by Layla Reyne
“They’re gonna wipe the floor with us, Deputy. I didn’t need to see that.” Except he’d been seeing it all month, dutifully attending Annie’s games now that they’d gone public with their relationship. He sighed dramatically, but the corners of his lips turned up as he caught another of Annie’s grins.
Another light in the dark of the past couple months.
“You got off easy, man.” Trevor’s amused voice carried over the din of the bullpen. He shuffled through the rows of desks, balancing a cardboard tray of food in one hand and holding two bottles of Cheerwine with the other. “You didn’t have this one”—he pecked Charlie’s cheek, then strode into her office to unload the ballpark bounty—“heckling you the entire time too.”
“I would have behaved myself,” she called after him.
Everyone laughed. Rightfully so. All of Hanover knew she was a grade A heckler. It was her favorite thing about sports, especially since she was otherwise shit at them. She’d grown up surrounded by athletes, but athletic talent had skipped her completely, so she’d made up for it with moral support.
“How many strikeouts?” she asked her sister.
“Twelve,” Annie said. “The last one was a wicked rise ball.”
Charlie opened her mouth, and Jaylen held up a hand. “Don’t say it should’ve been fifteen. You weren’t there.”
“Just in case, I’ll have Maggie check your eyesight.”
“It’s all good.” Annie swaggered over to Jaylen and slapped his shoulder with her glove. “Lay off Jaylen.”
“All right.” Grinning, Charlie raised her hands. “I’ll ease up.”
“Why don’t you go find Abel and fill him in?” Trevor said to Annie and Jaylen. “I’m sure he wants to know how the game went, and I need to get some food in your sister since I’m sure she hasn’t eaten all day.”
Charlie opened her mouth to lie but her grumbling stomach betrayed her. “I forgot.” Not a lie. “It’s been a day.” Also not a lie.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jaylen hooked an arm through Annie’s and steered her toward the stairs. “You can tell him how you’re gonna kick our asses in the tourney next month.”
“I promise I won’t be too hard on you.”
Charlie barely contained her laughter. Annie’s competitive streak was as fierce as Trevor’s and—
Charlie blocked the mental image before it fully formed, focusing instead on the here and now. Her family, and the case that had eaten up more than half her day. “Jaylen,” Charlie called after him. “Once Annie is on her way, find Diego and get up to speed on the new case.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
They disappeared down the stairwell, and Charlie retreated into her office, Trevor on her heels. He sank into one of the visitor chairs in front of her desk. “Seems like love is in the air for those two.”
She swiped the box of Raisinets from the tray and dropped into the chair beside his. “Doubly good I wasn’t there cheering for the wrong team.”
“Please.” Trevor took a swig from his soda bottle. “Jaylen’s been here a few years now. He knows the drill.”
Rolling her eyes, she traded the box of candy for a hot dog, unwrapped it, and took a bite. Doctored with ketchup and cheese, just the way she liked it.
“Heard them making plans for another date next week,” Trevor said. “What’s that bring the tally to? I’ve lost count.”
Charlie hid her prideful smirk behind a napkin. “Me too.” She was happy Annie and Jaylen were getting closer, especially since she’d been the one to set them up. But her pride was tempered by recent events and events in the near future. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
She didn’t have to say more for Trevor to understand where her thoughts had gone. Annie was a primary concern for both of them as they’d each considered the move to DC. “I hope so,” he said. “I hope it’s the fresh start she needs too.”
Annie would be out of any other Henby shadows and on her own two feet with Jaylen by her side. Abel would still be in town—Annie wouldn’t be totally without family—and Charlie and Trevor would only be a six-hour car ride away. She was a grown woman. Charlie shouldn’t worry, but turning that instinct off where her little sister was concerned was impossible.
Trevor set his empty bottle on the desk and angled toward her. “Have you heard any more from the feds?”
