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Northwestern Memorial Hospital

Eight days later…

Julia came awake to the sound of her brothers’ bickering.

“Stop giving me the evil eye,” Sean, her middle brother, said. “I think it’s a law or something that you can only use it if you’re Italian. And last I checked, we’re Irish.”

“I’m not giving you the evil eye,” Patrick, her oldest brother, countered. “I’m looking at you with pity because all this bluster is obviously you compensating for an embarrassingly tiny set of sex organs.”

“Ha!” Sean snorted. “Please. I’m hung like a horse. It runs in the family. Too bad that particular gene skipped you , though.”

“I hope both your lives are plagued by stray Lego pieces, wet socks, and chronic hangnails,” Oscar, her youngest brother, interjected.

“Oh, ho!” Patrick crowed. “Lord Dickbreath of Doucheville has deigned to join the conversation.”

“You see this?” Oscar asked, and Julia cracked a lid to discover that her youngest brother was flipping off her oldest brother. “This is my asshole antenna. I’m happy to report you’re coming in loud and clear, Pat.”

Patrick frowned. “I’m a ball’s hair away from breaking that antenna.”

“And I’ll tear you both new assholes you can fit entire deep-dish pizzas in,” Sean declared, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Usually, Julia appreciated the middle school banter of her overgrown brothers. But her doctor had been slowly weaning her off her high-powered pain medications in preparation for discharging her later in the day. As a result, the wound through her shoulder had grown teeth that relentlessly gnawed at her. The IV needle in the back of her hand smarted and burned. And to top it all off, she was working on a nagging headache.

All that to say, she could do without the name-calling and dick jokes.

“Will you three shut up?” She wrestled with the pillow behind her head in an effort to sit up. “I’m in sorry enough shape as it is. I don’t need visuals of your nether regions dancing in my head.”

As a group, her brothers raced to her bedside. Sean pushed the button that folded the bed like a taco shell to aid in her bid to get vertical. Patrick tucked the flimsy, over-washed hospital sheet tighter around her socked feet before pulling the quilt their mother had brought from home over her lap. And Oscar patted her hand solicitously.

She could smell their Old Spice deodorant. She wasn’t sure if it was a firefighter thing or a Southsider thing, but most of the men she’d grown up around insisted on that brand. And thus, they all smelled like spice and cedarwood.

But it’s better than the overpowering scents of bleach and antiseptic , she thought, feeling sick and tired of being sick and tired in the hospital. She wanted to go home. Wanted her bed and her animals and her Keurig.

“How are you feeling?” Sean asked, brushing her hair back from her face and wrinkling his nose when his fingers came away greasy.

“I feel like I’ve been shot.” The look she gave him was withering. “And I feel like I haven’t showered in a week.”

The sponge bath the nurse had given her had been glorious. But the lovely woman hadn’t touched her hair, and that was what needed water and soap the most.

Her mother had promised to help her wash her greasy scalp and ratted mop in the kitchen sink once she was home and ready to tackle the task.

“That’s because you haven’t showered in a week,” Oscar supplied helpfully.

Her withering look was transferred to her youngest brother. “I know that. I was being sarcastic.”

Never one to miss a chance to razz one of his brothers, Patrick quickly lifted a hand to shade his eyes. “Your stupidity is blinding me, Oscar. Please turn it off.”

“Never tell me to hide my light under a bushel, Pat.” Oscar’s smile said he was quite pleased with that comeback.

“Ugh.” Julia waved her hand in front of her face. “Back up. All of you. There’s so much testosterone flying around me right now that I feel like I’m sitting inside a testicle.”

“Is this a bad time?”

The four siblings turned to find Agent Dillan Douglas standing in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual tailored suit. His eyebrows formed two perfect arches above the lenses of his sunglasses before he pulled them off his face and smiled at the gathered group.

“God, no.” Julia shook her head. “Come in. Come in.” She turned to her brothers. “And you three, go away. FBI business and whatnot.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a big shot. We get it.”

“It’s more like I’m tired of being fussed over. I swear, you guys are worse than Mom.”

Oscar fluffed imaginary hair. “I take that as a compliment. Mom’s the best.”

“Shoo!” She waved them out and waited until they’d lumbered through the door before motioning for her partner to pull up the hard, plastic chair beside the bed.

