“Sorry,” he said, not an ounce of apology in his voice. “Can I come over?”
“No.”
“It’s about Maddox’s kid brother.”
That gave me pause. “What about him?”
Sawyer enjoyed having my full attention. “Did you read the file?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes, Sawyer. Stop wasting my time.”
“Did you read the part about Benny trying to employ Travis? The S.A.C. ordered Maddox to make his brother an asset. He has an in no one else does.”
“I know this already.” I didn’t want to let him in on the fact that Travis had already been slated for recruitment. My gut told me to keep that to myself.
“Did you also know that it’s a shit idea? Abby Abernathy is the way to go.”
“She doesn’t get along with her father. Travis is the more viable choice.”
“She whisked Travis off to Vegas and lied about the alibi. Trenton was at the fight. He knew his brother was there. The whole family was in on it.”
“Except Thomas.”
He sighed in frustration and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s Thomas now?”
I glared at him.
“I’ve been telling Thomas for a year that we should use Abby. She would be a better asset.”
“I disagree,” I said simply.
He scooted to the edge of the couch and held out his hands. “Just…hear me out.”
“What is the point? If Travis finds out we’ve coerced his wife, the operation will implode.”
“So, the better option is to bring him, the unstable one, on as an asset?” he said, deadpan.
“I think Maddox knows his brother, and he is the lead on this. We should trust him.”
“You’ve known him for a week. You trust him?”
“No, not even a week. And yes. You should, too.”
“He’s too close to this case. This is his brother. Hell, even the director is too close. For some unknown reason, he’s practically adopted Maddox. They should all know better. This is not me being a jackass. This is reason, and it’s making me crazy that no one is listening. Then, you come in—someone unattached and put into a place of authority. I thought I finally got my chance, and I’ll be damned if Maddox isn’t actively keeping me away from you.”
“I’ll give you that,” I said.
“What’s worse is the louder I am, the less they hear.”
“Maybe you should try speaking more softly.”
Sawyer shook his head. His smoldering blue eyes snuffed out when he looked away from me. “Good God, Lindy. You need some help unpacking?”
I wanted to send him on his way, but an extra set of hands would make it go so much faster. “Actually—”
He held up his hands again. “I know my reputation at the office. I admit to half of it—okay, most of it. But I’m not a dick all the time. I’ll help you and go home. I swear.”
I glared at him. “I’m a lesbian.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Right, but the chances are better for me to become a lesbian than for me to have sex with you.”
“Understood. Although I find you extremely attractive—I won’t deny that in the real world, I’d try my damnedest to take you home from the bar—you should know that, even though I am a jerk and a man-whore at times, I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t sleep with my boss.”
Sawyer’s comment made my cheeks flush, and I turned my back to him. His Southern charm wasn’t lost on me even though reason told me he was a waste of time for any woman wanting respect or a relationship.
Sawyer might be a womanizer, and he might even be an asshole most of the time, but he had no problem with transparency. Kept at arm’s length, Sawyer could actually be an asset and maybe even a friend.
I pointed to the kitchen. “Let’s start there.”
I WOKE UP TO A NEARLY CLEAN BEDROOM. All my clothes were either hanging in the closet or folded and put away in the dresser drawers. Sawyer and I had managed to unpack every box and even clean up most of our mess—aside from some packing nuts and empty boxes that we’d torn down and stacked by the front door.
Wearing a gray sweatshirt and navy lounge pants, I wrapped my fuzzy white robe around me and then opened my bedroom door, looking out into the kitchen and living room. They were one in the same, separated only by the kitchen counter that doubled as an island and possibly a breakfast bar.
My condo was small, but I didn’t need much room. The thought of having a whole space to myself made me want to take in a deep breath and spin around like Maria in The Sound of Music—until I remembered that I wasn’t alone.
Sawyer was lying on my couch, still asleep. We’d blazed through two and a half bottles of wine before he passed out. One of his arms was draped over his face, covering his eyes. One socked foot was on the floor, likely to keep the room from spinning. I smiled. Even drunk, he’d kept his promise not to make a pass at me, and he’d earned an infinite amount of respect by the time I left him on the couch for my room.
Poking through my pathetically stocked cabinets, I was trying to find something to eat that wouldn’t offend my hangover. Just as I reached up for the box of saltine crackers, someone knocked on the door.
I padded over in my pink-and-white gingham slippers—a Christmas present from my mother the year before. Damn, I thought. Need to call her today.
Releasing the chain lock and dead bolt, I turned the knob and peeked through the crack in the door.
“Thomas,” I said, surprised.
“Hey. I’m sorry for ditching you last night.”
“You didn’t ditch me.”
“You’re just waking up?” he said, his eyes pouring over my robe.
I pulled the belt tighter. “Yeah. I kept the party going while I unpacked.”
“Need some help?” he asked.
“No, I’m finished.”
His eyes danced around a bit, his investigator senses kicking in. I’d seen that expression so many times before.
“You finished all that unpacking by yourself?”
