by Christa Wick
Seeing the twist to his mouth, I rolled my eyes. "Maddy told you about school, didn't she?"
He nodded.
I took a sip of the coffee then expelled a hot puff of frustration. "Why is it she never gossips about you?"
Sutton softly bumped my shoulder.
"Wasn't gossip. After she got off the phone with you, Maddy was cussing loud enough to bring down the roof. I think she was so mad, she didn't realize I had entered the room."
I swiveled on the bench to study his face. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was off. Like maybe he was holding back information.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Well, other than the school's administration is being a bunch of…" He trailed off, swallowed his assessment of their behavior and smiled. "The issue isn't over yet, just so you know. The Director flew in this morning. Maddy is hoping she can get him to write a letter on your behalf at a minimum, see if some government star power will change their small minds."
"The director?" I asked. "What director?"
"The one where you say 'Director' with a capital 'D,'" Sutton laughed.
Finally realizing he meant William Shaekes, the FBI director, I vehemently shook my head.
"Please tell me Maddy didn't already ask? I don't want her burning through any favors on my account. I'll work it out on my own."
Fresh anger over my eight a.m. meeting with the Dean of the Nursing School sizzled through me. After coldly refusing to grant a waiver for the missed days, the woman had all but said I was too fat to be a nurse and should spend the year off getting in better shape.
"Maddy said the school is adding a waitlist, too," he argued. "It won't go by your GPA anymore. Instead of re-starting next year, it could be two years, maybe longer."
"Yeah," I growled. "And it's not the date the students declare their major, it's the date they first enroll at the college."
That last bit really burned my butt. I swatted at my irritation before it could grow any bigger then pulled out my phone.
"Texting Maddy," I explained.
Do NOT ask the Director to get me back in classes. Please. Love you.
"But why?" Sutton asked, reading over my shoulder. "You worked your ass off all year to do your pre-requisites, have great grades, and I hear the staff at the clinic loves you."
I elbowed him away before I answered.
"Truth is, I'm not sure I want it anymore. Not after what happened…in the barn with Emerson…I just need some time to re-evaluate my goals."
Sutton accepted my reply with a one-sided smile, his back pressed against the wall and his chin tilted up as he contemplated the ceiling.
"Hopefully there's a lot of that going around today," he said.
I lightly smacked his arm. "Don't be cryptic. Spit it out."
His thick red brows lifted, wiggled around his forehead.
"I did mention the Director—capital D—flew in this morning, yeah?"
I nodded absently, then my gaze widened. "Shaekes is here to offer Emerson and Maddy Minneapolis?"
Sutton's mouth quirked. He didn't jump up, but rose quickly, paced to the opposite side of the hall then back to where I remained seated on the bench.
"No," he said, returning to my question. "Emerson was offered Minneapolis last year. He turned it down, but only Maddy and I know that. And I'm hamburger if he finds out I told you."
I tugged on his arm until he sat beside me again.
"What the hell? They offered and he declined?"
Sutton tried to slide away, his expression suddenly guarded.
"Why would he do that?" I demanded.
He shrugged. "E convinced himself he was the best chance the Bureau had to take down the Steel Tide for good. Really eviscerate the remaining chapters scattered around the country. A successful op of that level would catapult his career far beyond being a Resident Agent in Charge."
I pulled back, softly chiding myself for thinking there might have been some other reason, something personal instead of professional.
"If you ask me, that was just a pretty lie," Sutton said after a few minutes passed in silence. "I think he turned it down because you’re here and seem to fully intend to stay."
I shook my head, denied the possibility that Emerson put aside his ambition for me last year. After all, he was following that ambition when he left Boston and took Maddy with him. Of course, after what he said in bed, he had also been fleeing feelings for me.
Or he thought he was.
It was hard to believe Sutton's theory—harder to believe in everything that had just happened. Emerson was deeply embedded with the bikers for months, his life constantly in danger. Something like that could take small feelings and blow them up bigger in his mind than they ever really were. Something like friendship and a passing sexual attraction could start to feel like love.
"I never stopped to think he knew you before," Sutton persisted. "Didn't consider that he had a life in Boston outside of work and that life included you."
Scooting closer, he whispered in my ear. "Even without knowing any history, I knew he liked you. He was jealous of the time I spent with Caiden, and thus with you, when you first arrived in Montana. Never have I seen my brother jealous before. That's probably not even the right word for it, but it's the best one I have."
Discounting all that had transpired between me and Emerson since his arrival at the clinic, I pushed back at Sutton's argument.
"You're wrong…I mean, we knew one another, socialized…but it was like we were compartmentalized acquaintances—the kind when people move away, they forget about those they left behind."
Hearing his deep sigh, I wished I could take my words back or at least strip them of their vulnerability and undercurrent of anger.
Sutton drank the last of his coffee, compressed the empty cup, then landed it in a wastebasket three feet from the bench. Turning back to me, he touched the underside of my chin and gently coaxed me into meeting his gaze.
