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“Ready?” Caleb’s lips brushed her hair. “Everything will be okay.”
She shut her eyes, absorbing his strength.
Last night, they’d slept in an FBI safe house with an agent posted in the living room. The men from Dìleas had been housed elsewhere, also under watch.
She’d spent the night in Caleb’s arms, wondering if it would be their last.
Her lashes lifted. It was time to own her choices—to tell the government everything. Every sordid detail of life with Vincente. Every moment of that horrible night on his yacht.
She would fight for her freedom.
For a life with Caleb.
“I’m ready.” She stepped through the glass doors.
Inside, the blast of air-conditioning hit like an arctic wind, and she was grateful for the long-sleeved button-down and jeans she still wore from the day before. After clearing security, their FBI escort led them to a waiting area lined with framed photographs of Phoenix and, at its center, the FBI seal and motto,Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity.
Caleb’s friends were already there.
Last night’s introductions had been brief. Now, after some sleep, she recalled what she’d learned.
Danny, the adrenaline junkie with shaggy hair and a love of muscle cars. He had an amusing fashion quirk—Hawaiian shirts in eye-searing colors and vintage bowling tops.
The dark-haired Scot, Lachlan. The founder of Dìleas. Handsome but intimidating, until he’d shown her a picture of his wife, Sophia. The love on his face had softened the edge of his ruthlessness.
Nathan—the giant. A harder-edged version of Thor. Terrifying until he’d smiled. His lazy Texas drawl and icy blue eyes had turned warm with humor. He’d ribbed his friends, shown her a picture of his fiancée, Emily, and offered an amused, “Welcome to the family.”
Family?The word lingered.
She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be a member of this circle of men and the women they loved.
Then there was Ryder—Caleb’s direct superior. Blue-eyed with wavy brown hair and a quiet reserve. Caleb had warned her not to compare him to Superman, despite the obvious resemblance to the British actor. He, too, had shown her a picture of his fiancée when she’d asked.
This was Caleb’s family.
Not by blood, but by brotherhood.
A brotherhood she couldn’t ask him to leave.
Even if the government absolved her, she likely had no job to return to on the rez. Not after the chaos she’d brought to their doorstep.
“Doctor Barone?” Special Agent Walton appeared in the doorway. “Come with me.”
Gia wiped sweaty palms on her jeans and stood. She’d waived her right to have a lawyer present—she didn’t want to delay the meeting. And she had nothing to hide. She was prepared to tell them everything.
“I’m going with her.” Caleb gripped her hand.
“Caleb,” Ryder warned.
“She’s not going alone.” Caleb’s jaw was tight, his chest out.
Walton stared, then sighed. “Fine. Assistant Director Caldwell can deal with you.”
He led them down the hall to a windowless conference room—stark and impersonal, with bare walls and a white-tiled drop ceiling. Four men and a woman sat around a long table in conservative suits, their ID badges clipped to pockets or lapels.
Caleb’s arm circled her waist.
A tall man with dark hair silvered at the temples rose.