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Julia came awake to the sound of Britt and Hew arguing.

“Okay, fine,” Hew said. “I may have rushed to judgment on that one.”

“You took the fucking Concorde jet to judgment, my brother,” Britt countered.

“I know you’re not an aircraft guy. But the Concorde was decommissioned over twenty years ago. Your analogy is dated.”

She hadn’t opened her eyes. So she couldn’t see him do it. But she knew Britt rolled his eyes by the sound of his voice. “Everyone knows that, Hew. Y’all flyboys aren’t as hot as you think you are.”

“Really?” Hew feigned surprise. “I find that hard to believe. I do own a mirror, after all.”

Julia recognized an ongoing game of one-upmanship when she heard it. She and her brothers played all the time. And since she’d only gotten…she went to grab her phone and then remembered she’d chucked it… maybe two hours of sleep, that meant she was cranky, in desperate need of coffee, and in no mood to listen to verbal sparring.

Before Britt could respond, she lifted a hand above the sofa to stab a finger into the air. “Will you two shut up! Some of us can’t stand conversation until we’ve mainlined coffee!”

After their second round of lovemaking, she had re-donned her pajamas and retaken her place on the sofa after removing the doorstop from beneath the bedroom door. She would have loved to remain in Britt’s arms. But she was an FBI agent who was still officially on the clock. She wanted to maintain at least a modicum of professionalism in the eyes of the others, even if that ship had long since sailed when it came to Britt.

She hadn’t expected to get any sleep at all, honestly. But the previous day and the long, luxurious night had caught up with her. At some point, she’d succumbed to the pull of slumber.

Now, she sat up, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and blinked blearily toward the kitchen.

Hew stopped with a mug halfway to his mouth. “Jesus, woman. What does the other guy look like?”

She was a restless sleeper. She always woke up with a rat’s nest for a hairdo. Plus, she could feel the bags under her eyes and the pillow marks cutting lines into her cheek.

“You’re hilarious,” she told him grouchily. “When’s open mic night at the comedy club?”

He made a face and turned to Britt. “She’s not a morning person, I take it?”

Ignoring him, Britt strode from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. When he dutifully placed it on the coffee table, she nearly broke a nail snatching it up.

It was piping hot, thick as motor oil, and strong enough to make her teeth grow hair.

In other words, perfection .

She hummed her appreciation after the first sip.

“Morning.” Knox stumbled out of the bedroom with a yawn wide enough to make his jaw crack. “I smell coffee.”

“Fresh pot on the counter,” Britt informed him.

“Did someone say coffee?” Sabrina entered the living room looking far more rested than she had the day before. She wore jeans and a crisp flannel. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. And her face looked fresh and completely free of pillowcase lines.

Apparently, she wasn’t a restless sleeper.

Grr.

Julia wasn’t the jealous type, but she felt a little punch of petulance that anyone should wake up looking like Sabrina while she woke up looking like she’d gone ten rounds with a hurricane and lost.

Hoping to succor her sour mood with that sweet, sweet cure-all known as caffeine, she took another long sip and watched Hew rush to help Sabrina pull down a mug from the cupboard.

The quiet thanks Sabrina gave him was coupled with a shy…knowing?...look that made Julia lift an eyebrow.

Was something brewing between Cooper Greenlee’s dark-eyed sister and the auburn-haired behemoth? And if something was brewing, was it a foxhole Hemingway thing or something more?

The thought of it possibly being something more made the green-eyed monster hop back on Julia’s shoulder. Why did Sabrina get the guy when all Julia got was laid?

No , she scolded herself. Be grateful for the night you had. You’ll hold the memory dear for the rest of your life and ? —

A loud buzzing cut into her thoughts. She glanced around curiously.

Hew pulled a phone from his pocket and held it to his ear. “Oz, man, what do you know?”

She watched Hew’s serene expression grow increasingly troubled as he listened to whatever was said on the other end of the call. Every instinct she possessed went on high alert, and she’d already stood from the sofa when Hew cursed, “Fuck. How long?” Then he immediately added, “Never mind. They’re here.”

He promptly dropped the phone on the floor and, to Julia’s surprise, began stomping it to bits.

“What in the world?” She blinked. “Who’s here?”

Then she heard it, the subtle whomp-whomp-whomp of helicopter blades slicing through the morning air. Her heart sank.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think to use an encrypted phone.” She pointed to the shattered plastic and twisted metal that lay on the floor at Hew’s feet. “I told you the techs in the bureau could trace?—”

Hew cut her off. “I smashed the phone to make sure your friends don’t try to use it as evidence against Black Knights Inc. And for the record, they didn’t trace us . They traced you .”

“Me?” She blinked incredulously. “How? I yeeted my phone back at the farm and?—”

Again, Hew didn’t let her finish. “Something about your family and a tracking device and a fanny pack. Ozzie kept tabs on online bureau chatter and just saw that your coworkers were coming here.”

Julia felt all the blood drain from her head.

