Dead Heat

by Allison Brennan

  Ryan stared wistfully at the kids as they waved their apology. Lucy said, “You miss your boys.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Lucy didn’t know exactly what had happened between Ryan and his second ex-wife, but Nate said it was a combination of Ryan’s job and his ex-wife’s desire for more than Ryan could afford. He didn’t say it that kindly, either, and since the divorce had just been finalized at the beginning of the year, before Lucy arrived, Nate had gone through much of it with his friend.

  Lucy parked in the driveway and they walked up to the house. It was six fifteen, and the street started clearing off as bells were rung and voices raised throughout the neighborhood to bring the kids in for dinner. Lucy smiled, remembering that her mother had a whistle. If you weren’t in the door within five minutes, you had kitchen cleanup duty for the week. Lucy remembered a summer when she was six and her sister Carina was seventeen when Carina had cleanup duty for nine weeks straight. Before that, their older brother Connor had the record at six weeks.

  A handsome ten-year-old boy rode his bike up the driveway and parked it against the wall. Chris was the oldest of the soon-to-be-six Casilla children, and the only boy. “Lucy!” he exclaimed. “Where’s Sean?”

  “He had a meeting,” she said.

  Chris’s face fell.

  “Next time,” she promised.

  Boys loved Sean, and Lucy knew that was because Sean was a kid at heart. Video games, electronics, computers were only part of it. He also played ball, told slightly inappropriate jokes (cleaned up for the religious Casilla clan), and talked to them like people, not children. The last time they were here, Sean had rallied not only the older Casilla kids, but another half a dozen kids in the neighborhood, for a game of street hockey that went on until it was dark. He’d had as much fun as anyone.

  When Lucy saw Sean with kids like Chris, she felt the pang of regret that she was unable to have children. He’d make a great dad.

  Someday, she thought. Someday we’ll adopt.

  But someday was far from now. She was barely used to being responsible for herself; she didn’t want to think about being responsible for anyone else, not yet. Especially someone wholly and completely dependent on her.

  Chris led them inside, where there was organized chaos. Melina, the oldest girl, was setting the large dining room table with the “help” of three-year-old Beth. Nita, Juan’s very pregnant wife, greeted them both warmly, asked about Sean. She offered drinks and told them that Juan was in the kitchen, they should join him.

  Juan had two faces—his professional, serious work profile, and his relaxed, happy family-man face. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt under a bright-red apron. He never dressed in anything less than an impeccable suit at FBI headquarters. His hair wasn’t perfectly combed—the humidity and lack of product made it curl even though he kept it trimmed short. He looked younger than his forty-one years.

  “Lucy, Ryan. So glad you could come.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  “Sean’s busy, and you want to debrief me. You have five minutes. No cop talk at the table.”

  Juan was dishing food into bowls, and Lucy fell into step. She’d done this for years at home. Her father wouldn’t have been caught dead in the kitchen, which was a good thing because on the rare occasions when the colonel did attempt to cook, they ended up with sandwiches or a rare night out for dinner.

  Lucy and Ryan filled him in on the big picture, and then Lucy said, “I want to talk to the Popes tomorrow morning, see if they saw Michael again, and check his room.”

  “Will it be the same as last year?”

  “I don’t know, but they probably kept his belongings. They had planned to adopt him, and they haven’t taken in another foster child since he ran away.”

  “I would do the same.”

  “Donnelly is sending a local team to interview his father in prison, because there might be a connection to Sanchez, but I might want to follow up.”

  Juan glanced at Ryan, then said to Lucy, “Only if you have good reason to believe he has information about Michael’s whereabouts. That would be a full day going to McConnell, interviewing him, getting back. Your time would be better spent here. You don’t have any other leads?”

  “The old Rodriguez neighborhood, which is in Sanchez’s territory. Except—I don’t think he would go there if he was running from Sanchez. Based on the note he left for the Popes, he’s planning to do something specific.”

  Ryan said, “Donnelly thinks the scar on his arm might be a gang tat, but he hasn’t seen it before. It’s not one of the larger, known drug gangs. He’s sending it to his analysts, but we also sent it to Zach.”

  “Good. If the kid is in a gang, he’s not going to turn on them.”

  “He’s barely thirteen,” Lucy said.

  “I’ve faced younger criminals. Keep your mind open, Lucy.”

  She did, she knew what abused kids faced, she knew how killers were created. But she couldn’t forget the way Bella spoke about Michael. There was something else there, something kind and protective in the boy. Lucy needed to find him; she needed to save him. She didn’t believe he was beyond redemption.

  Dinner lasted nearly an hour with rapid-fire conversation and plenty of good food. Juan walked them out while the kids cleared the table. “If you stay much longer, you’ll be roped into a game,” he said.

  “I would,” Lucy said, “but it’s been a long day.”

  “I’m glad you both could come. I know this case is all-consuming, but everyone needs a few hours’ downtime. You’ll come back to the case fresher in the morning.”

  “How long have you known Agent Donnelly?” Lucy asked.

