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I slid the photo back into the folder, then snatched up the files. Maybe I’d do a little extra work over the weekend.
When I stepped out of my office, I saw a man headed in my direction. I straightened. Special Agent Damien Keegan was in charge of our task force. He wasn’t very tall, but he was muscular, with wide shoulders. His hair had gone gray, and he had a semi-permanent scowl on his face most of the time.
I liked his straightforward style of leadership. He liked getting results and treated everyone fairly.
“Coleman.”
“Sir.” I nodded.
“You’re heading out?”
“Yes.”
His gaze fell to the files in my arms. “And taking work with you.”
“I figured I could do a little work on the weekend. I’m frustrated with our lack of success so far.”
His scowl deepened. “Me too, but we aren’t giving up. We have a good team, and I’m glad you’re a part of it, Coleman. You do good work.”
I felt a flush of pleasure. My work meant a lot to me. “Thank you.”
“You ever want to join the FBI, you let me know. You’ve got a good career ahead of you.” He nodded. “I’ll see you Monday.”
I headed out of the office, and soon I was listening to the radio as I drove my Honda Civic toward Dian Xin on the way to my apartment on the edge of the Warehouse District.
When I’d still lived in New Orleans, my sister and I frequently trekked out to Little Chinatown in Kenner and its many restaurants. Thankfully, one of our favorite chefs had opened a restaurant in the French Quarter.
Once I was loaded up with xiao long bao and fried rice, I headed for home. The crowds were already getting thick in the French Quarter. I had to admit, I did miss the mild Louisiana fall and winter. Living in Virginia, I’d learned to dislike the snow. Intensely.
Yes, Louisiana was in my blood. I’d take a beach holiday over skiing any day. I snorted. Not that I spent any time at the beach. I was always working.
Soon, I was driving past the warehouses and manufacturing buildings that had now been converted into lofts and condos. I loved the Warehouse District. I’d bought a two-bed apartment there after I’d started work at the Treasury Department. Lexxie lived in it now.
After I’d parked in the ground-level garage and grabbed my stuff, I headed for the elevator. My heels clicked on the concrete, and I juggled my files and the takeout bag.
Our place was on the third floor. The building also had a shared rooftop terrace, with a kickass view of the city. If you ever had time to enjoy it. I screwed up my nose. Okay, so I was a workaholic. I liked my job, and I liked working financial crimes. Maybe it wasn’t as glamorous as being out in the field, tracking down deadly criminals or terrorists, but I knew I did important work. Stopping the flow of money helped stop the bad guys.
I knew better than anyone that even financial crimes destroyed lives.
The elevator slowed and opened. I shifted my files and the bag to get my keys, and unlocked our front door.
“I’m home.” I bumped the door closed with my hip, then dropped my keys on the small side table.
Instantly, some of the day’s tensions faded away.
“Hey, sis!” My sister’s voice came from deeper in the apartment.
I hustled to the kitchen. It was all open to the dining and living area. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was a decent size. There was an awesome brick wall at one end, and wooden beams overhead. I dropped everything on the huge white island just as Lexxie appeared, a wide, white smile on her pretty face. Her dark curls were a riot around her head.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“Long.”
Lexxie was four years younger than me. Even though she was twenty-six, I still thought of her as a baby.
Our parents were Louisiana Creole, through and through. Descended from the inhabitants of Louisiana, before it became part of the United States, their ancestry was a mix of French, Spanish, and African. My mom liked to say she was like the signature Creole dish of gumbo—a bold mix of lots of flavors. I was proud of my heritage.
God, I missed her. That bittersweet grief was like a tiny ball that lived in my chest. Losing her to a heart attack when I was twenty had been a terrible blow.