She stubbed her toe on the leg of the coffee table as she raced for the pile of clothes she’d left behind the sofa. Hopping on one foot and cursing up a storm, she snatched her fanny pack off the ground, unzipped it, and used the sensitive pads of her fingers to feel around the pack’s lining.

She screwed her eyes shut when she located the telltale lump of a small tracking device.

“My father,” she breathed, turning to the gathered group and shaking her head apologetically. “He worries, you know? Because this is a dangerous job? And when he bought me this for Christmas, I never thought to?—”

“We don’t have time for explanations. Your friends are here.” Britt silenced her by slashing his hand through the air as Knox began to pace the floor like a trapped animal. Hew pulled a weapon from the back of his pants and carefully placed it on the bar. And poor Sabrina’s eyes were round as saucers and fixed on the front door.

“They’re not my friends ,” Julia insisted. “They’re my colleagues.”

“Whatever. The important part is now it’s going to be up to you to keep my brother alive.” The look on his face was a far cry from the one he’d been wearing the night before.

That look had said he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. This look said he wanted to wring her neck with his bare hands.

And who could blame him?

He’d gone to all this trouble to keep his brother safe and out of the hands of the feds, and now, because of her , all his well-laid plans had gone up in smoke.

“Whatever happens over the next few hours,” he continued, his gaze hard enough to cut, “you don’t let Knox out of your sight. You hear me? We still don’t know who the rat is. We still don’t know if they’ll try to tie up loose ends by killing witnesses. So you better make sure?—"

What little bit of tranquility had remained inside the cabin shattered like glass.

The front door slammed open with an explosive crack, wood splintering, as four tactical team members stormed inside. They were geared head-to-toe in black and Kevlar, and all their weapons were up and at the ready.

“FBI! Everyone down! Faces on the floor! Hands where we can see them!”

Sabrina sprawled on the floor in an instant. Knox was a little slower to drop to his knees and prone himself out on the rug. Hew leisurely folded his legs until he was seated, and then he took his time lacing his fingers behind his head. But Britt? He was the slowest of all.

“Down! Now!” barked the lead agent as he aimed his weapon at Britt’s broad chest. Julia noticed Britt’s T-shirt was printed with the words: Heavy Metal. And beneath that was Iron Man’s face.

“Sure thing, brother.” Britt dropped to his knees. “I was just appreciating the way y’all came busting in here with the guns and jawlines. Very intimidating. Very ooh-rah .”

“This is a mistake!” Julia shouted, hoping her voice cut through the din of the other agents barking orders. “You don’t understand?—”

“Are you okay, ma’am?” asked the agent who had already wrenched Sabrina’s hands behind her back so he could secure them with a zip tie.

“I’m fine. This isn’t what?—”

Dillan burst through the open door. “Oh, thank god!” He raced to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. To her surprise, there was real relief in his eyes.

Under other circumstances, she would’ve teased him for his worry. Under these circumstances, she needed him to understand that cuffing and stuffing Britt and the others was a mistake.

Before she could get out a word of explanation, however, Dillan continued. “We spent half the night looking for you. And then, when we couldn’t find you and had to inform your family, your dad told us?—”

“I know what he told you. I know what he did. But, Dillan, listen. I have to make sure you understand what’s?—”

Agents Keplar and Maddox marched inside, looking windblown and angry. And just like that, the little cabin was packed to the seams. Julia didn’t think one more body could squeeze inside.

“Ouch!” Sabrina cried when the agent who’d cuffed her dragged her to her feet by wrapping a hard hand around her upper arm.

“Be gentle with her, you fucker!” Hew shouted, his face as red as his hair. His next words were muffled because an agent shoved him face-first into the rug. A second later, Hew’s hands were pulled behind his back. A zip tie hissed tight around his thick wrists until the plastic bit into his skin.

“All secure,” confirmed the agent who’d cuffed Britt.

Britt was still on his knees, his blue eyes shooting daggers at Julia and prompting her to lift her voice above the chaos again. She did exactly that.

“Everybody, stop talking! Stop moving!” she screamed loud enough to fray a vocal cord.

That had every eye in the room landing on her. On her rat’s nest hair. On her borrowed flannel pajamas—somehow, she was the only one still in sleepwear.

Awesome. Way to look professional, Jules.

Pushing her hair out of her face and pulling her shoulders back, she turned her attention first to her partner and then to the agents from South Carolina.

“There’s no need for this.” She waved a hand to indicate the four people trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys. “Everyone in this room is innocent and will come with you willingly.”

“Innocent?” Agent Keplar sputtered. “How the hell can you know?—”

“Because that ”—Julia interrupted and pointed to Sabrina—“is Cooper Greenlee’s sister. And she’ll be happy to confirm she was there the night her brother was killed. Knox Rollins wasn’t the one to do it. A cartel member named Eddy Torres was.”

She pinned her gaze on Agent Keplar before delivering the coup de gr?ce. “Your joint sting operation has a fox in the henhouse. Someone tipped off the cartel and told them who Rollins and Greenlee were actually working for.”

Keplar’s jaw tightened. But Julia couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or anger or mental machinations.