by Layla Reyne
“Because if she hurt you, Holt would either fall apart or kill her himself.”
Still true, nine months later, except Holt was past falling apart now. It was his turn to be the strong one. He released Brax’s chin but not his face, gliding his hand up to frame his cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to you either.”
Brax couldn’t stop the flare of his eyes, his own words no doubt familiar, before he closed them and turned his face into Holt’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips tickling Holt’s palm, sending a blast of heat racing from the point of contact straight to Holt’s center where it collided with the lightning zipping up his spine and the ripples in his belly that had morphed into giant waves echoing in his ears, his pulse so loud he almost missed Brax’s next words. “I can’t let you get hurt.”
He curled his hand around Brax’s neck, drawing him down, forehead resting against his own. “I can’t let you get hurt either. Let me help you, Brax.”
And fuck if in that moment Holt didn’t mean more than just hacking, more than just getting Brax out of this jam, more than just protecting him. He wanted to comfort him, wanted to hold him close and erase the breath of distance between their—
Holt’s phone on the table rang, startling them apart.
They stared at each other, a long awkward two rings, before Lily cried “Ba-Ba!” and Holt snatched the phone off the table.
“Hey, Jax,” he answered, having glimpsed their name onscreen. “What’ve you got?”
“You’re not gonna like it,” they said, and Holt had a feeling he was going to like it a whole lot less than anything else he’d told Brax earlier. He wasn’t wrong. “I tracked Swanson’s emails back through the IP addresses,” Jax said. “You were right. They were rerouted, same as the photo. I found the same digital fingerprint on both.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t have a who exactly, but I have a where, and that might be good enough to get us to who.”
Brax rounded the corner, Lily on his hip, dozing with her thumb in her mouth and her head on his shoulder, blanket wrapped around her. Holt held on to that vision, to the sense of home and joy it sparked, and used it as a buffer. “Spill, Jax. From where?”
“FCI Dublin.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He lowered the phone and ran his other hand down his face, groaning in anger and frustrated exhaustion.
Brax caught his wrist. “What is it?”
“Amelia.”
Chapter Twelve
The door to the visitation room opened, and Lily spun on Holt’s lap, her little body vibrating with excitement. Amelia appeared from behind the guard who’d opened the door, and Lily squealed with delight. “Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma!”
The guard met Holt’s gaze, and Holt nodded, giving him the go ahead to remove Amelia’s cuffs. They always asked; he always conceded. Was it a risk? Yes. Amelia was almost as good as Helena at hand-to-hand combat, and she had a particular skill with pressure points. If she got a hand on Holt’s neck, squeezed in just the right spot, he would fall like a giant redwood tree. But while there was a lot Holt no longer trusted about his ex-wife, he did trust the adoring look in her eyes whenever they landed on Lily. Over the past nine months, she had proven, at least in this setting, she wouldn’t do anything that might risk Lily or the limited time she got to spend with her.
Holt wouldn’t begrudge their daughter that either.
“Give her just a minute,” he said to Lily, holding her around the waist as the guard removed Amelia’s cuffs.
Holt looked Amelia over as they waited. Not the vibrant, confident presence she’d once been—even at her over-mom’ed and overworked worst—but she looked the best she had since being incarcerated. Her long dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, her green eyes were sharp and alert, and the bags under them weren’t so pronounced. One might even say she looked settled. Because she thought she might have found a way out? Because revenge was on the horizon? Except the genuine joy in her eyes and her wide smile as she wrapped Lily in her arms belied the ill will Holt suspected. But he hadn’t suspected before either. For years, Amelia had lied to him, had used him to manipulate others, like Max Bailey, and had watched over his shoulder as a means to later betray him. Was she doing that now? Fuck. He was so tired of being turned around. Of not knowing which end was up. Of not trusting his own fucking instincts.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Amelia said, snapping him out of the mental merry-go-round.
“Belated Easter,” he replied. “I’m sorry we missed swinging by.”
“Probably for the best.” She tickled Lily’s tummy, eliciting a peal of giggles that also made Holt smile. “Between visitors and a food poisoning incident, it was a madhouse here. I got to help out in the infirmary. Didn’t even mind the overtime.”
