“This isn’t me going off to fight your war. We’re partners in this. And we’ve got to play to our strengths. Which means I go break the bad guy’s face while you keep Camille in one piece. She needs you right now. She’s minutes from falling to pieces. That’s why she came to you. Because you’re the strong one. So let me fight the enemy while you protect your friend.”
She glared at him, then rolled her eyes. “Damn it. You’re really good at that.”
He pulled her into his chest, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the busy bullpen around them. “Yeah? Just wait till I ask my big question.”
“Brick, I swear to God, if you turn it into something like ‘Remington Honeysuckle Ford, will you get tacos with me tonight?’ I will be ordering an extra large body bag and digging a real big hole in the Grand Hotel’s rose garden.”
He ran a hand gently over her face. A sweet, soft, soothing touch. “Are you telling me you’d turn me down for tacos?”
She felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Of course not. I’m not an idiot. I’d eat the tacos and then bury your body.”
“You’re a hell of a woman, Remi.”
“Yeah. Yeah. And you’re my big brawny man mountain who had better make Warren Vorhees regret ever laying a hand on a woman.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic. But I still like the sound of it.”
Her flirtatious retort was cut off by the station door flying open. In strolled two scowling suits. The first, a woman, long and lean in a boxy polyester suit the color of horse shit. The second was a baby-faced man who looked like he’d practiced his scowl in the mirror and wouldn’t be able to grow facial hair if he tried.
“Who are they?” Remi asked.
“Feds,” Brick growled.
According to every cop TV show she had ever watched, a territorial pissing match was about to occur. One that had probably never happened in the history of Mackinac Island.
“Oh, boy,” she said.
Brick gripped her arm and steered her toward the side door. “You’re going home.”
“But I want to watch my mom yell at these guys.” Remi pouted.
“I’ll re-enact it for you later,” he promised.
She heaved a sigh. “Fine. But I want you to do the facial expressions and the accents,” she insisted.
“God, I love you.” Heedless of the audience, he grabbed her by the chin and kissed the hell out of her.
A few of the other officers who weren’t staring down the suits whistled their approval.
“Don’t forget to come home this time,” she said when he’d pulled away and her head stopped spinning.
“I can’t go another night without you.”
She started for the door, but Brick stopped her. “Turk? You mind walking Remi home?”
“I can get myself home,” she scoffed.
Carlos jumped up from his desk. “Sure thing,” he said.
“What did we just talk about not even five minutes ago?” Brick demanded gruffly.
“I don’t really recall. I was too busy thinking about you naked.”
“You’re evil.”
“Have fun with that hard-on, big guy,” she said, tapping him in the balls and breezing out the door with Carlos Turk on her heels.
50
Special Agent Jana Brice was an ambitious pain in the ass. Her partner, Junior Agent Harold White, was just plain annoying. Fishing for a pissing contest and flashing his Department of Justice badge all over the fucking place. Brick disliked them both on sight.
Fortunately he didn’t have to play nice with them. That was up to the chief who, after the first five minutes, looked like she was going to choke on her own tongue from restraining herself.
“I’m guessing since you two showed up on my doorstep eighteen hours after my little report hit your desk that you’ve already got an investigation going,” Darlene mused.
White slouched in his chair as if he were a bored parent at a band concert. Meanwhile Brice sat ramrod straight, flat brown eyes locked on Darlene’s.
Brick was used to men’s pissing matches. The female element made the contest more subtle and more terrifying.
“We need to speak with Mrs. Vorhees as soon as possible,” Special Agent Brice announced.
Chief Ford eyed Brick for a beat. “That can be arranged. While my sergeant here makes arrangements, you can talk to me about what kind of protection you can offer my witnesses.”
There was a special territorial emphasis on the “my” that had Brick’s lips quirking. He left the office and dialed his father’s phone number.
“Brick!” Once again, William sounded delighted that his son was calling. In the background, he could hear the happy chatter of women. The normalcy of it loosened the knots in his gut. He once again marveled that in the span of less than two months, he’d gone from being a bachelor living alone to sharing his house with so many people they’d blown a fuse with too many hair dryers going at the same time.
“Dad, I’m going to be swinging by the house with a couple of federal agents. They want to talk to Camille and Remi and probably you.”
“Okay,” his father said, waiting.
“I wanted to give you a heads up in case there’s any reason why you wouldn’t want to be questioned by an agent.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Are you worried about your old man?” William asked.
“No. I’m just giving you an opportunity to not be there if there’s going to be some kind of…conflict.”
“Son, I’ve been on the straight and narrow for years now. But I appreciate the concern. I’m more than ready to do my part to bring that son of a bitch to justice.”
“Okay then,” Brick said, not knowing what else to say. “I guess I’ll be by within the hour.”
“We’ll be ready,” William promised.
Forty-five minutes later, Brick stood in his own dining room while Special Agent Stick Up Her Ass and Junior Agent Compensating for a Small Dick faced off against Camille, his father, and Remi. Chief Ford sat at the head of the table.
Magnus and his new buddy Mega had been relegated to the backyard after hissing and barking at the feds.
Remi, an excellent judge of character, was already pissed off at something one of the agents had said.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I missed the part where you expressed concern to my friend here about the abuse she’s suffered for years at the hands of a monster. You kind of just jumped straight into the ‘tell me about the money’ part,” Remi said sweetly.
Brick hid his smile as Darlene coughed subtly into her hand.
“Of course we have great sympathy for Mrs. Vorhees’s…” Brice’s chilly gaze flicked over Camille’s bruised face. “…situation. But our agency isn’t interested in domestic matters.”
“Right, because money is more important than human life,” Remi purred.
Like mother, like daughter.
“Mrs. Vorhees,” White began, “Chief Ford sent us some interesting information regarding your husband and his use of campaign funds. We’re going to need you to elaborate on what you told her.”
Camille nodded, the consummate hostess despite her battered face. “Of course, Agent White,” she said. “Can we offer you two anything to drink while you’re here? Coffee? Tea?”