  “Years, mostly by reputation and a few cases that crossed jurisdiction. Is there a problem?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “I meant what I said this morning. Donnelly’s rep is solid, but he’s a maverick. If you have questions about anything, call me, day or night. I mean that, too. I can’t protect my people if I’m kept in the dark.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryan said and shook his hand.

  “Next week, bring your boys with you, Ryan. As you can tell, we always have plenty of food.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Lucy dropped Ryan off at his car at SAPD, then drove home. She pulled into the garage, surprised that Sean’s black Mustang was still gone. She sent him a message that she was home, then went upstairs to the master suite.

  She was hot and tired, but wonderfully satiated from the home-cooked dinner. She called her mom, just to say hi, while her shower warmed up. Rosa Kincaid couldn’t talk long, because they had a houseful of company.

  Going home for Christmas and spending an extra ten days with her family had reminded Lucy what she’d given up when she moved to DC eight years ago.

  Those had been rocky years. She had her family back now, but then it had been so difficult being around them. Every time they looked at her, she knew what they were thinking—what they remembered. About her kidnapping at her high school graduation. Being raped, repeatedly, for the sick enjoyment of perverts who paid to watch her attack on the Internet. And then Patrick’s long coma, and knowing that he had been injured because he was coming to save her.

  Her family tried to hide their pain, but she saw it in their eyes, not just the pain and anger, but the quiet regret, the silent accusations that somehow it was her fault.

  Over time she realized it wasn’t their accusations, but her own. They’d forgiven her—probably didn’t think she needed to be forgiven. She would never completely rid herself of the guilt that part of what happened to her was because she’d been stupid. She’d let herself walk into a trap and she should have known better. The events that unfolded had hurt not only her, but her entire family. Being raped wasn’t her fault, but few rape victims could stop thinking about the if only …

  If only I hadn’t flirted online …

  If only I hadn’t agreed to meet him …
<
br />   If only I’d fought harder …

  If only …

  She shook her head to rid herself of the negative thoughts. She’d worked hard to keep the past in the past and not let it control her life. She was healed, mostly. She wasn’t a victim anymore. She hadn’t been for years. Because of her family. Because of Sean.

  Lucy stripped off her clothes and stepped into the hot shower. It didn’t matter how hot it was outside; she loved the heat and steam of the shower.

  Family, she thought as the water rolled down her body, family was complicated. She loved her family and missed them. But they also knew all her weaknesses and flaws. They loved her in spite of her flaws. Just like the Casillas, the Kincaids were a close group—the tragedies and heartbreak they suffered had brought them closer together.

  Lucy recognized that what she had growing up was special, that some other families could be cruel. Instead of support, or good-natured teasing, weaknesses and flaws could be used against others for manipulation and control. They could pit one member against another. Family was loyal, but how far did that loyalty go? Lucy would do anything for her family—but they would never ask her to do something that was evil. They would never ask her to hurt someone, to break the law—unless it was for a very good reason. A just reason.

  She used to believe in black and white, right and wrong, but sometimes there were gray areas and those gray areas were dependent on the who and what and why. Her brothers worked for a private security company that often tread into gray areas. Sean was the poster child for working in the gray.

  She thought back to some of her decisions, choices she’d made knowing that they could change her future. She’d been up before the Office of Professional Responsibility twice while she was at Quantico because she’d made choices that were right on the one hand, but didn’t conform to the rules on the other. But they were choices she would make again if she had to, because doing what was right had to come before doing what would save her butt.

  It had taken her a long time to get to this point, she thought as she turned slowly under the spray of water. She let it wash over her, burn her skin in a way that both hurt and cleansed.

  A long time to grow up. To forget the pain. To be whole again. To fall in love and live with a man who made her happy in ways she’d never thought she’d see. Though he didn’t admit it, it was a sacrifice for Sean to give up RCK and move to San Antonio with her. He’d wanted to go out on his own, but it would have been easier in a city where he’d grown roots. And part of her was hoping to be assigned to New York because they had friends there—mutual friends they’d cultivated together.

  San Antonio was like being a world away. The crimes were violent, the community poorer; crimes tended more toward drugs and gangs than white collar and the standard homicide. As if any murders were standard. But Lucy knew why she was here—she wanted to be on the Violent Crimes Squad, and there were few positions open since the FBI restructured their priorities after 9/11. She was particularly well suited for the squad, though she could have held her own in cybercrimes. She was the only one in her class of thirty-seven who’d been assigned to violent crimes, and she suspected someone had pulled strings, though no one admitted to it. Her sister-in-law Kate? Her mentor, Dr. Hans Vigo? She didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to ask. In the past it would have greatly bothered her to think she’d gotten special treatment, but she’d learned that sometimes the extra help was necessary. She’d earned it, and wanted it, and if she needed a special recommendation to get this slot, so be it.

  Yeah, she’d done a lot of growing up in the last year.

  The hot water worked miracles on her sore, tired muscles. She scrubbed her body with a soapy loofah, trying to battle back the questions she still had after their busy day of interviews and information. But try as she might, she couldn’t rid her head of the odd T that Bella had drawn of the scar, or tattoo, on Michael’s forearm.