Maybe that was the reason for the light in her eyes. She was getting back to the work she loved, able to apply her training as a nurse. Holt hoped that was it, but he still had to find out, for his and Brax’s sake.
“How was yours?” she asked.
“No food poisoning, thankfully.” He retrieved the soft feely box out of Lily’s go bag and dumped the animal toys inside it out on the table for Lily. “A bit nontraditional, for us. The lamb was familiar, but the spaghetti pie thing, carrot tart, and Italian Easter bread were new additions.” The house had smelled amazing, and they’d had leftovers for days. And leftover Perris for days too, but he hadn’t minded. It had been the first big family holiday they’d all shared together, and the sense of home had been welcome.
Amelia smiled. “Perri?”
“Both of them.”
“Ah, that’s right. Helena’s girlfriend.”
“More,” Lily said, adding her review.
“I bet you did want more,” Amelia replied. “Especially when it’s homemade. Just wait until Christmas. They’ll feed you like you’ve never been fed before.”
A mix of sadness and fondness swirled in Amelia’s eyes, and Holt wondered if she was remembering her own family. She wasn’t in touch with them any longer. They’d turned their backs on her when she’d come out as queer. Holt still kept tabs on them in case any tried to make a play for custody of Lily. Thinking further on it now, he wondered also if maybe someone—the cartel—was leveraging them against Amelia, forcing her to help them go after Brax. “You miss your family?” he asked.
She hugged Lily closer. “Of course I miss all of you.”
“No, I meant your biological family.”
Her eyes took on a faraway look, but only for a split second before returning to the present and catching a falling lion Lily had knocked off the table. “I miss certain memories from my childhood, but them, no. I didn’t really know family until I met you Madigans.” She brushed a hand over Lily’s head. “And this little girl.” Kissed her crown.
Lily muah-ed a kiss back to her and continued to play with her toys.
Amelia laughed, and Holt too, even as his anger and frustration bubbled again. He didn’t think this was an act, but how could he be sure? And if he were wrong, it wasn’t just his life on the line. Brax’s was too. “You still feel that way about us?” he asked.
“Stop beating around the bush, babe. Your siblings are better at it than you.”
“Did you ever respect me?”
She lifted her face to the ceiling and laughed, rueful almost. Her gaze was soft, though, when it landed back on him. “Fuck, baby. I feared you. Still do. You were always just one click away from destroying me. You’re the smartest of them all.”
“But I didn’t catch on to you.”
“That’s because you also have the biggest heart of the lot. Got me right here.” She tapped her own chest. “But I know whatever it is you’re trying to ask, and doing a terrible job of, can’t be about us. There’s no magical reunion in our future. I know that’s not how you work. The trust is broken, and I”—she tapped her chest again—“did that. That’s on me, not you. But family?” She hugged Lily again with one arm and
used the other to help their daughter push the lion inside the opening at the top of the box. “We’re still that because of her, so tell me what’s really going on.”
He carefully parsed her words—through everything she’d said and everything he’d already been over with his own therapist and with the child psychologist they’d agreed on for Lily. Amelia was listening too. She got it—seemed at peace with it even—but then again, she’d always gotten relationship dynamics better than him. Except one thing she’d said was wrong. “It’s not all on you. My grandmother manipulated you too. That’s on her. And it’s on me that I was so wrapped up in Lily, and in my own head, that I didn’t have an inkling of what was going on in yours, and I’m sorry for that.”
Amelia’s shoulders lowered, and she released a long slow breath, and with it some of the tension eased from the room. “Thank you for that.” The sentiment was genuine. Holt didn’t question that. And no longer questioned putting his cards on the table when she prodded, “Now, tell me what’s going on for real.”
“Someone framed Brax for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Ba-Ba!”
“Yeah, baby, we’re talking about your Uncle Brax.” She picked up the blue car and handed it to Lily. “And you think it’s me?”
Holt rested his forearms on the table. “The supposed evidence came from an email and IP address that traced back to here.”
“I didn’t do it.”
