by April Hunt
“Is it me, or was the fire-breathing dragon’s breath particularly toxic this afternoon?” Grace muttered the moment they were alone. “Most people would feel sorry when a member of their family suffers from a break-up, but when Knox ended things with the Dragon, I had two celebratory glasses of Moscato.”
Zoey laughed. “So did I.”
“Zoey.” At Cade’s approach, Grace shifted at her side.
Zoey’s hand quickly shot out, looping around her friend’s arm. “No you don’t. Not this time.”
“Liam said he’d have your place locked down by this evening,” Cade announced. “But I still think you shouldn’t stay there. At least for tonight.”
“I’m not. I’m going to stay with Grace and worry about the cleanup tomorrow.” Zoey nodded to her friend, but Grace refused to meet Cade’s eyes or acknowledge his presence.
“I can have a company come out and handle all that.”
Zoey grimaced. “You mean more strangers touching my stuff? No thanks. I got it covered.”
His mouth opened and closed no fewer than four times before he turned on his heel with a few mumbled curses.
“Little Zoey Wright cleaning up her own messes? Miracles do exist,” Fran’s grating voice chided. “What do you do with all your free time if it isn’t spent trying to make all the guys around you bend to your will?”
Next to Zoey, Grace’s chin lifted in challenge. “If it isn’t Francine Smoke. You must have grown extra-long talons if you were able to crawl your way out of that slime pit you fell into. How about I show you back there?”
Fran’s blood red lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Careful, Gracie. I’m working in the District Attorney’s office now. I’m not exactly someone whose bad side you want to get on. Again.”
“Oh. You have a briefcase. How cute.” With a small grin, Grace flashed the FBI badge on her hip. “I have a federal badge and a gun. So now that we both know that mine is bigger than yours, why don’t you go breathe on someone else.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing the two of you again.” Francine stalked off on her four-inch heels.
“Am I a horrible person for wishing she’d trip and break her manufactured nose? Or at the least, bloody it a bit?” Zoey asked.
“No. Because if that makes you a horrible person, wishing she’d fall and break her uptight ass would mean I have one foot in hell.” Grace rolled her eyes and sighed. “For an observant guy, it sure took Knox a hell of a long time to see through that. Personally, I think it was the boobs that blurred his judgment.”
As Francine disappeared from the floor, something stabbed Zoey center chest—a sick, pulsing ache that turned her stomach. “I’m as far away from a Fran as it gets.”
“Well, I would hope so!”
“You know what I mean, Grace. Even Knox said it. It’s obvious he has a type, and I’m not it.”
“You mean the soulless fire-breathing-dragon type?” Grace dropped an arm over her shoulder. “If that’s what my cousin finds appealing, then count yourself lucky he gave you The Speech. Besides, scales wouldn’t go well with your fair complexion—and could you imagine the cost of all that lotion you’d need?”
Zoey’s laugh ended on a snort. Grace never ceased to make her see the brighter side of things. “You’re right. Who needs a strapping muscle-bound man to bring all your sexual fantasies to life when you’re scale-less and have a warm, blood-pumping heart?”
“And have a battery-operated BYOO.”
“BYOO? Do I even want to know?”
Grace’s smirk turned devilish. “Bring Your Own Orgasm. Now, about replacing your clothes…we need to have a plan of attack. I’m thinking lingerie first, and then we can swing by that cute boutique on Connecticut.”
Grinning, Zoey let Grace have her fun. If there was one thing Grace took more seriously than profiling, it was shopping.
His Heart slowly fluttered from one rack to another, occasionally picking a dress and holding it against Her slender body. She and her FBI friend had already collected a healthy number of bags, and as they stood in front of the cashier of Betty’s Boutique, each acquired another two.
It killed him to keep his distance, but he waited until She left to make his approach. The doorbell chimed, signaling a new customer. Him.
“Can I help you?” The attendant who’d plied His Heart with dress after dress smiled.
