A girl with a drug-addicted mother and dead father didn’t exactly have faith in the staying power of relationships. She’d spent the majority of her life isolating herself from the possibility of heartbreak. In her experience, if she didn’t get close to people, the opportunity for disappointment decreased dramatically.
And just yards in front of her, behind the door of a squat one-story building, one of her few friends was about to get bulldozed.
Well, maybe not. All Roni needed to do was march in, show Maggie the photos of the dead gangbanger, and ask her about them. They’d have a conversation and Roni would leave. Head back to DC, where she’d inform dickheads Karl Quigley and Don Harding that Maggie knew nothing.
About anything.
End of story.
At which point, she’d probably be shown out of Langley, thereby kissing her career down the toilet.
Drama, drama, drama. Leave it to her with the fatalist thinking.
Roni twisted her lips and concentrated on the glass front door emblazoned with Maggie’s name and Haywood County Sheriff in thick block letters. A conversation.
That’s all it had to be.
She flipped her hair back and pushed open the car door. Time to go to work.
She strode to the door, straightening her leather jacket as she went. Just a conversation.
Inside, Maggie’s assistant, Shari, sat at the reception desk. Back in the task force days, Roni had met Shari a few times, but mostly spoke on the phone with the woman when trying to track down Maggie.
Still, upon seeing Roni enter, Shari’s eyes popped wide. “Well, hello there, Roni,” she said. “How nice to see you.”
“Hi, Shari. Sorry to barge in, but I was in the area. Thought I’d say hi.” She pointed down the hallway. “Is she in?”
“She is. Hang on, I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Shari disappeared down the hallway, stepping into Maggie’s office. A minute later, Maggie appeared. She barreled toward Roni in a uniform that wasn’t just pressed, but pristine. Maggie always did pride herself on her professional appearance. As usual, she’d pulled her honey-blond hair into a ponytail that swung as she walked. That was Maggie, all polished energy.
A blast of guilt slammed Roni. She should ditch this plan. Just tell Maggie she was back for a quick visit and stopped in to say hello. No murdered gangbanger. No covert investigation into West Waylon Kingston, a man talented enough to build bullets that didn’t just decimate people, but ate their organs.
Before Roni could bolt, Maggie was on her, wrapping her in a hug that was both awkward and funny considering Maggie had a good five inches on Roni’s 5’4” stature.
For a second, the physical contact set her on edge. But this was Maggie, a woman with whom she’d shared meals and long talks about the perils and sexism surrounding women in law enforcement. Sisters in crime. That was them. And Maggie, Roni felt sure, probably made an awesome sister.
The nipping came again, that constant reminder that she had no family—not one blood relative—in her life. Sure, she tried to make up for it with her college friend Cassidy’s family, but down deep the crater of emptiness couldn’t be filled.
And, God knew, she’d only managed one long-term relationship with a man in the last six years. If eleven months could even be considered long-term. That alliance, like most in Roni’s life, ended when things started to get…cozy.
Roni didn’t do cozy. Cozy meant comfort and comfort meant suffering when it ended.
Ah, screw it. Roni wrapped her arms around her friend and gave a good squeeze. “Maggie. So good to see you.”
Maggie stepped back, her face lit with excitement. “Girl, you are a sight. I was literally just thinking about you last night. And then Jay came in and distracted me.”
Fully aware of Maggie’s assistant moving past them on her way back to her desk, Roni leaned in. “I bet he distracted you.”
When a woman’s boyfriend was named the sexiest athlete by a major sports magazine, there was a lot to be distracted by.
Maggie let out a laugh that made Roni smile. Girlfriends. This is what it was supposed to be.
Jerking her head, Maggie started walking. “I honestly can’t believe you’re here. Come to my office. Shari, hold my calls, please.”
“You got it, boss.”
Roni followed Maggie down the short corridor to her office. Upon taking over as sheriff, she had immediately given the crumbling office a facelift complete with new tiled floors and light beige walls that warmed the place up.
Once in the office, Maggie closed the door and gestured Roni to a chair. “This is a great surprise. What are you doing here?”
Roni took a seat, sliding her hands over her jeans and then folding them in her lap. “I took a few days off. Figured I’d see Cass and her family. And you. I miss our chats after the task force meetings.”
As the only two women on the task force, they’d bonded over working with an all-male staff.
“I know. I miss you, too. The only other woman on that damned task force and you abandoned me.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. But, you know, when my country called…”
Maggie waved it off. “Listen, if a certain hunky quarterback hadn’t come into my life, I’d probably be in some faraway FBI field office about now.”
Last year, Maggie had been accepted into the FBI’s training academy—apparently a lifelong dream—but when Jayson, Maggie’s boyfriend, moved to North Carolina to play football, she’d decided to bow out of the academy invitation and stay put.
Near the love of her life.
Something Roni couldn’t fathom, mostly because she’d never felt that strongly about a man, but it wasn’t her place to question her friend’s sanity.
So far, Maggie didn’t seem to regret it. And, yeah, a tiny stab of jealousy prompted another reminder of the lack of intimacy in Roni’s life. No family, no hot boyfriend to give up a career for. Nothing but her and the life she’d built. Which, considering she’d come from the foster system, wasn’t a bad life. At all. It was just…lacking.