From the conversation so far, he tended to believe her, but he’d learned enough from watching Hawes and Helena to know not to give that away yet.
“Say what you will about me,” Amelia continued. “Yes, I let Rose turn me around. Yes, I fell for promises of a better, more secure life for my daughter. Yes, my notions of power got twisted up in my head. But I’m not a total fool. There’s a reason I never went after Brax. Never tried to get between you two even though I felt like the third wheel half the time, and I was the one married to you.”
Holt rocked back, her words a punch to the gut. “What?”
She adjusted Lily in her lap, their daughter done with her toys and just happy to cuddle with her mother. “There’s a bond there,” Amelia said, her tone matter-of-fact, not cruel or angry. “One you don’t share with anyone else, one I’m not sure anyone else could ever comprehend. You should have seen the light in your eyes the day he arrived in San Francisco. I honestly thought I’d lost you, and I would have been okay with that because you were that goddamn happy, even though the man you were hugging was the assistant chief of police.”
“But you didn’t lose me.”
“No, I didn’t. Until I severed what was between us.” She lowered her chin, nuzzling it into Lily’s curls. “But she still ties us together, and because of your bond to Brax, there’s a bond with her too. I can’t be out there to protect her, but he’s protecting both of you. That man would throw himself in front of a bus for either of you. I’m not about to risk that.”
He didn’t doubt the truth of her words. Brax would do whatever it took to protect him and Lily. Fuck, he’d proven that multiple times over. He wouldn’t think twice. Had Amelia recognized that as well? Was she telling the truth? Could he trust her? That she wasn’t the one who’d moved against Brax, against their family again? “Are you being real with me?”
“I have lied about a lot, Holt Madigan, but this”—she patted Lily’s back—“a good, safe life for her, has always been my primary objective. I understand I went about securing that the wrong way for too long. I won’t make that mistake again, and threatening Brax…” She widened her eyes, flashed both hands in the air, and emphasized her words. “Big. Mistake.”
The Pretty Woman impression made Holt laugh. It had always been her favorite movie.
The lighter mood evaporated, however, with her next words. “Honestly, Holt, it sounds like something your grandmother would pull.”
“She made a deal with Hawes.”
“You think that still holds?” She shot him an unamused smirk. “If I didn’t have our kid in my lap, I’d reach across the table and thump your head.”
He chuckled darkly and lifted a hand in acknowledgement. “You’re right, and the thought did cross my mind.” He didn’t want it to, but it had been impossible not to lie in bed last night and run through the gamut of possibilities, including the possibility that this was all tied to Rose somehow.
“Let me see what I can find out for you,” Amelia said.
“You’ll help us?”
She patted Lily’s back again, in time with their daughter’s light snores. “For her, of course. And I learned a thing or two watching you. I can get into the system here and find out who really sent that email. If it’s tied to Rose, I’ll spot it. I learned a few of her tricks as well.”
Was it possible Amelia was still working for Rose? That Rose was behind this? Yes, on both counts. Yes, maybe he was wrong again, but his instincts—fuck, his instincts had been too often wrong where Amelia was concerned. And if she was working with Rose, if she told Rose they were coming after her, and if Rose escalated the campaign against Brax…
“Because if she hurt you, Holt would either fall apart or kill her himself.”
A cool hand landed on his fist, which he hadn’t realized he’d formed. “Bottle that anger, babe,” Amelia said. “Hold it for when you really need it. In the meantime, let me help. Let me start to make up for the hurt I caused my family.”
Even if his instincts were wrong, instincts that were telling him he could trust Amelia in this instance, could he afford not to take the chance if this could possibly clear Brax’s name? Fuck, for Brax, he’d risk it all.
He relaxed his fist and nodded. “Okay, but please, Amelia, if you ever loved me, if you love our daughter, don’t make me regret this.”