"No one has spent more time with my twin than I have," he said. "Same classroom from kindergarten all through high school, same Sunday school. Same bedroom until we started first grade. Doesn't matter that he's some hotshot Fed who can convince a bunch of sleazy bikers he's one of them. I can read what Emerson is feeling and would be lying if I said he couldn't read me. Whatever stupid mistake he made in parting company with you in Boston, it wasn't because he didn't care deeply about you."
"Fine, whatever," I said, looking down the hall in both directions, fervently praying Lindy or Maddy would come along and rescue me from the conversation. "But if Minneapolis is filled, why is the Director coming here?"
"Lot of reasons," he said. "Shaekes needs to brief several Congressional committees on the success of the operation. He wants a feel for it beyond what Maddy would have put in the report so far."
Accurately reading the expression on my face, Sutton laughed.
"FBI is making arrests all up and down the coast," he explained. "They have the location for where the Billings cage fights were held, and the men kept prisoner by the club have a lot of information they are happy to share with the government—especially the one who was your former patient. The chapter president may have died trying to crawl out of the barn, but Hatcher—"
"Hatchet," I murmured, my nose suddenly filling with the memory of the biker's foul scent.
"Yeah, Hatchet," he agreed. "He was an Enforcer. That meant he went to all the important meetings between chapters, knows where other arenas are, knows all the primary players. Not saying he isn't the devil himself, but he's already singing a song that would make the angels weep."
Leaning in so that his lips almost touched my ear, Sutton whispered. "And they scooped up the main militia guy. The one dead in the barn was just Emerson's contact. The leader was hiding one farm over and trying to flee after he heard all the gunfire. They netted him, too. Weekend raid of his house produced some really interesting files."
"Okay," I relented. "So despite Emerson la
id up in the hospital with a gut shot, it was a resounding success. Does that mean some other office will be offered to him?"
"Miami," Sutton sighed. "I'm told it's one of the five largest. Important for drug enforcement and organized crime, including Russians. Which means he would be coordinating with the Bureau's counterintelligence division."
Nose pricking with frustration, I closed my eyes and kept them shut before I asked my next question.
"If he wants to take Maddy, will she go?" Opening my eyes and looking at Sutton, I couldn't hold back all of the tears threatening. A few had to escape. "Will you?"
Before he could answer, I tried to walk back the question. "I mean of course you'll be together. But do you know what she wants to do?"
"I think she'll stay," he said, his voice less confident than his body language. "I know that, before Minneapolis was on the horizon, she told me she was filing for a permanent Billings assignment. But, with the way Emerson turned Minneapolis down cold, her resolve wasn't tested."
He shrugged, forced a smile that frayed at its edges. "What I do know is that my family is good for Maddy. And Caiden."
Pausing, he draped his arm across my shoulders. "I hope it's good for you, too."
Wrapping Sutton in a tight squeeze, I squeaked my reply. "Yes. It really is."
He stiffened then whispered in my ear. "Maddy and Shaekes inbound."
I jerked away, wiped discreetly at my face then turned to look as Maddy approached with a tall, gray-haired male in a suit that probably cost five times my monthly car payment.
Sutton stood, I mirrored the action. The Director briefly shook Sutton's hand then firmly clasped both of mine and didn't let go.
"I hear you're the reason Emerson Turk is still alive."
I demurred. "There are a lot of people responsible for his being here."
Shaekes flashed a smile that was half-politician, half-pastor.
"You were the first link in the chain," he said. "You made sure the surgeons had a man to operate on, not a corpse. There is no place for modesty in that."
The way he phrased my contribution weakened my knees—the part about the corpse. There was no escaping the fact that Emerson and Maddy worked a dangerous job. Any day could be their last.
"Thank you," I said, relief washing through me when the man released my hands.
With a final nod at me and Sutton, Shaekes turned and followed Maddy into Emerson's hospital room.
"When will we know?" I whispered.
He huffed, head tilted to the side and his eyes jumping back and forth like he was calculating a tough equation. After half a minute of that, he shrugged.
"Maybe by Shaekes' expression when he walks out," he said. "But I doubt Emerson will give him an immediate answer."
"I think he will," I said. "Answer immediately, I mean. The offer won't change what he really wants. It will just force him to face the truth of things."
Sutton's brows lifted; his mouth went flat. Matching his expression, I grabbed my purse. He wrapped a hand around my elbow in gentle restraint.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know yet," I said, shoulders trembling. "But one thing is certain. I am not hanging around this hospital just to hear bad news."
24
Delia
I returned to Lindy's ranch house for what I half expected to be the last time. I couldn't say why, I just felt that way pulling into the side drive and putting my car in park.
At any rate, I knew I wouldn't be staying the night. Caiden had to get back to school and Maddy had said it was safe to return to the apartment. But, before I could leave, I needed to pack mine and Caiden's belongings and clean the rooms we had used. Then I would write a long, heartfelt note to Lindy thanking her for her kindness and hospitality.
My body feeling like it was made of lead, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. A minute passed, maybe two, before there was a light tap at my window. Looking over, I saw Leah holding up a wildflower. Behind her, Caiden and Jake waited patiently.