My hesitation to answer prompted him to touch his hand to the door and slowly push it open.
His anger was instant. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
I returned the door to its former position. “He’s sleeping on the couch, Thomas. Jesus, do the math.”
He leaned in and whispered, “I’ve been on that couch before, too.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I said.
I pushed the door to shut it, but Thomas held it open.
“I told you if he bothered you to let me know.”
I crossed my arms. “He wasn’t bothering me. We had a nice night.”
His eyes flickered, and his brows pulled inward. He took a step toward me and kept his voice low as he said, “If you’re worried about how you’re perceived, you shouldn’t have let Sawyer spend the night.”
“Is there something you need?” I asked.
“What did he say to you? Did he discuss the case?”
“Why?”
“Just answer the questions, Lindy,” he said through his teeth.
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s anything he hasn’t said to you.”
“He wants to make Abby an asset.”
I nodded.
“And?” he asked.
I was surprised that he was asking me.
“Your brother won’t allow it. Besides, I don’t think she can be trusted. According to the file, she has helped her father numerous times despite their volatile relationship. She won’t turn him in, except maybe for Travis. We’d have to arrest him first though. Then, maybe she’d play.”
Thomas sighed, and I inwardly cursed myself for thinking aloud.
“You would have to arrest him,” Thomas said.
“What do you mean?”
Thomas nearly whispered, “It would blow my cover.”
“You’re not undercover. What the hell are you talking about?”
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Thomas shifted his weight. “It’s hard to explain, and I won’t while I’m in the hall and while Sawyer is pretending to be asleep on your couch.”
I turned, and one of Sawyer’s eyes popped open.
He sat up, grinning. “To be fair, I was asleep until you knocked on the door. This couch is comfy, Lindy! Where did you get it?” he asked, pushing down on the cushions.
Thomas opened the door wider and pointed to the hall. “Out.”
“You can’t kick him out of my condo,” I said.
“Get the fuck out!” Thomas yelled, the veins in his throat bulging.
Sawyer stood up, stretched, and then grabbed his things off my long rectangular coffee table, his keys scraping against the glass as he did so. He stood between me and the doorjamb, just inches from my face. “See you Monday morning.”
“Thanks for the help,” I said, trying to sound apologetic while still remaining professional. It was an impossible balance.
Sawyer nodded to Thomas and then left us for the hallway. Once the elevator opened and then closed again, Thomas looked at me with a stern glare.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, stop. You are trying too hard.”
I walked off, and Thomas followed me inside.
I retrieved the saltines from the cabinet and held them out. “Breakfast?”
Thomas seemed confused. “What?”
“I’m hungover. Crackers are for breakfast.”
“What do you mean, I’m trying too hard?”
I looked up at him. “You like me.”
“I…you’re okay, I guess,” he said, stumbling over his words.
“But you’re my boss, you don’t think we should date, so now you’re scaring away any interested parties.”
“That’s quite a theory,” he said.
I pulled apart the plastic package, put a stack of saltines on a plate, poured a glass of tepid water, and used the counter for a table. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“You’re not wrong. But you’re emotionally unavailable, remember? Maybe I’m just doing Sawyer a favor.”
The crackers crunched between my teeth, and the cotton mouth I was experiencing from too much alcohol became worse. I pushed the plate away and took a drink of water.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on Sawyer. He’s just being a team player. You’re trying to save your brother. This is important to you. For whatever reason, your family doesn’t know you’re a fed, and now, you’re forcing your brother to join the ranks. We all get it, but no need to piss on every idea your team brings you.”
“You know, Liis, your observations aren’t always correct. Sometimes, things go deeper than what you see on the surface.”
“The reasons leading to the origin of the problem aren’t always simple, but the solution always is.”
Thomas sat on the couch, looking distraught. “They don’t get it, Liis, and you definitely don’t get it.”
My tough shell melted at the sight of his tough shell melting. “I might if you explain it to me.”
He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hand. “She knew this would happen. That’s why she made him promise.”
“Who’s she? Camille?”
Thomas looked up at me, completely pulled out of his line of thought. “What the hell made you think of her?”
I walked the ten feet to the couch and sat next to him. “Are we going to work together on this or not?”
“We are.”
“Then, we have to trust each other. If something is between me and getting the job done, I remove whatever it is.”
“Like me?” he asked with a half smile.
I recalled our argument in the fitness room and wondered how I’d found the courage to tell the ASAC to get out of my way. “Thomas, you have to fix this.”
“What?”
“Whatever is messing with your head. Sawyer seems to think you’re too close to this case. Is he right?”
Thomas frowned. “Sawyer has wanted this case since I brought it to the supervisor. He wanted it when I was promoted to supervisor, and he wanted it when I was promoted to ASAC.”
“Is it true? Were you promoted because of the break you got in the case?”
“Travis dating Abernathy’s daughter?”
I waited for his answer.
He looked across the room, his expression somber. “For the most part. But I’ve also worked my ass off.”
“Then, quit screwing around, and let’s bring these guys in.”