“I’m hoping you can. I’m looking for something in midnight blue.”
“Lovely color.” She came out from around the corner. “And a popular one tonight. I just sold a cocktail dress made from the prettiest dark satin.”
He smiled. “Really? Do you happen to have another one? I’d love to see it up close.”
“Oh, no, hon. We only sell one-of-a-kinds here…but I could probably find you something a lot similar.”
“That would be incredible, thank you.”
The older woman nearly batted her eyes as she led him toward a corner rack where she found another dark blue dress. “Because we don’t deal with mass-manufactured items, finding the correct size can be tricky. But we have an amazing seamstress on staff who does wonders with resizing.”
He accepted the dress and refrained—barely—from caressing it against his cheek. “No, I think this one will be perfect.”
“For your girlfriend? Mother? Special…lady friend?”
He found the woman’s inquisition unprofessional. “No…this is for My Heart.”
Chapter
Eleven
Knox parked along the curb, his well-loved truck looking like farm equipment next to the sleek Jags and Porsches decorating the Georgetown neighborhood. More than one dog walker shot him and Cade a suspicious look as they climbed out from the pickup.
“I don’t think we make enough money to even walk down this street,” Cade joked. “Guess we know Roman’s guy isn’t lying about having money to spare, huh?”
Waiting against one of the swanky gray-stone townhomes, Roman pushed off the wall as they crossed the street. “About time you two showed.”
“Considering you gave us a two-hour turnaround time, you’re lucky we’re here at all,” Knox countered.
He’d asked Roman about this meet-up multiple time in the last two days, ever since he’d gotten Cade to agree to it. Each time he’d brought it up, his brother said he was working on it and walked in the opposite direction.
Ro ignored the jibe and led the way up an ornate set of stairs. “Keep in mind that the rest of us need to maintain a working relationship with Wilcox. Bottom line—don’t be an ass.”
Cade grinned at Knox as they reached the door. “Is this how the Steeles do wooing? Because I’m not feeling particularly wooed. No wonder none of you have a woman.”
Roman muttered a few foul words under his breath and pressed the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened, and standing inside a lavishly decorated foyer was an honest-to-God butler.
“Welcome, Mr. Steele. The General has been expecting you. If you care to follow me into the study?”
Roman waved him off. “I know where that is, Charles. Thanks. We’ll see ourselves there.”
“Very well, sir.” Charles hustled away, leaving the three of them standing in front of a grandiose staircase.
Knox glanced at Cade, and the two shared a low chuckle.
“Get it all out of your system now,” Roman growled.
Incredulity covered Knox’s face. “He makes his staff call him the General?”
“Because he retired as one. Wilcox comes from old money, and as much as he tried shunning it with a stint in the Army, it came back to bite him on the ass—and in the pocketbook.” Roman added, “This place may be pretentious, but he’s not. He’s good people.”
Obviously having been here a time or two, Roman led them down the hall. They bypassed no fewer than four rooms, all a hell of a lot bigger than Knox’s entire boat.
General Hogan Wilcox sat on a couch, four antique guns spread out on the oversized coffee table in front
of him. With a magnifying glass in one hand and a small cleaning brush in another, he examined the chamber of what looked to be Civil War era Smith & Wesson.
Short and meticulous, his gray hair and serious expression identified him as retired military. He glanced up when they entered the room, and stood. “Roman. Good to see you. And you’ve brought the infamous older brother as well as Detective Wright.”
“Thanks for meeting us, sir. I know you’re busy.”
“I always have time to put minds at ease.” Wilcox gestured to some chairs. “Please. Sit. Stand. I just ask that you don’t pace the room. I suffer from motion sickness in my old age.”
Knox wouldn’t call the former Joint Chief of Staff old, and highly doubted the retired officer suffered from sickness of any kind. His wide shoulders and broad chest indicated he worked out probably as hard as he had while on active duty.