And most of the time, she was okay with that. Emotional, chaos-inducing entanglements?
She’d pass, thanks.
They spent the next few minutes catching up about life in the CIA, the training Roni had been through, and the last few months in general. When the updates finished, Roni sat back, contemplating how the hell to segue into the assignment she’d been sent to complete.
She needed to just do it. Put it out there and be as honest as she could be without spilling any CIA secrets. And without dragging her friend into an investigation. By the end of this, Roni wanted plausible deniability for Maggie. The room for her to say she knew nothing about Roni being in Steele Ridge on behalf of the CIA.
“Listen, Mags, this isn’t just a social call.”
Maggie cocked her head. “Oh?”
“Obviously, I love seeing you, but I wanted to get your take on something. A case. A murder in your county. I think it might have something to do with Jeff.”
“If it’s the gang shooting, that’s exactly why I was thinking about you last night.”
Of course Maggie was aware of it. Between being sheriff and her work on the task force, it was a no-brainer that she’d be in the know.
“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, on the task force we were investigating the Dragons. And Jeff’s case has never been solved.”
“I know. Something is bugging me. Gang members die every day, right? We have three thousand Dragon members in North Carolina. The chances of it being a link to Jeff are beyond small.”
“But something’s weird.”
“Exactly. I’m not dismissing it, but unless we find some link to Jeff…” Maggie shrugged.
Roni took that as a go-sign. “Is it your case?”
“No. Local PD is handling it. I’ve been briefed, though.”
Roni reached into her tote bag and held up the file Don and Karl had given her. “Have you seen the photos
? The autopsy report? The frangible bullet?”
Maggie’s head dipped forward. “You’ve seen all that? How?” The shock and confusion in her eyes sent another bout of guilt raging.
Roni could easily string together a good story about wanting justice for Jeff—and she most certainly did—but it felt…wrong. Deceptive and…slimy.
She wouldn’t use a good man as an excuse. She’d never considered herself a stellar person. Lord knew, Roni didn’t have the upbringing to learn certain lessons, but one thing she wouldn’t be, not even for the CIA, was disloyal.
She waved the folder. “Yes, I’ve seen them. That frangible bullet has to worry you. It terrifies me. Most of them don’t eat away like that. This? This is more than that, Maggie.”
After ten seconds of staring, Maggie shook her head. “I know. I met with the homicide detective last night. As I said, it’s not my case, but it’s in my county and they wanted to brief me. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Me neither.”
Maggie eyed her. “Does the CIA somehow have skin in this?”
And there it was. The direct question Roni dreaded. Damn Karl for putting her in this position.
Maggie was her friend. A good friend and a solid sheriff. But if her brother was selling these bullets on the street, the agency needed to know. Tipping Maggie off meant tipping Way off, and that Roni wouldn’t do.
Not when people were dying from these bullets.
But she didn’t have to lie to Maggie. Roni set the folder on the edge of Maggie’s desk and tapped it. “Could this guy be part of Jeff’s cigarette smuggling investigation?”
Again, Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll have to look back through all my notes. I have two giant banker’s boxes in storage. I can dig them out and start going through them. There’s a bigger problem, though.”
Bigger than a flesh-eating bullet? “What’s that?”
“After the homicide guy left last night, I was curious about the bullet. I ran what we know through NIBIN.”
The National Integrated Ballistic Information network, better known as NIBIN, was basically the DNA database for firearms and bullets.
“And?”
“This is the fourth case involving one of these frangible bullets. Two were in South Carolina. When you walked in, I was trying to find my brother. I want to see if he can tell me what the hell we’re dealing with here.”
* * *
When Sam knocked on the open door to Way’s workshop, he looked up from the nine-millimeter sitting on the table in front of him. His cousin Reid wanted the scope checked and Way had decided to swap the whole thing out for a new, more advanced model. Give his cousin, a fellow gun enthusiast, an upgrade.
Good breeding firmly in place, Sam stood in the doorway waiting to be invited in. At some point, he’d break her of that habit. Unless he said he didn’t want to be bugged, Way didn’t want to always be telling her to come in.
He didn’t hold out too much hope. Time and again he’d told her to ditch the dress slacks, fancy button-down shirt, and high heels. They were in a goddamn barn, not some city high-rise. Blue bloods. An interesting batch.
“Door’s open,” he said. “Come on in.”
“Good morning. Sorry to interrupt, but Maggie left a message. She’s looking for you.” Sam held up a small stack of papers. “Here are the month-end reports.”
Reports, excellent. He’d rather take a bullet in the eye than spend two hours reading financials. But Sam took pride in getting his finances straightened out, so he’d be a good soldier and review it all. “Thanks. Anything I should be aware of?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Healthy profits. You’re doing much better on controlling your expenses.”
“Considering I have you nagging the hell out of me, are you surprised?”
“Ha. You’ll thank me one day.”
“I thank you today. You’re doing a great job. What did Mags want?”
“She didn’t say. Just asked that you call her. She said she tried your cell, too.”