Dillan scooted close enough to place a hand on her forearm. “You’re being discharged today?”

“So they say.” She winced when she moved her injured arm into a more comfortable position. “Quite honestly, I think they’re kicking me out so my family will stop using this place as a second home.”

Dillan’s lips twitched. “I heard your father nearly came to blows with the head nurse that first night when she tried to force everyone out of your room.”

Julia made a face. “Dad’s been sleeping in that chair.” She hitched her chin toward the uncomfortable-looking armchair pushed into the corner. “And they had to bring in a cot for Mom. As for those three?” She inclined her head toward the empty doorway where her brothers had disappeared. “When they haven’t been on shift, they’ve been here, driving the hospital staff crazy.”

“Not to mention the Black Knights.”

That had her blinking at him. “What?”

“Yup.” He nodded. “Those few days, this room was packed to the gills with well-wishers from BKI.” He pointed to all the vases that lined the windowsill and the little table beside her bed. “What? Did you think it was your family who turned this place into a flower shop?”

Honestly? Yeah. Or, rather, she hadn’t really thought about it.

Her eyes scanned the flowers now, and she saw cards attached to little plastic sticks. Were any of them from Britt? And, if so, what had he written?

A little bubble of hope formed in her throat. It made her voice sound full when she said, “I…I had no idea.”

He nodded. “You were pretty out of it. And then when it became clear you were going to make it, your mother, in the nicest way possible, ” he quickly added. “Well, she told those of us who aren’t family to bug off and give you time to heal.” He widened his eyes. “I see where you get it from. She’s terrifying.”

A chuckle burbled in the back of her throat as she imagined her diminutive mother standing with her hands on her hips and issuing decrees like a monarch. Then, she grimaced. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts when I laugh.”

“Right.” He nodded solemnly. “Only serious topics from here on out.”

She wanted to ask him if Britt had been in attendance when the Black Knights visited. She wanted to ask if he had been in attendance if he’d seemed overly worried about her, or just the right amount of worried. You know, like a friendly amount of worried as opposed to a more than friendly amount of worried. But she didn’t want to sound desperate.

And considering Britt owed her nothing, and considering she’d only agreed to that one night, it wasn’t worth opening herself up to Dillan’s speculation.

Plus, she needed to stop thinking about Sergeant Britt Rollins. She needed to stop dreaming about him.

For three nights now, she’d been plagued by soft, wonderous fantasies of the two of them making coffee together in the kitchen, putting ornaments on a tree in the living room come Christmas, and snuggling by a fire while her animals lounged around them.

She blamed the illusions on the pain meds. Because the alternative was that it’d only taken one night for her to fall head over heels in love, and she refused to allow that to be true.

It would be too sad, too… torturous.

It has to be the pain meds , she silently assured herself. And now that I’m done with the meds, it’s back to life, back to reality.

The reality where she ignored that thing that existed between her and Britt. The reality where they went back to being strangers.

A hollow feeling blossomed in the center of her chest.

“Speaking of serious topics.” She stared hard at Dillan. “What happened to Agent Maddox? Or…Wilkes, right? That’s his real name?”

The last thing she remembered was Britt falling to his knees beside her, his face a mask of misery and shock as he pressed his hands against her chest to stop the flow of blood. His words barely made it through his iron-clenched jaw when he’d said, “Easy. You’re okay. Hang in there. You’re going to be okay.” And then? Lights out.

“You don’t remember asking me about this five days ago?” Dillan lifted an eyebrow.

She racked her brain and came up blank. “I don’t know if you know this, but they had me on some pretty intense narcotics. I can hardly remember what I had for breakfast this morning, much less what we talked about five days ago.”

He nodded. “You were slurring your words quite a bit. And half the time your eyes were closed.”

“Well, my brain must have been closed the entire time.” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “So spill. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

He took a deep breath before giving her the sordid tale of Jordan Ray Wilkes. Apparently, the man they’d known as Agent Maddox had been the stepson of one of the cartel’s major players. When he turned eighteen, the cartel set him up with a new identity and sent him off to college with one directive and one directive only. Get an education. Get accepted into the FBI training program at Quantico. And get a job as an agent so the drug trafficking organization stays privy to any investigations, busts, and stings.

