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Special Agent Fallon Baxter

The Penalty Box pulses with the vibrant energy of a typical sports bar and grill. The clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations blend with the occasional cheer from patrons watching games on the numerous TVs mounted on the walls.

The scent of grilled burgers and fries wafts through the air, making my stomach rumble. And the slight tang of beer is hypnotizing me as well.

The décor is thematic and to the point with various sports memorabilia littering the place. There’s an endless array of jerseys encased in glass frames, trophies, autographed balls of every shape and size, and a few autographed posters as well. Green and yellow neon signs cast a warm glow over the wooden booths and tables and give the patrons a sickly cast to their skin.

The lighting is dim and the music is loud, which lends the place a cozy, if somewhat noisy, appeal. The bar itself is the focal point, with patrons lined up and engaging in animated conversations. Most of those are men hitting on women who look as if they don’t mind.

Jack, Nikki, and I settle into a table for four as the hostess drops off a trio of menus before taking off.

Jack dressed casual for the occasion with jeans and a powder blue dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

Nikki and I are clad in jeans as well with a frilly pink top for Nikki and a red T-shirt that clings to my skin for me. Nikki and I have our weapons in our purses. Not sure if Jack is packing heat, but he is hot I’ll give him that.

Jack and I drove out together and met up with Nikki in the parking lot. I left Buddy at home with a bowl full of food and some show about animals flickering away on TV. He seemed more than content.

“Can you believe it?” Nikki ticks her head wistfully. “We just wrapped up with the last case and we’re knee-deep in another.”

“The unfortunate nature of the beast,” I say. “It’s a wild and wicked world we live in.”

“Speaking of our last case…” She shrugs my way and pauses as if letting me catch up with her. “Did you ever comb through the list of names of the people who were at the compound that night?”

I glance from her to Jack.

“Baxter was being seen for wounds before we left,” Jack tells her. “She may not know that the Bureau was taking the names of every soul there.”

My eyes widen a notch. My heart gives a dramatic thump.

“Wait,” I say, trying to wrap my head around what this could mean. “You’re saying the FBI took the name of every person who left the Paradise compound that night? We had the entire property surrounded?”

“Exactly. They not only took their names but the information of where they thought they’d go since the compound was shut down,” Nikki confirms just as a waitress dressed in short shorts and a white and black striped umpire’s shirt drops off a tray brimming with glasses of water, each with a slice of lemon, before making herself scarce. “I don’t think there’s anyone who slipped out unnoticed. Your sister—if she was there, her name has to be on that list.”

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know this. I mean, she was using a fake name, Angel. And she could have lied again to whoever she spoke with, but still. This could be a solid lead. I need to check that list.”

“I’ll help,” Nikki says with an earnest nod. “Off the books. I don’t care. Whatever you need, Fallon, I’m here to help dig through the data.”

“Me, too,” Jack says without missing a beat. “I’ll help you find your sister, Baxter. I want to help you bring her home.”

Nikki leans in. “Do you have any idea what she’s running from?”

Before I can answer, another waitress comes by and we put in our order. A platter of the spicy buffalo wings to start off with, and for our individual meals, three of the Penalty Box burgers, medium rare, with fries.

The waitress is about to take off when Jack lifts a finger. “Excuse me.”

Her eyes widen a notch once she gets a better look at him and she licks her lips his way as if Jack was her next meal. And if she plays her cards right, he probably will be. After all, pattern is prophecy.

“Is there any way we could speak to the owner?” he asks, glancing past her at the bar and I cast a glance in that direction, too, in the event I recognize our suspect for the night. I looked him up in the yearbook, then again on his social media sites, which were scant, but it still afforded me a good description of what he looks like.

“I’ll get him right away. Anything for you, honey.” She winks at Jack before taking off.

“Hear that, honey?” I say. “Anything for you.”

His lips curve at the tips as he slices me a glance. “Do you mean it?”

My insides bisect with heat when he says it and that only makes me frown harder at him.

A shadow darkens the table and we look up to see a strapping man who has about ten years on me, dark reddish brown hair, same color scruff taking over his face, and light eyes with dimples high on his cheeks. He grins hard at the lot of us, and something tells me Jackie here is about to wipe the smile right off his face.