by Leslie North
His wicked grin gave her naughty ideas before she tamped them down, along with the heat buzzing in her core. “You need a warrant to look in there. Anything you find will be inadmissible in court.”
“Yeah?” He gave a quick glance around then proceeded to remove the padlock and chain from the handle before peering inside. “What if I don’t plan to take Kevin Quinn to court?”
“What do you plan to do with him?” Felicity asked, even though it made absolutely no difference. Whatever Jace Stevens had planned for her suspect, it wouldn’t happen because she’d nab Quinn first. Bank on it.
“Bring him to justice.”
“And how will you do that if you don’t take him to court?” She couldn’t help following the guy inside the dark little shed, even though she knew she’d have to come back with a properly executed warrant later if she spotted anything important. Not to mention it creeped her the hell out. After what had happened with her poor brother, Charlie, and how he still carried the scars on his body and in his mind of the day she’d locked him inside a shed like this one and….
Jace turned suddenly, so close to her in the murky darkness that his warm, minty breath ghosted over her face and made her all swoony. Annoyed, she shook it off. FBI agents didn’t swoon over men, no matter how gorgeous. He grinned, his teeth even and white in the gloom. She had the crazy urge to trace her fingertip over his bottom lip to see if it felt as soft as it looked. “You don’t want to know.”
His gaze flickered to her lips before returning to her eyes and for one insane second she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he stepped back and placed his hands on his hips. “Nothing here. Only a lawn mower and some tools.” He headed out of the shed and she followed, squinting into the bright sun. “Should’ve known. Quinn always was one paranoid asshole.”
“Was he that bad during SEAL training?” she asked, holding her hand up to shield her eyes while he re-secured the shed.
“Yeah. That’s one of the reasons he wasn’t a good fit for the SEALs.” Jace dusted off his hands then walked around the trailer to peer into the windows, careful not to leave any footprints.
Okay. Maybe the guy was better than she’d given him credit for.
Jace continued talking as he moved, forcing her to trail after him. “The SEALs organization is all about teamwork. Can’t be a good team member if you’re always looking over your shoulder and suspicious of everyone else.”
They made a full circle of the property, ending up right where they’d started without spotting anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Damn. Sighing, Felicity turned to walk back to her SUV, Jace hot on her heels this time.
“So, where’s your partner?” he asked, his arm brushing against hers occasionally.
“Ted’s back at the hotel, handling some paperwork.”
“Right. Forgot about the red-tape bullshit the government makes you go through. That’s one thing I don’t miss about the military.”
“I’m surprised you ever bothered to fill out a form in your life,” she said, once she reached her Suburban’s door. “You seem pretty rebellious, cowboy.”
“That’s me. Rebel with a cause.” He leaned his hand against her vehicle, bringing his body closer to hers again and damn if those tingles didn’t start anew. Felicity held her ground though, refusing to be intimidated. His voice lowered to a velvet whisper. “Now, are you going to accept my help on this case or not?”
“Did I ask for it?” She frowned. “I don’t remember.”
“No asking necessary. The way I see it, you need me. Ted’s obviously ready to get out of the game. He practically came right out and said so himself when you both came to talk to me this morning. I’m busy at the compound, but have some free time in the afternoons and evenings. And I’ve got a vested interest in making sure this case is solved.”
“Because of Trevor Fellis.”
“Because of him and every other SEAL who was murdered.” His expression turned serious. “I want whoever did this caught. If Kevin Quinn’s responsible then I’ll make sure you get him.”
His offer was hard to reject. Ted was sitting back on this one, biding his time until his teaching application at Quantico went through. She loved the guy, but she could use an extra set of hands on the investigation. If she agreed to work with Jace Stevens on this, though, she wasn’t about to give her cowboy free rein. “If I take you up on your offer, you agree to follow my rules. Understand?”
“Anything you say.” He straightened and headed to his truck. “Challenge accepted. I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”
5
The next day found Jace back at the office, trying to get through the mounds of paperwork he hadn’t had time to complete because of his recent extra duties. Mundane things like enrollment forms and paying the electric bill. Nothing too hard or too taxing, just stuff he didn’t have time for. Especially now that he was planning to help Felicity with her case.