She paused midlift of her hot dog. She appreciated the shift in conversation away from the hard one to something else, but she was cautious about having this particular conversation at the station. Her work on the Salazar case had caught the attention of the organized crime unit at the FBI. Joining the Bureau would be a giant leap for her career, but every time she thought about the opportunity, every time she let herself get a little excited about it, the next instant her stomach would churn. Yes, she’d taken down Hector Salazar, but her father and brother had died in the process. Yet somehow, she was the one climbing the LEO ladder when they’d only been in the ground a mere month? Nothing about the situation seemed fair.
And nothing about joining the organization where Sean Hale worked as an assistant legal attaché seemed wise either. But Sean was a legat at The Hague, and she’d made damn sure he’d had nothing to do with her recruitment. He’d said he was going to let her live her life, and this was another door opening. To a possible future of her own in DC. Exactly when she needed it. But, fuck, would the guilt that roiled her stomach and burned the back of her throat ever go away?
Trevor grasped her knees with both hands. “Charlie.”
Would the sparks Sean had reignited ever go away either? Fire burned where Trevor laid his hands, same as warmth still heated her cheek where he’d pecked it earlier. They knew where this led, or rather didn’t. They’d tried and failed after Sean’s first disappearing act. But then Sean had returned and reignited an attraction that wasn’t so easily snuffed out. She fought through the emotional storm to focus on Trevor’s words.
“You earned this,” he said. “It’s okay—”
“What will Annie think? I just got her back.” Somehow the hard conversation had become the easier one. “What if this pushes her away again? For good?”
“How will working to put away more criminals like Hector Salazar, saving other families the pain ours has gone through, push her away?”
The bile receded a little. Trevor always knew what to say to comfort her. “I just don’t want to be disrespectful, to the department, to them”—she covered his hands—“to any of you.”
Hazel eyes bored into hers. “You’re not, Charlie. You’ll be doing good work. Abel got that when you told him the other night. Annie will too. And just like moving to DC, you’ll be doing what you need to move on.”
Hearing those words, Charlie tore her gaze from Trevor’s as she mentally weathered a barrage of bittersweet memories.
Sean’s grief-stricken face, absent too long from Hanover. Trevor’s livewire reaction to his presence as well as her own more simmering one. The ever-present connection between her and Trevor that had caught fire, Sean the spark. A bottle of scotch, a long overdue apology, and then an explosion of tangled limbs and bodies.
A cold, empty side of the bed the next morning.
A glimpse at what the three of them could have been, the future they could have had, but never would.
A final goodbye. The one they should have had ten years ago, the one a part of her still refused to acknowledge. Refused to let go of and move on, despite her own words claiming to do just that. The anger that had been supplanted by grief then keeping the pain fresh now.
The lingering temptation to try again with Trevor, just the two of them, despite the near certainty they would crash and burn like the last time. The critical piece missing. And then where would they be?
Unable to meet Trevor’s gaze, sure he’d see some of what she was thinking, she aimed her own eyes toward the bullpen as her mind continued to vault and spin over the possibilities. Until the ringing desk phone interrupted her ment
al gymnastics. Standing, she stepped around the desk and picked up the receiver, the display flashing an internal extension from downstairs. “Talk to me.”
“Jaylen’s gonna bring Annie back upstairs,” Abel said. “You need to get her and Trevor out the front door. Quickly.”
“What’s going on?”
“Feds are here.”
Her spine stiffened. “They’re early.”
“One of ’em is here to interview you.”
“Here? But I’m supposed to meet Agent Conder in Wilmington.”
“Seems he’s here. The other…” Abel cleared his throat. “The other is here about Professor Marshall.”
“Already?” There was no way Agent Marshall could have gotten there so fast. Which meant what? The feds had gotten wind of the case and sent someone to steal it? On what grounds? She might be considering a job with them, but for now, she was still HPD’s deputy chief, the lead detective on this case, and the professor’s death was not a federal matter. She glanced at Trevor, who was moving around the room, cleaning up, while keeping a worried eye on her.
