily in South and Central America, where Sean’s brother Kane had the strongest influence. Had his oldest brother messed with this former Raven?
“You were never in the armed forces,” Armstrong said with disdain.
Sean needed to call Duke to find out…but he didn’t want to pull in his brother. It had been hard enough to get Duke to let him and Patrick open up RCK East and slide out from under the auspices of their controlling brothers. He’d find out more about Noah Armstrong through his own sources. And whatever the problem was, it had nothing to do with Lucy or this case.
“No, I never served. But I do fly.”
“Do you?”
“You probably already know that.”
Armstrong didn’t comment.
“Ralston was an informant for the D.C. police for years, as long as Tess has known him. The cop’s name was Jerry Biggler. Know him?”
“No. But I will.”
FIFTEEN
Sean was speechless when Lucy came to the door wearing a royal-blue dress that somehow managed to be both modest and sexy as hell. It had a high neck and revealed little flesh, but it hugged her shapely and athletic body as if it had been created just for her. The skirt swirled around her calves as it would on a dancer. With her hair pinned loosely back, she was, simply, stunning.
“Thanks again,” Lucy said as if he were the one doing her a favor. She set the alarm and locked the door.
Sean found his voice. “Hey, beautiful, my pleasure.”
She hesitated before putting her keys in her purse, and Sean mentally hit himself. That sounded like such a line. A line he’d happily use on any of his previous girlfriends, but Lucy was nothing like them, and he wasn’t going to treat her like the flavor of the month.
Sean lowered his voice. “I really mean it, Lucy, you look amazing.” He reached up and touched one of her thick curls. Her hair was soft and shiny, and her lips—he knew he’d better not think about her full, painted lips right now.
“Thank you.” She smiled, and he relaxed. He wanted to give Lucy a fun night out, even if they were going to a fund-raiser for a victims’ rights group. He intended to convince her to go for dessert afterward.
He opened the passenger door for her, and she said, “Chivalry isn’t dead. I thought my brother Dillon was the only one who still opened doors.”
“I don’t do it for just anyone,” he said as he closed the door. She might have thought that was a line, but it was the truth.
As soon as he pulled away from the curb, Lucy asked, “About what you said yesterday, looking into why Roger Morton was in D.C.—”
“Let’s not ruin this evening.” He wanted to tell Lucy about what he’d learned, and about Ralston’s murder, but he didn’t want her to be upset or preoccupied with Morton tonight.
“Not knowing is worse than knowing.”
“I haven’t learned anything important.” He hesitated, then said, “I narrowed down all Morton’s known associates within a hundred-mile radius who are still alive and not in prison. The three I spoke to don’t know anything.”
Lucy glanced at him, her narrow eyebrow raised. “And they told you the truth?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m a Rogan.”
“Is that like having a golden lasso?”
“Naw, I don’t look so good in blue shorts with stars.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