Wilcox studied them quietly before taking a seat. “Roman tells me that you have reservations about jumping on board with Steele Ops, Mr. Wright. I have to say, after reading your military history, you don’t strike me as the type of man not up for a challenge.”
Cade’s spine stiffened, and so did Knox’s. Way to start a damn meet and greet.
“Most of my time with the Army is classified,” Cade recovered quickly.
Wilcox grinned. “Not for me.”
“Isn’t that comforting,” Knox muttered.
Cade harrumphed in agreement. “As I told Roman, if it were any other time or place, I’d be all over something like Steele Ops. It’s just not what’s good for me right now. I’m happy where I am.”
Wilcox studied Cade carefully with piercing blue eyes that probably didn’t miss a beat. “Are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure you enjoy keeping this city safe, but you strike me as the type of man who needs a little more in your life…more action, more challenge…more control. There’s an awful lot of restrictions and red tape in law enforcement.”
The general’s all-knowing attitude finally unsealed Knox’s lips. “And you’re telling me that you, the man who jimmied open sealed military records, is offering a tape-free environment? Excuse my doubt.”
Wilcox slid his attention to Knox. “Sounds like you have a lot of doubt, Mr. Steele…or you would’ve joined your brothers in DC quite a while ago.”
Knox threw a glare at Roman. He stood behind Wilcox, lips pressed into a tight line, and returned Knox’s hard look with one of his own.
Wilcox cleared his throat. “We’re getting a bit off topic, and I apologize for my lack of social graces. Determined, loyal men of your caliber, and with your skill sets, are few and far between. The difference Steele Ops could make with one of you on board is vast. The lives that could be saved with both of you? Limitless. You’d be damn near unstoppable.”
Truth glimmered from the older man’s eyes. He believed what he said and said what he thought. No sugar-coating or easing into difficult topics. Knox had more than one commanding officer who’d been the same way.
It took a bit of getting used to, but they were usually always right.
But there was something else Knox couldn’t pin. It locked on Cade and spoke through Wilcox’s voice. “I understand you have a sister who’s struggled with health issues the majority of her life. Am I to assume your need to remain close to home involves her?”
Cade’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You seem to know a lot already. You tell me.”
Wilcox settled back in his seat. “I value family too, Detective Wright, although most of mine are now long gone. I get your need to shelter those you care about. It took me a damn long time to figure out that sometimes on our path to keep them safe, we hurt them more.”
One look at Cade’s face revealed that the general’s words hit home. Hell, they did for Knox too. He snuck a glance at Roman, who now stood less than two feet away. He was either a grumpy ass, or a smart grumpy ass. Knox wasn’t sure which.
“I’m not here to apply pressure,” Wilcox added, “and the last thing I want to do is push anyone into a decision that’s not best for them and their family. But if it’s your sister’s future that’s holding you back, rest assured that I’ve worked with Roman on a first-class benefits package. I hope we never have reason to execute it, but in the event of an operative loss, loved ones will be taken care of…entirely. And that’s the end of my sales pitch. I hoped I’ve pleaded my case well enough for the two of you to consider coming on board.”
“I’ll think about,” Cade surprised them all by saying. “No promises.”
“Of course not. It’s a big decision and it’s not without sacrifice.” Wilcox stood, and after shaking each of their hands, showed them back out to the foyer. “My door is always open, gentlemen. Feel free to stop by if you have any other questions or concerns. Roman, good seeing you again.”
Roman led them outside, waiting until the door closed behind them.
“Well?” he asked the moment they hit the sidewalk.
“He’s not what I expected,” Knox answered truthfully. Other than that, he didn’t know what to feel. He turned to Cade. “What do you think? You’re the one he’s trying to get on the team.”
“He means what he says. He’s a straight shooter.”
Roman nodded. “The straightest.”
Knox knew his brother believed it. Hell, he did too…if it weren’t for that little tug of his gut that prevented him from hopping all the way on the Hogan Wilcox fan wagon. It was in the way he watched Cade…in the inflection of his voice when he mentioned Zoey.