Thomas stood and began to pace. “Bringing them in means nailing them, and the easiest way to do that is to use my little brother.”
“So, do it.”
“You know it’s not that easy. You can’t be that naive,” Thomas snapped.
“You know what has to be done. I’m not sure why you’re making it so hard.”
Thomas thought about that for a moment and then sat next to me again. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands, and then he closed his eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No,” he said, his voice muffled.
I sighed. “Do you really not want to talk about it? Or is this where I demand that you do?”
He let his hands fall to his lap, and he sat back. “She had cancer.”
“Camille?”
“My mother.”
The air in the room became heavy, so much so that I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take a breath. All I could do was listen.
Thomas’s eyes were fixed on the floor, his mind trapped in a bad memory. “Before she died, she spoke to each of us. I was eleven. I’ve thought about it a lot. I just can’t”—he took a deep breath—“imagine what it was like for her—trying to tell her sons everything she wanted to teach us over a lifetime, but having to do so in just a few weeks.”
“I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”
Thomas shook his head. “Every word she said, even every word she tried to say, is branded into my memory.”
I leaned back against the cushion, my head propped by my hand, listening as Thomas described how his mother had reached out for him, how beautiful her voice had been even though she could barely speak, and how much he knew she’d loved him, even in her last moments. I thought about what kind of woman must have raised a man like Thomas along with four other boys. What kind of person could say good-bye with enough strength and love to last her children the rest of their childhoods? His descriptions of her left a knot in my throat.
Thomas’s eyebrows pulled together. “She said, ‘Your dad is going to take this hard. You’re the oldest. I’m sorry, and it’s not fair, but it’s up to you, Thomas. Don’t just take care of them. Be a good brother.’”
I rested my chin on my hands, watching the various emotions scroll across his face. I couldn’t relate, but I definitely empathized, so much so that I had to resist wrapping my arms around him.
“The last thing I said to my mother was that I’d try. What I’m about to do to Travis doesn’t feel like trying, not one fucking bit.”
“Really?” I asked, dubious. “All the work you’ve done on this case? All the strings you had to pull to get Travis recruited instead of sent to prison?”
“My dad is a retired police detective. Did you know that?” Thomas looked at me with his dark hazel eyes. He was neck-deep in his past, family baggage, guilt, and disappointment.
I wasn’t sure how much worse his story could get. Part of me was afraid he was going to admit to being abused.
Hesitant, I shook my head. “Did he…hit you?”
Thomas’s face screwed into disgust. “No. No, nothing like that.” His eyes lost focus. “Dad checked out for a few years, but he’s a good man.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“It was right after she spoke to me for the last time. I was crying in the hallway, just outside the bedroom door. I wanted to get it all out, so the boys wouldn’t see me. I heard Mom ask Dad to quit his job at the station, and she made him promise that he’d never l
et us follow in his footsteps. She had always been proud of him, of his job, but she knew her death would be hard on us, and she didn’t want Dad in a line of work that could make us orphans. Dad loved the job, but he promised. He knew Mom was right. Our family couldn’t take another loss.”
He rubbed his thumb on his lips. “We came too close with Trenton and Travis. Along with Abby, they almost died in that fire.”
“Does your dad know?”
“No. But if something had happened to them, he wouldn’t have survived it.”
I touched his knee. “You’re good at being a federal agent, Thomas.”
He sighed. “They won’t see it that way. I spent the rest of my childhood trying to be a grown-up. I lost a lot of sleep trying to think of something else to be. I couldn’t let my dad break his promise to her. He loved her too much. I couldn’t do that to him.”
I reached for his hand and held it in mine. His story was so much worse than I’d thought. I couldn’t imagine how much guilt he carried around with him every day, loving the job he wasn’t supposed to have.
“When I decided to apply for the Bureau, it was the hardest, most exciting thing I’d ever done. I’ve tried to tell them so many times, but I just can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell him. If you truly believe he won’t understand, then don’t. It’s your secret to keep.”
“Now, it’s going to be Travis’s secret to keep.”
“I wish”—I put my other hand on top of his—“you could see this the way I do. You’re protecting him the only way you can.”
“I potty-trained Travis. I bathed him every night. My dad loved us, but he was lost in his grief. For a while after he got his new job, he used to drink until he passed out. He’s made up for it. He apologizes all the time for taking the easy way out. But I raised Trav. I bandaged his scrapes. I got in so many fights over him and fought next to him. I can’t let him go to prison.” His voice broke.
I shook my head. “You’re not. The director agreed to recruit him. He’s home free.”
“Do you understand what I’m dealing with here? Trav will have to lie to our family and his wife, like I’ve done. But I chose this, and I know how hard it is, Liis. Travis doesn’t get a choice. Not only will Dad be disappointed, but Travis will also be undercover. Only the director and our team will know. He is going to have to lie to everyone he knows because I knew his connection to Benny could get me this promotion. I’m his fucking brother. What kind of person does that to his own brother?”
Beautiful Redemption (Maddox Brothers #2) Page 8