“I’ll explain when you get here,” Abel said.
“Explain now.”
“Charlotte.” His voice was stern, clipped, brooking no argument. “Get Annie and Trevor out of here, now, then meet me in the back alley.”
Her eyes cut to the stairs where Jaylen and Annie appeared. “Give me five.”
“And, sugar,” Abel said, his voice grim, “brace.”
The line went dead, and she jerked the phone from her ear, staring at it as her stomach churned once more, this time with apprehension.
“Everything okay, sis?” Annie asked from the doorway.
Concealing her anxiety, Charlie replaced the receiver in the cradle and circled her desk. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to cut the party short.” She hated the disappointment that slashed across her sister’s face, but maybe she could make up for it. “How about we pick the party back up tonight? I’ll swing by Pier Point for burgers and meet you at your place?”
“Sounds good.” She turned to Jaylen. “Want to join us?”
He grinned. “I’d be delighted.” Then abruptly seemed to remember his boss was also in the room. “Unless I’m needed here,” he said to Charlie.
Charlie didn’t make him sweat. “Don’t think the debrief will take that long.” She shifted her attention to Trevor. “Can you give Annie a lift home?”
“No problem. Okay if I stay for the party too?”
She shoved his shoulder. “Of course it is.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, setting off another flicker of heat. “Later, honey.”
Once they were clear, Charlie made her way to the back alley and was surprised to find her uncle sitting on the station stoop. Elbows propped on his knees, head hung in his bear-claw-sized hands, he was the picture of misery. What the fuck was going on? She stepped outside, the station door banging shut, and Abel shot to his feet. He spun and Charlie nearly gasped, his expression almost as grim as the night her dad and brother had died.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she descended the steps and stopped in front of him. “Where are the agents?”
“The agent here to interview you went back to Wilmington. He’ll meet you there on Monday as scheduled. I explained the sensitivity of meeting here.”
“Good, thank you,” she said with a nod. “You said there was another agent asking about Professor Marshall. You got a name? If I’m headed into a jurisdictional pissing contest, I’d like to know who I’m up against.”
“It’s not like that, sugar.”
“Then what’s it like, exactly?”
Abel repeated his earlier warning. “Brace, Charlotte.”
An angry, frustrated What the fuck is going on? died on her lips when a smooth, deep voice called out from the shadows behind Abel.
“Charlie?”
Eyes widening, she rose on her toes to peer over Abel’s shoulder, confirming the unbelievable truth her ears had told her. The owner of that familiar voice stepped out of the shadows into the strip of afternoon sun lighting one half of the alley.
Brace.
BRACE.
Except there was no bracing for this.
Same as there’d been no bracing a month ago when she’d glimpsed her ex-lover across the cemetery at Mitch and Cal’s funeral. Only then she’d been seated and numb with grief. Now, though… Now all of that buried anger and resentment bubbled and collided with longing and panic as she laid eyes again on Anderson Sean Hale.
Not a lifetime later, not ten years later.
A month later.
She and Trevor had agreed not to tell anyone about Sean’s presence at the funeral and at the house after. Why would they? It was a blip on the what-might-have-been radar. In reality, Sean was supposed to be in Europe. So what the fuck was he doing here? And why was he interested in her case?
She sidestepped Abel and took in the sight of her ex. His dark hair was cut short, neater than it had been the day of the funeral. Bureau regulation, she supposed, though nothing else about him, other than the holstered gun at his hip, appeared FBI issued. His gray V-neck tee stretched temptingly across his arms and chest, and the dark wash jeans and motorcycle boots were a far cry from his funeral suit and oxfords, but his eyes… His eyes were the same breathtaking shade of blue she’d looked down into and found brimming with tears, with the same longing and despair that permanently occupied a corner of her heart. She hadn’t been able to get those eyes out of her head since he’d left for the airport the next morning.
Eyes still on Sean, she lowered her voice and spoke to Abel. “You need to lock down the files. I don’t care who he is or why he’s here. This is our case.”