His sister must have something on her mind if she was hunting him down via Sam. On his way into the workshop, he’d tossed his phone and keys on the desk by the door. Had he even turned the thing on this morning?
He waved at the handgun on the worktable. “I was working.”
She laughed. “I swear, you might be the only person I know who actually shuts the phone off. You don’t just turn the ringer down, you go all the way.”
“The way I see it, nothing I do is so important that people can’t wait an hour. Or two. If it’s an emergency, my family knows where to find me.”
And if he didn’t return Maggie’s call within the hour, no doubt one of them would show up bringing muffins or bagels or some other breakfast item that would serve as an excuse for hunting him down. Plus, these people weren’t dumb. They knew he wouldn’t be the douchebag who gave them crap about interrupting his day when they brought gifts.
His own personal snake pit.
“Waylon!”
Ha. Point made.
His sister’s voice bellowed from the outer office. The reception area. “Back here.”
Maggie appeared in the doorway, spotted Sam, and smiled. “Hiya.”
“I just gave him your message,” Sam said on her way to the door. “I’ll leave you guys alone.”
And hello to the petite brunette following Maggie. The woman had sculpted cheekbones and an exotic look straight off a magazine cover, but she wasn’t some skinny waif. This one had a rack absolutely made for showing off. Something she did amazingly well in the stretchy tank top under her unzipped jacket. The skin-tight jeans only accentuated her curvy figure, and Way’s mind went straight to peeling every stitch of clothing from her.
Maggie pointed at Way. “I called and texted you.”
The woman behind Maggie met his gaze and her full lips slid into a crooked smile. Oh, yeah, she knew the effect she had on men.
Pig that he was, he fell right in line. And didn’t even care that he’d been predictable. That’s what a stunner she was.
He shifted to Maggie. “Phone’s off. I was working.”
“Unbelievable.”
He shrugged. “Some of us aren’t sheriffs and don’t need to check our phones constantly.”
“Hello,” Sam said to the hot brunette as she passed. “I’m Sam.”
The brunette stuck her hand out. “Roni Fenwick. Nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Maggie’s. She’s spoken highly of you.”
Sam gave Maggie an appreciative nod. The two of them were interesting. At times, Way sensed Sam didn’t like sharing her brother with Maggie. With their father out of the picture, Jay had become the male figure in Sam’s life. In true Maggie fashion, his sister had figured out a way to keep peace. For Jay’s sake, she’d said.
On her way out, Sam pointed at a folder on the desk beside the door. “Are these the checks?”
“Yes, ma’am. All signed.”
“Excellent.”
“Look at you,” Maggie said, sarcasm dripping. “An in and an outbox. You turning corporate on me, little brother?”
“I’m working on him.” This from Sam, who closed the door behind her.
“She’s killing me,” Way said.
“She’s running your business.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
They both laughed, but the brunette kept a straight face. Zero reaction. Not even a forced one that’d include her in the joke.
Maggie stepped closer, leading the brunette into his workspace. Whoever the hell she was, Maggie had a comfort level with her. Her outfit didn’t exactly scream law enforcement, but he’d run enough recon missions to know that might be the point. She might be undercover for the sheriff’s department.
Or some other agency.
He took a second to study the worry lines cracking the skin between his sister’s eyebrows. Her job? Loaded with headaches. Not just the criminal kind.
In town the other day, he�
�d found her breaking up a smackdown between two residents arguing over the cigarette smoke ordinance. Exactly how far was ten feet from the building?
Being the literal sort, Maggie had pulled out a tape measure and showed them.
Whatever her salary was, it didn’t come close to covering that bullshit.
Yet, she seemed happy and for that, he was grateful. She made him nuts half the time, but Way loved her. “Sorry I missed your calls,” he said.
“It’s all right. It wasn’t an emergency. But I’ll reiterate that you shouldn’t turn your phone off. There’s a million reasons not to. What if you fall off that motorcycle and wind up in a ditch? How would we find you?”
His sister. The cop. “Mags?”
“What?”
“When’s the last time I fell off my bike?”
She gave him a hateful glare. “It was an example. Not a judgment on your riding skills.”
“I’ll think about it. Now what’s up?”
He knew her. She liked to be up in everyone’s business. If he didn’t get her off this track, she’d come up with a list of things that endangered his life. Then he’d have to march down to the B and start doing shots of whisky.
She set her hand on the brunette’s forearm. “This is Roni. We served on a joint task force together.”
Task Force. Definitely law enforcement.
He held his hand to Roni. “Way Kingston.”
“I know,” she said. “A pleasure.”
She slid her hand into his, gave a solid shake, and pulled back. All business this one.
“I need your opinion on something,” Maggie said. “A shooting.”
He leaned against the worktable and folded his arms. Given his knowledge of weaponry, folks asking questions or hiring him to consult wasn’t unusual. Maggie was no slouch when it came to guns, though. If she needed his input, it had to be something juicy. He eyed Roni for a second. Clearly, she was involved, otherwise his sister wouldn’t have brought her along. “All right. Whatcha got?”
Burning Ache Page 3