Lily dozed the entire drive back from FCI Dublin to MCS. Holt parked his SUV in the spot between Hawes’s Benz and Chris’s Hog, gathered Lily’s go bag and his laptop from the back, and carefully extracted his daughter from her car seat. Situating her on his hip, he encouraged her to go back to sleep. He and her mother had work to do. He carried her inside, past the main reception area and into the executive-level elevator. Exiting on the third floor, he silently nodded to Victoria, their lieutenant who manned the executive-level reception desk, walked by the glassed-in conference room where Helena was meeting with several other captains, and headed toward the row of executive offices. Hawes was on the phone in his corner suite and in the office next door, Chris and Avery were riffling through papers strewn across the investigator’s desk.
“Fuc—freaking menace,” Holt muttered as he continued on to his office. He lowered the bags off his shoulder, then carried Lily to her pack and play in the corner, another thing she was about to outgrow. When he straightened, Avery and Hawes were standing outside his office door.
He waved them in and plopped into a chair. Midday and it felt like midnight already. “It’s not Amelia,” he said.
Avery tucked a folder under her arm and leaned against the wall. “How can you be sure?” Her voice was neutral, her stance casual, but her dark eyes were a sea of anger and skepticism. Both warranted. Amelia had used her as a decoy during the attempted coup.
“I can’t be,” Holt admitted. “Not one hundred percent, but she made a convincing argument.”
“Holt—” Hawes started.
He lifted a hand. “Look, I know she fooled me for years. I know that now, so does she, and I don’t think this is that situation.”
Chris entered the room, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, which bless his paper-loving heart, he offered to Holt. “Why’s that?”
Holt took the mug and savored a long swallow of the strong brew. So much for his caffeine detox. But he needed it—probably a whole pot full—for the hours ahead. He turned half around, getting things running on his computers while also explaining. “She derives no benefit from going after Brax. It won’t win us back, and it risks one of Lily’s best protectors.”
“Okay,” Hawes
said. “Say we believe her.” He pulled out the chair next to Holt, spun it around, and straddled it backward. “How did that email get routed through FCI Dublin?”
Holt nodded at the monitors flickering to life. “That’s what she’s working on.” An incoming encrypted message dinged, and Holt rotated back to the console.
I’m in. Amelia’s message read. Opening door for you.
He’d been impressed as he and Amelia had devised their plan. While her hacking skills had originated in mimicry—observing him and using her eidetic memory to repeat his steps—she’d expanded her knowledge and learned the how and why behind certain digital maneuvers. She was a more than capable partner for this back trace.
A terminal box appeared—the door, courtesy of Amelia—and a few commands later, Holt was inside FCI Dublin’s system. A much faster process than if he’d had to hack in himself. Got it, he typed back. I’ll pull histories.
I’ve got the actives.
While she pinged all the current IP addresses that registered to FCI Dublin terminals, Holt pulled the histories of all IP addresses associated with FCI Dublin terminals the week before, of, and after the date the email about Brax had been sent to Assistant Chief Thompson. He’d compare the two lists, looking for two things. First, any one-time hits, which could indicate someone outside FCI Dublin using its IP addresses as a smokescreen to cover or divert. Second, IP addresses in use on the same dates, and then with Amelia’s help, the terminals and users attached to them. From that narrowed list, his team would then search for the connection to someone who wanted to frame Brax.
Someone like their grandmother.
“Amelia thinks it could be Rose,” Holt said to the audience still in the room.
“I considered it,” Hawes replied. “Brax is a loose end.”
Chris moved to stand behind him, hands on his husband’s shoulders. “By that token, we all are.”
Holt lifted his fingers off the keyboard and curled them into fists. Last year, when Papa Cal had died, when Amelia had been exposed along with Rose and the other traitors in their organization, all within short order, it had felt terrifyingly like that early morning in the desert when the floor had crumbled and the walls had come tumbling down around him and Brax. A dark, chaotic free fall. The only way he’d survived was by hacking his tail off and holding Lily close, making sure his family’s new empire succeeded and his daughter had everything she needed to weather the storm. He’d grieved the losses, but he’d never let himself get angry. But now… Now someone was coming after the person who’d kept him safe during that first free fall, the one person who’d been his port of calm in last year’s storm, and Holt was fucking furious, all the tamped down anger rushing to the surface. He glanced up, meeting Chris’s eyes, the detective’s words ringing in his ears.