“Diego’s on it already.” Abel squeezed her shoulder and stepped the rest of the way around her, headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Her ears followed his retreating steps while her eyes remained locked on Sean, who was moving toward her. She spread her legs, squared her shoulders, and crossed her arms, assuming a defensive position. Sean froze midstep, hurt and surprise streaking across his face. She didn’t give him an inch, for her own sake and the department’s. “What are you doing here, Sean?”
His body jerked, his eyes slammed shut, and his face twisted as if he were in pain.
“Sean?” she called again when he didn’t reply, and his face contorted further.
“Fuck.” He raked his hands through his hair and laced them behind his neck, head bowed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”
“Why did you?”
“Jefferson Marshall.”
“Is a local matter. My town, my citizen, my case.”
“No one’s disputing that.” He dropped his arms and lifted his chin. His eyes were wary, the brow above them furrowed, and his lips pressed together in a thin line. Whatever his reason for being here, he didn’t want to tell her. “I owe him, Charlie.”
Now there was the Sean Hale she knew. Duty-bound, except apparently when it came to her and Trevor. Regardless, that was then, this was now, and as she ran class schedules through her memory, she couldn’t make the equation work. “Jefferson Marshall? He was never one of your professors.”
“No, not him.”
“Then who?” she demanded. “Who did you fly across an ocean for?” Who was that important to him? More important than she and Trevor had ever been.
“I’m back in the States now.”
She rocked back a step, barely catching the Since when? on the tip of her tongue. Same as he’d promised a month ago, she hadn’t checked up on him either. As far as she’d known, he was still at The Hague—
Wait, The Hague.
“Him? Emmitt Marshall? Professor Marshall’s son?”
Sean nodded. “He’s a colleague. One who’s saved my ass on more than one occasion.” Pink slashed across Sean’s cheekbones above his neatly trimmed beard. “Marsh is on assignment and delayed a few days. He wanted eyes on the case, and
we need to see to his father’s estate.”
A nickname, a blush, an entanglement in the other man’s affairs. Charlie wondered how close Agents Hale and Marshall were and why that made her back straighten and her voice harden. “I spoke to Agent Marshall this morning. He didn’t mention sending you.”
“It took some convincing, considering.” He shrugged and ran a hand over his nape. “I’m not here to interfere with your investigation or your life, Charlie. I’m just doing a favor for a friend, then I’ll be out of your hair.” He dropped his arm with a sad half smile. “Like I promised I would be.”
Except he was there now—in Hanover—and not an ocean away. Ignoring all that, and ignoring her curiosity as a detective and as his ex who wanted to know more about his involvement with Agent Marshall, Charlie focused instead on reading his expression and explanation. The contrite, conciliatory look on his face indicated he was sincere. He wasn’t there to cause trouble, but after his last visit, Sean Hale in Hanover was bound to stir some up nonetheless. Her best play was to cooperate, give him the info he wanted, then send him on his way before keeping their promises became impossible. No matter how much her heart recoiled at the notion of him leaving a third time.
“Let me brief the team, then we’ll bring you up to speed.” She turned on her heel, climbed the stoop, and opened the station door. “You can wait in my office.”
“Much appreciated.” One corner of his mouth tipped up, and she immediately questioned her decision. Her gaze drifted to his high cheekbones still flushed pink, his strong, square jaw covered with stubble, his full lower lip she’d never forgotten the taste of. Had been reminded of a few short weeks ago. Electricity sparked through her veins.
She distracted herself from the charge by reminding him, “This is HPD’s case.”
“Understood, Deputy Henby.” He grinned and raised three fingers as they stopped at the top of the stoop. “In and out, I promise.”
And there was the jokester she remembered, the one who’d been absent earlier in the month, none of them in the joking mood then. She shouldn’t be now either, but that grin, when Sean let it out, had always been infectious. “Boy Scout, my ass,” she said with a smirk.