Page 110 of After All The Wreckage

As we got out of our car, they did as well. Two women. One I knew—Sheila. A decade ago, she’d been a new agent, fresh-faced with her brown eyes shimmering in equally brown skin. Now there was a layer of confidence about her that had nothing to do with the suit she was wearing even though it was nearing midnight.

The person with her was in an outfit not far off from mine—black jeans and a black leather jacket—but a pair of royal blue cowboy boots were on her feet instead of my heavily buckled motorcycle ones.

Nan looked startled at first, but then her back went stiff as they approached. “This is not the time. I just lost my daughter. Rory just lost her mother. Whatever you have to ask or say can wait a day or two.”

Sheila’s lips twisted in regret. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Marlowe, it can’t.”

I put a hand on Nan’s arm. I needed to talk to them. If I was going to bring the men behind this to justice, I needed these two women and their resources.

“It’s okay, Nan,” I said.

We let them inside, I punched the long-ass code into the alarm, and we headed back toward the kitchen. I poured two shots of bourbon for Nan and me and looked at the two agents. “Want a glass?”

Sheila shook her head, but the other woman said, “Sure.”

I handed the woman her drink, taking in her long dark hair, hazel eyes, and thick brows. Her cheekbones were high and sharp. “And you are?”

“This is—” Sheila started only to have the woman interrupt her.

“G. Just call me G.”

“And you work for the FBI?”

Neither woman responded, and I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or impressed. Undercover then.

“You’re familiar with the Lovatos, I take it?” I asked.

“Painfully,” G responded.

“We have some questions about what happened today. What you know. How Gage Palmer is involved,” Sheila said.

The other woman looked over at Nan. “I’m sorry, but I’d really prefer it if you weren’t here for this.”

Nan bristled again. “This is my home, my granddaughter?—”

“It’s probably for the best, Nan,” I said. “The less you know, the better.”

I would have taken them into my makeshift office, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hand over my corkboard to these women, and I could guarantee they’d want it. They’d want it all. Here I could control what I gave them.

Nan glared at us. I put my drink down and pulled her to me, hugging her tightly. “I love you,” I whispered. “Please. I need to do this.”

She squeezed me back, tight and full of love that had me swallowing back more tears. Then, she let me go, downed her drink, and left the kitchen without another word.

I was exhausted. My body ached. My soul ached. But if I sat down, I might never get up again, and I couldn’t afford to rest. Not yet. So I stood at the counter and told them what I could about my mom’s accident, Casada, Argento Skies, Dunn, and West.

When it came to Gage and Monte, I held back the psychic piece. It wasn’t my place to tell, and I doubted they’d believe it. Instead, I told them Monte had known Demi was seeing Dunn, and he’d gone to try to find her. I ended with the first of my failures, telling them I didn’t know my mom’s case was relatedto Monte’s until the trail twirled around Argento Skies and Walden.

The women asked a few questions as I went along, but mostly they just listened.

“How much trouble are Gage and I in?” I asked after silence had settled uneasily in the room.

Sheila shot a glance at G. “At the moment, none. We can’t afford to have any of this come out. It puts a longtime operation at risk.”

“You’re undercover,” I said to G.

She didn’t respond.

“Just tell me you know the asshole they hired to pull these jobs. My mom…” I swallowed back the emotions. “And Walden.”