“A kick in the ass,” Remi muttered under her breath.
“Ms. Ford, is it?” Brice asked, arching an eyebrow. “I presume you two are related.”
“We are,” the chief responded. “Remington is my youngest daughter.”
“How does this situation concern her?” White asked almost flippantly. Brick tensed, ready to take issue with the disrespect, but Special Agent Brice shot her sidekick a cool look that had him shutting up.
“Do you mean besides caring about the violence a man imparted on my friend?”
White was going to get his teeth kicked in if he didn’t watch his mouth. And Brick didn’t mind letting Remi take her shots at him.
“Do you have any other reason for being at this table other than being a hand-holder?” Brice asked.
“Only from the standpoint that I was in the car he ran off the road and plowed through a guardrail, sending us down a cliff in an attempted double homicide. Or the fact that he’s been sending me threats since I came back to the island,” she snapped, coming halfway out of her chair.
Camille laid a hand on Remi’s sleeve.
White jotted down some notes.
“I see,” Special Agent Brice said.
“You bet your ass, you see,” Remi said.
“Remington.” Darlene’s voice was tired.
“This would be the accident on January thirtieth?” Brice asked, shuffling papers in her folder.
“That’s correct,” Camille said. “My husband hacked my phone and discovered that I was planning on leaving him. That Remi was going to help me.”
“The accident that you said occurred because a Ms. Ballard was intoxicated.”
“Remi, my friend and Chief Ford’s daughter, paints under the name Alessandra Ballard. Much like a novelist would use a pen name. Remi was not drunk that night, nor was she driving.”
“But according to the public statement you made—”
Remi stood up fast enough that her chair tumbled over backward. “Now you listen here. I don’t give a shit if you’re special agent of god’s gift to special agents. This man tried to murder us both. He has nothing left to lose. He’s lost his pride, his power, and pretty soon his goddamn seat in the Senate. He skipped out on an arrest this morning. So put your fucking cards on the table, and let’s figure out how to make sure this bastard never sees the outside of a cage again.”
Brick ached to touch her. To tell her how fucking proud he was of his girl. The urge to hold her in one arm while slapping the shit out of the smug junior agent also ranked up there.
He noticed the smile tugging at the corner of his father’s mouth, the straightening of Camille’s shoulders. The pride in Darlene’s cool gaze. Remi inspired that.
Special Agent Brice expelled a breath and sat back in her chair, steepling her fingertips.
“Our investigation into Representative Vorhees is entering its eighteenth month.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Remi slapped the table. “If you people moved faster, Camille wouldn’t have spent three weeks in the hospital, and I could have kept painting without a broken arm.”
Brick moved quickly to stand behind her. He brought his hands to her shoulders and squeezed, sending her a silent message.
“What a cozy community you have here, chief,” White sniped, eyeing Brick and Remi.
“What a douchebag face you have here, junior,” Remi snarled.
“Enough!” Brick’s voice cracked like a whip. “This is my house. These women deserve your respect.”
Special Agent Brice maintained a calculated expression while White looked like he was choking on his tie.
“It started with a complaint filed by a watchdog group with the Office of Congressional Ethics. Until this,” Brice said, tapping a finger on a copy of Chief Ford’s report, “all we had was enough for sanctions. But if Mrs. Vorhees has the evidence she says she has, we are looking at prosecution by the DOJ.”
Darlene shifted in her seat to address Camille directly. “Prosecution at the federal level carries significantly heavier sentences than spousal abuse. You can nail him for both, which I certainly recommend. But this is how we get him out of your life for years, not months.”
Camille took a nearly imperceptible breath. “Let’s begin,” she said.
Two hours later, Brick’s back hurt from standing. Remi had a knee pulled up to her chest and was swinging her other foot like a pendulum under the table. He’d never seen her sit still this long, but she’d yet to budge from Camille’s side.
“So Representative Vorhees used campaign funds to cover expenses for his family’s private jet, for the boat at the lake house, and for personal travel expenses.”
Camille nodded. “Yes. There’s a flash drive in a tampon applicator in the guest bathroom at home. It has the financials I found as well as copies of his emails and travel records.”
Brice shot a look at White, who bounded out of his chair like his ass was on fire. He was already dialing the phone before he ducked out the front door.
Special Agent Brice neatly stacked her papers and returned them to their files. She closed her notebook and turned off her recorder. “Mrs. Vorhees, I thank you for your cooperation. The department appreciates your efforts.”
Brice’s phone rang, and she rose from the table.
“Seriously? In a tampon?” Remi asked Camille when the agent had disappeared. “High five, girl.”
Camille shot her a sly smile. “I learned from the best.”
“That’s where Remi hid her liquor minis when she was a high school senior,” Chief Ford explained to Brick.
Remi gasped. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew. You didn’t ever wonder why they were always so watered down? Or why your cheap-ass whiskey tasted like hot peppers?”
“You diabolical woman.” Remi shook her head in admiration.
“One day you, too, will ruin your own child’s liquor stash,” the chief promised her.
Remi’s gaze landed on Brick and held for a beat. Her cheeks flushed, and she broke eye contact first.
He wondered what the look meant. Was it something she’d consider? A family? With him? Not so long ago, Brick had assumed he’d live out his days as a bachelor. But that was before Remi warmed his bed. There could be a family filling this house. Little devious redheads running up the stairs. A quiet boy on their heels trying to run herd on his sisters.
The images sprang to life so vividly, he could almost hear the ruckus. There was much he had to discuss with Remi.
Special Agent Brice returned to the room, her lips pursed in a grim line. “Senator Vorhees’s plane was met by local law enforcement on the tarmac in Cancun. He was not aboard.”
Brick saw Remi take Camille’s hand under the table. “Then where is he?” she asked.
“We’re following up several leads,” Brice said evasively.
“So you don’t know,” Brick announced, filling in the blanks.
The front door opened, and White stuck his head in. “You got a second?”
Both agents retired to the front porch.
William excused himself to get everyone a round of waters.
Remi wasted no time in running to the window and trying to listen.