“Holy shit,” Julia breathed when Dillan was done. “I can’t believe his false identity held up under the background check. The bureau is scrupulous.”

“Get this, there was a JD Maddox. He actually looked a little like Wilkes. But he died in a car crash at eighteen. The cartel managed to scrub the kid’s death from the internet, though. It was easy to have Wilkes pick up where the real Maddox left off.”

“You think the cartel had the real Maddox murdered?” Her lip curled at the thought of such unabashed cruelty.

Dillan shrugged. “I mean, it seems awfully coincidental if they didn’t. But we’ll never know. The kid’s car went off the Cooper River Bridge. It was listed as an accident, so no autopsy was done. And the vehicle has long since been dragged out of the bay and crushed, so there’s no way to go back and check for foul play.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed again, her mind racing in a million directions. “He fooled me. I’m usually better at reading people. But he fooled me.”

“Don’t feel too bad. He fooled everyone .”

She remembered her initial question. “So what’s happening with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he trying to cut a deal or?—”

“He’s dead. Agent Keplar blew a hole right through him a split second after that idiot guard blew a hole through you.”

“Not through .” She grimaced. “I’m told that’s why there was so much bleeding. The round entered and bounced around for a bit.”

Dillan’s face paled. He replaced his hand on her arm, squeezing it. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”

She saw the sincerity in his eyes and figured now was the time to lighten the mood. “Who are you, and what have you done with my partner?”

“What can I say?” He lifted his hands. “Watching you take a round to the shoulder put things in perspective.”

“Well, I prefer it when things are out of perspective. It won’t be any fun bossing you around if my bossing you around doesn’t annoy the ever-living hell out of you.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Once you’re back up and running on all cylinders, guaranteed I will find you as annoying as ever. Probably more so since your ego will be overinflated because you’ve been shot. I’m sure the bureau has a commendation lined up for you.”

“You think it’ll be a star?” She smiled evilly, alluding to one of the four medals the FBI bestowed on its agents for injury, bravery, achievement, or valor. “I’ll put it in one of those fancy plastic cases and sit it on my desk. You’ll have to look at it every day and remember I’m a bigger badass than you are.”

“See?” He feigned a frown. “I’m annoyed already.”

“Good. Then, all is right with the world.”

He laughed before sobering. “In all seriousness, I wanted to murder that damned front desk guard.”

She tried to be mad at the man who’d shot her, but she didn’t have the strength for vitriol. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’s currently on paid leave.” Dillan made a face. “I think the bureau is sending him out for more training.”

“I’m glad they didn’t fire him.” She took a deep breath that hurt more than she let on. “None of us knows how we’ll handle a situation like that until we’re in it. Then, if we’re not cut out for it, it’s too late.”

“You’re a big softy,” Dillan accused, but his tone had no real distaste.

“Mmm. Maybe.” She shrugged her good shoulder along with her eyebrows. Then, those same eyebrows pulled into a vee. “Wait a minute. If the bureau didn’t sniff out Wilkes’s real identity for a full fifteen years, how did Britt Rollins figure it out? Did Ozzie?—”

Dillan cut her off with a shake of his head. “Nope. It wasn’t the amateur hacker they have on staff over there at the motorcycle shop. According to Ozzie, it was Kerberos.”

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She hissed the three syllables like a curse. “ Kerberos? ”

Dillan’s eyes were wide at the connotation. “Apparently, they were monitoring Ozzie’s attempt to get the goods on the people associated with the joint operation. They figured out what he was really after and contacted him to give him the lowdown on Wilkes. They sent him microfiche images from the local newspapers regarding the real Maddox’s death. Sent him Wilkes’s birth certificate, graduation announcement, and the marriage license between the cartel lieutenant and Wilkes’s mother. They laid it all out for him like it was a Sunday dinner.”

“Wh-why would they do that?” She shook her head. The vigilante hackers were a thorn in the bureau’s side because they found ways to hack into the FBI’s system and uncover information they had no business uncovering. But they were also a boon to all those who believed in truth and justice because they exposed corruption and malfeasance in ways the bureau couldn’t. It was safe to say most feds had a love/hate relationship with the anonymous group. “I mean, their whole mantra is we are the ears that listen in the darkness. We are the eyes that witness secret sins. We are the guardians against tyranny and fascism. Isn’t this small potatoes for them? They usually go after politicians and corporations. Not some two-bit rat inside the FBI.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Dillan shrugged. “It’s not like we can get online and ask them why they decided to help.”