  “Lucy,” she heard Sean call from the bedroom, “it’s me!”

  Sean stepped into the doorway. He was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, no tie. He said, “I didn’t want to startle you.”

  She smiled and slid open the glass door halfway. “I would have waited, but I didn’t know when you’d be home. Why are you all dressed up?” For Sean, he was practically formal.

  “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  She frowned. “I ate at the Casillas’. But Nita made you a plate.”

  “I suspected she would.” He raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty cooked. How long have you been in there?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes maybe. Twenty? These dual showerheads are amazing.”

  “You only now figured that out?” He leaned over and kissed her as she stuck her head out. “The hot water in this old house isn’t going to last if I slip in there with you, though I very much want to.”

  She gave him a slight pout.

  “Okay, you convinced me,” Sean said as he unbuttoned his shirt. “But if the water turns icy cold, don’t get mad at me.”

  “Never,” she said as she watched him strip.

  “You’re smiling,” he said.

  “You’re very nice to look at.”

  “Nice? I’m nice?”

  She laughed and pulled him into the shower. “Extra nice.” She tilted her head up for another kiss. He pushed her wet hair from her face and stared at her, his eyes darkening with a desire she recognized as raw lust. A rush made her heart skip a beat, and her lips parted as he leaned down for the kiss.

  Each time Sean kissed her, it was both familiar and new. There was a deep comfort in his affection, as well as a passion that excited and frightened her. How could her love for this man continue to grow? Would it stop? Was her heart going to burst with her need for him?

  “I’m so lucky to have you,” Lucy whispered.

  “Yes,” Sean said with a half smile, “yes, you are.”

  And with that, he took the fear and turned it to fun. He kissed her again, catching her laugh, reminding her of all the reasons she’d fallen in love with this man.

  He made her smile. He made her laugh.

  But mostly, he made her feel loved.

  “The water is getting cold,” she whispered.

  “It’s gone from scalding to hot,” he said.

  She looked directly in his eyes as her hands moved from around his neck, down his muscular arms, around to his back, and lower. She squeezed his bare butt and leaned into him at the same time.

  “Luce—” He kissed her, then turned off the water.

  He grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it, then picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  Neither of them cared about dripping water or wet sheets. All that mattered was reconnecting after a long day apart.

  * * *

  Sean and Lucy sat on the floor in the family room with a bottle of wine and the remains of the leftovers from the Casillas’ dinner. She picked at his plate as well, nibbling the carnitas, which were a favorite of hers.

  “You know,” she said, “we have a table in the other room. In fact, we have a dining room table, a kitchen table, and a kitchen bar.”

  He grinned. “This is much more fun. A picnic.” Lucy was hardly spontaneous, and Sean loved surprising her.

  She leaned back onto a large grouping of pillows he’d taken off the couch and nursed her glass of wine.

  “This house is too big for us,” she said.

  “Not really.” He looked around. “It’s just that the rooms are big. There’re only three bedrooms.”

  “In the main house. And a library, and a movie room, and a family room, and four bathrooms—”

  “Three and a half.”

  She gave him a stern look, and he kissed her nose. She laughed. “But I love it, because you’re here. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how much I appreciate the huge sacrifice you’ve made to move—”

  “Stop. This is the hundredth time you’ve gotten that guilty look on your face, like I didn’t want to come. I want to be
here. I’m happy. I’m not bored. I love this house because you’re here, and it’s all us. It’s ours. It’s our home. And believe me, I’d much rather be living with you than with your brother.”

  She laughed. “The way you and Patrick traveled you never saw each other.”

  “But having you over whenever I wanted wasn’t easy.”

  “And now I get to stay over every night.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Stay over? This is your house as much as it is mine.” He touched her chin. “You okay?”

  “Of course.”

  She put her wineglass on the table and gathered up the plates. Sean folded up the picnic blanket he’d laid down, then took the plates from her and put them on the table. “Relax, princess. I thought the too-hot shower and mutually fun sexual aerobics had turned you to jelly.”

  “They did.”

  He rubbed her shoulders. “Not anymore.”

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “Don’t stop.”

  He kissed her neck. “Luce, I have to leave town for a couple of days.”

  She frowned. “Washington?”

  He nibbled her ear. “Dallas. Not that far, but too far to drive back and forth all week. It’s a job.”

  “Job?” Her voice caught, and he knew what she was thinking.

  “Not permanent. I’m not totally happy about it, but Duke sent it my way. Patrick is on another assignment, and they need someone with my skill set. Someone is embezzling from the company, and they’ve narrowed it down to a department, but not the individual. They need me to analyze their data and logs, and the only way I can be certain the results aren’t tampered with is to go on-site.”

  “I’ll miss you,” she said.

  He moved his hands up to the base of her skull and put pressure in all the right places to relieve the growing headache. How had he known she was in pain? This connection of theirs was new and exciting, but a lot intimidating. That someone could know her so well, she didn’t have to speak.