His brain wrapped up in deciphering the meeting, it took him an extra second to realize Cade had spoken. “Wait. What?”
His friend threw him a devilish grin. “I said, I met with him. I fulfilled my half of the bargain and now it’s time for you to do yours…and it starts tomorrow night.”
It took a minute to remember. “Your self-defense class.”
“Do yourself a favor and wear long sleeves. And pants. Do you have any Kevlar lying around on that boat?”
“Kevlar to teach grandmas how to gouge out a pair of eyes? Isn’t that a bit overkill?”
Roman flat-out laughed. Laughed! The sound of it startled both Knox and Cade. “You have Knox taking over at the rec center? Priceless.”
“Is there something I should know?” The more he heard about this class, the less he liked the idea of it, and especially now that it seemed to tickle his brother’s damn funny bone.
“Cade’s been trying to pawn that class off on everyone for months.”
Cade’s smirk widened. “I knew my efforts would eventually pay off. But seriously? Layers. Those ladies may have a mean age of eighty-two, but their ass pinches are no less lethal. Especially Dottie’s. You gotta watch out for Dottie.”
Knox climbed into his truck to the chorus of Roman’s and Cade’s chuckles. His first instinct was to growl about the con job, but seeing a spark of humor in Roman’s eyes for the first time since arriving in DC, he clamped his mouth shut.
He’d take the small victories when he could.
Even if they were at his own expense.
Prematurely shut-off alarm clock. Ice-cold shower. Misplaced jewelry. Add in a thirty-minute late Metro bus, and a re-route to the nearest train station, and it was a sucktastic day from the second the sun peeked over the horizon.
Zoey hustled up the Metro steps and glanced longingly at the corner coffee shop, wishing she could take the gamble. Caffeine was not her friend—or the friend of anyone with a congenital heart defect. A few minutes after taking the first sip, her finicky heart would kick into hyperdrive, and make a solid attempt at bursting through her sternum.
Even that was tolerable compared to the heart skips. Nothing freaked Zoey out more than the sensation of her heart stumbling over itself to restart.
With one last longing glance at the coffee shop, she ran into the walking wall exiting though the door. “I’m so sorry. Please tell me I didn’t make you sp
ill anything.”
“Nope. My rocket fuel’s safe and sound, sweet pea.”
Zoey’s head snapped up and she chuckled. “Roman. Do I even want to know how many energy boosts you have in that cup?”
“Probably not. Can I buy you one? Or a java mocha frap something-or-other with extra foam?”
“I wish. But decaf isn’t the same. It makes me sad.” Zoey stepped to the side to let another customer slip past. “So where you hustling off to this morning?”
“Business meeting for Iron Bars. You?”
“Doctor’s appointment at Georgetown.”
“Everything okay?” Roman frowned over his coffee.
“Just a checkup. Dr. Samuel’s being cautious after last year’s surprise surgery. And as much as I hate being poked and prodded, it’s worth it if I don’t have to go underneath a scalpel again.”
“As long as it’s nothing serious.”
“Nope. All’s good here.”
“I’m headed that direction if you want company on the walk.”
Roman’s offer to walk surprised her. Lately he’d been in slink-away mode. Two weeks ago, he’d appeared at the tail end of a joint family dinner, his knuckles split open and the bottom corner of his lip swollen. He’d played it off as an exercise injury, but Zoey didn’t know of any heavy bags that punched back.
They walked the few blocks, Roman notably quiet. He’d never been the most vocal of his brothers, but Zoey registered something different, something that she noticed ever since Knox’s surprise arrival.
“So Knox is back. All the Steeles are in one geographical location.” Zoey finally broke the silence. “That’s exciting.”
“There a question in there, sweet pea?”
“Nope.”
He slid her a sideways glance and sipped his coffee. “One-word answers from you is eerie as shit.”
“Now you know how the rest of us feel, Mr. King of the Brood.”
His lips twitched, which was no small feat. “King of the Brood?”