“Right.” She nodded. Then she winced when a stab of white-hot pain sliced into her. It was odd. The wound ached constantly. But occasionally, it was like someone shoved a sword through her shoulder.

The doctor said it was normal. Just injured nerves making their presence known. But damn .

A line appeared between Dillan’s eyebrows. “You were smart to do what you did.”

“Hmm?” She tried rearranging her bandage so it wasn’t cutting into her armpit. “What did I do?”

“You hit the deck and gave us time to take down Wilkes. At great risk to yourself. He could’ve stabbed you with that needle.”

“He made the mistake of paying more attention to getting to the front door than he did to me. He moved the syringe away from my neck enough for me to think it was worth becoming a human sandbag.”

“Still.” Dillan shook his head. “You got balls, kid.”

“And that’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

When he rolled his eyes, she laughed. Then she grimaced and grabbed her injured shoulder.

His expression was instantly concerned. “Do I need to call the nurse?”

“Hell, no.” She shook her head. “If I complain too much about the pain, they’ll keep me another night. And I need to get home. It’s only a matter of time before one of my pets turns feral and decides to murder whichever one of my brothers happens to be at my house feeding them.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sean said from the doorway. He had two cups of coffee in hand. Julia’s stomach growled when the sweet smell drifted across the room. “That motorcycle mechanic who was hanging around here for days after they brought you in is the one who’s been seeing after your menagerie of furry and winged friends.”

Julia blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I’ll check on you in a couple of days,” Dillan said, giving her arm one more squeeze before making his way to the door. He dipped his chin at her brother and added, “Take care of our girl in the meantime. She’s a serious pain in the ass. But she’s a fine investigator, and the bureau needs her.”

“We’ll make sure she’s fed and clothed,” Sean assured him.

“And bathed.” Dillan wrinkled his nose and whispered conspiratorially, “I worry there’s no saving that hair. Someone might have to shave her head.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “ Goodbye , Agent Douglas.”

He turned and flashed her a grin that would melt the panties off most women. Thankfully, she was immune. “Get well soon. Stuart Brown is missing you terribly.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Stu only wants me because he can’t have me.”

“True. But I’m getting tired of his hangdog glances at your empty desk. So come back as quickly as you can.”

“That’s the plan,” she assured him.

He lifted a hand in farewell before stepping past her brother and disappearing into the hallway.

“Gimme.” She made grabby fingers at the coffee in her brother’s hand.

He sauntered over and obligingly offered her the paper cup.

After greedily accepting it, greedily gulping down her first sip—and making a face because it was tepid and weak—she fixed her gaze on her brother. “How is it that Britt Rollins is caring for my animals?”

She tried to keep her tone light. But her heart beat so hard she could feel it in her injury.

Sean shrugged. “He volunteered.” When he saw that his answer wouldn’t cut it, he added, “When Mom was kicking everyone out of your room but family, Britt asked if there was anything he could do to help. Since Mom and Dad were determined to stay here with you, and since me and the boys were pulling forty-eight-hour shifts, she happily handed off your house key to Mr. Helpful and told him he could pet sit and house sit if he really wanted to be of service.”

He frowned at her. “Why? Is that a problem? I mean, he’s got to be a stand-up guy because, according to the daily check-ins he’s been exchanging with Mom, he’s taught Gunpowder to say chicken butt instead of dick breath . And apparently, Chewy is in love with him and lets him carry him around everywhere without biting the shit out of him with his little needle Chihuahua teeth.”

The thought of Britt inside her personal space, caring for her animals, should have made her feel strange. And yet…the opposite was true.

What she felt was a spark of hope that maybe her soft dreams of the two of them together weren’t because of the drugs but because he’d changed his mind. Maybe their first night together wasn’t going to be their last night together, after all.

“Go ask the nurse if they can discharge me early,” she instructed, taking another sip of her coffee and hissing at the weak flavor.

Sean lifted an eyebrow. “In a sudden hurry to get home? Is there something you want to tell me about you and Mr. Motorcycle Mechanic?”

Aloud, all she said was, “I need my own coffee and my own coffee maker. This stuff is swill.”

But silently, she thought, I sure hope so.