I rolled down the window. Leah presented me with the flower.
"For me?"
The little girl nodded.
"Are you going home?" she asked.
I glanced at Caiden. His expression looked neutral, but I could see that Leah's question had sparked some anxiety in him.
"Yes," I answered. "We love being out here, but Caiden needs to get back to his school."
Leah sighed, scuffed the toe of her shoe against the ground.
"We have schools here. I go three days a week. Next year, I get to go all five."
I knew where the conversation was headed, didn't think Leah would understand why Caiden was better off in a specific kind of school, at least for now.
Getting out of the car, I gave the little girl a hug.
"We'll be back for more visits," I promised.
Leah tilted her head hard left, her mouth pursed in concentration. She nodded next, then looked up at me.
"Mama says that's true."
I looked to Jake. The sudden pain blistering his face vanished the second he caught me watching him.
"You know," I said, leading Leah toward the path that curved around to the back entrance. "I think a snack before Caiden and I have to leave sounds like a wonderful idea, especially if you’re going to keep us company."
Leah stopped abruptly and pulled on my arm. I bent down. She curled her hand around my ear and whispered.
"Aunt Sage made the muffins."
"Okay."
I smiled, uncertain why the information required whispering. Straightening, I managed one step forward before she pulled me back down.
"Sage is good at cleaning…and making the computer programs give Adler all the information he needs." Pausing, Leah seemed to think hard for a second, her entire face scrunching as she rummaged through her mind. "And she's great at taking care of Dotty Belle and me."
"That's fabulous," I replied, one brow arching with a question when I caught Jake's attention.
"She's not so good at making muffins that don't come out of a Betty Crocker box," he said, his answer not much louder than Leah's whisper.
The little girl threw her hands up in the air, rotating them back and forth as she spoke.
"I did not say that," she protested. "I did not say that at all."
Smiling for the first time since I left Emerson's hospital room, I captured Leah's hand and led everyone into the kitchen, where we found Sage pulling a fresh batch of muffins from the oven.
25
Delia
I pulled into the parking space allocated to my apartment. Maddy's government sedan filled the adjacent space reserved for visitors. A glance at my phone showed a text from Maddy saying she was coming over.
Caiden jumped out of the front passenger seat and ran to the door, his expression flashing over to frustrated when he found it locked.
"We keep it locked when we're home," I said, popping the trunk lid and gesturing for him to get his bags before going inside. "Why wouldn't Maddy do the same?"
He flashed a "duh, mom" look. The expression was the only bad habit he had picked up from Sutton, but it was so "neurotypical" for his age that I didn't have the heart to reprimand him. If he advanced to Siobhan's eyerolls, I would start cracking the whip.
Probably.
"Well, why wouldn't she?" I prodded, shouldering my bag and closing the trunk.
"Mom—she has a gun."
I unlocked the door, let him slide through first. Seeing my little sister on the couch, eyes closed, her hands resting lightly on the baby bump just beginning to show, I smiled.
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."
Maddy executed a vastly spreading yawn, jiggled Caiden's hand as he swooped past then turned a bright smile on me.
"Caiden thinks you don't need to lock the door because you have a gun."
Shaking her head, Maddy stretched, yawned again.
"You're working too much," I chided. "Too many hours, too much stress."
<
br /> As much as I wanted to blurt that things would only be worse if she transferred to Miami, I kept my mouth shut.
"That's why I lock the door," Maddy grinned in Caiden's direction. "I'd probably sleep through the place getting robbed."
"And good people don't take any joy in shooting bad people," I added.
A shadow passed over Maddy's face, but then she murmured her agreement.
"No, we don't."
Caiden surprised me by wrapping his arms around Maddy. He seldom hugged. In the last ninety days, I could recall only two times that he had performed the gesture on me.
In a way, I felt like she was stealing a hug that belonged to me.
"I'm glad you didn't get shot," he said before pulling away and looking at me. "Can I watch television?"
"Yes," I smiled. "You have to be in absolute withdrawal by now."
Plopping down on the couch next to Maddy, Caiden nodded vigorously then picked up the remote. Maddy stood. Catching my attention, she tilted her head toward the hall.
Together, we walked into my bedroom. Maddy went straight for the bed.
"Are you okay?" I asked, the back of my fingers briefly alighting on Maddy's forehead and cheek in search of a clinically troubling temperature.
"Just exhausted," Maddy mumbled, curling on her side, her back toward the center of the bed. "You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork just one dead body generates. Even worse when there's an FBI bullet in the corpse."
I knew I only had a sliver of the facts about the shootout beyond the aftermath I had witnessed.
"Did either of the groups put up resistance when you got there?"
Maddy yawned, patted the space behind her. Like a trained seal, I climbed on the bed, pressed my chest against Maddy's back and curled an arm around my baby sister.
"The ones that survived were out of ammo by the time we got there," Maddy answered after a few more seconds.
"So Emerson shot someone?"
"Didn't say that," Maddy answered, shoulders wriggling as she tried to snuggle closer to me. "Didn't say he shot several, either."