Not that he was complaining. He had no problem pulling his weight when needed.
It just wasn’t quite the same around Brothers In Arms without the guys.
The damned pipes creaked again and he made a mental note to call the construction crew again. Right after he finished the fifty million other tasks on his to-do list.
He sighed and finished entering the data for the new roster of students starting their Civilian Defensive Training Classes next week, then shut down his laptop. They were averaging two groups graduating each month, which barely kept the bills paid. He’d need to get out to the training facility building and make sure all the equipment was ready to go then walk the perimeters again before he left to do some more checking into Kevin Quinn.
Too bad he couldn’t clone himself. That would make things a hell of a lot easier.
Sighing, Jace pushed to his feet and headed next door to the new training gym they’d constructed the year before when the business had been growing like gangbusters. Now, things had slowed thanks to all the bad PR, but the loan payments were still due every month.
As he double-checked the hanging ropes and wrestling mats for damage or signs of wear, Jace knew that to get everything done, he needed to start working smarter, not harder. If Quinn was behind the SEAL murders, then it stood to reason he was behind what had happened here at the compound too. He’d make sure to note anything he found on his perimeter walk today and discuss it with Vann the next time they talked. The guy was the best damned tracker Jace had ever met.
In the meantime, he planned to make sure Quinn knew he was being watched. The FBI might want to keep their investigation a secret, but that didn’t mean Jace couldn’t put a little pressure of his own on the guy. And yeah, maybe they hadn’t found anything on Quinn’s property that didn’t mean the guy wasn’t guilty. Just meant he was smart.
After checking in the storage cupboard to make sure they had sufficient binders, T-shirts, and other supplies for their new class on Monday, Jace closed everything up for the weekend then walked across the gravel parking lot toward the fence on the far side of compound to start his patrol. Vann had told him about the footprints he frequently found as well as the tire tracks. Jace skirted the vineyards lining one side of their property, then headed back toward the flatlands where they sometimes conducted desert training for their law enforcement classes. Next, he hit the foothills then finally crossed the highway to check the small area of beach they owned. Forty acres gave them plenty of space to give their students plenty of different scenarios, including water rescue on the Pacific.
He found nothing out of place, nor did he find any suspicious footprints or tracks today. If Quinn was casing their property, perhaps they’d spooked him away by showing up at his trailer park. Good. Jace planned to scare the guy even more before this was over. He’d taken an instant dislike to Kevin Quinn during SEAL training, and as a guy who prided himself on his instincts and intuition, he now felt that dislike was justified.
Pulling out the keys to his truck, Jace climbed behind the wheel and started the eng
ine. He was scheduled to pull a shift at Burrell’s tonight too, driving emergency tow, but before he went in, he wanted to make another drive by of Kevin’s trailer to emphasize to the guy he was being watched. Maybe that would be enough to keep him away from the compound and keep him from hurting anyone else, at least for now.
6
“Ain’t this some fancy set-up?” Ted asked as they turned off the highway and headed toward a huge mansion perched on the top of the hill in the distance. “Got to love these rich folks, huh?”
Felicity snorted from the passenger seat, busy sorting through emails. “Yeah. Kind of reminds me of pictures my grandmother used to show me from the South of France.”
“That where your family’s from?” Ted asked, winding his way upward toward the house. “I always figured you were Scandinavian or something with all that blond hair.”
“On my dad’s side, yeah.” Felicity shut off her computer and smiled. “My mom’s side was Basque. Her mother immigrated from a small town near the French-Spanish border.”
“Huh.” Ted steered around a sharper curve then squinted over at her. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. You are pretty tan for a while girl.”
Laughing, Felicity shook her head. “Thanks.”
“Any time.” They reached the summit and drove up a long paved drive toward an elegant traditional style home. From the brick façade to the tall white columns lining the front portico, it could’ve come straight out of early Republic Washington, DC, which made sense given the political connections of the home’s former resident. Tim Rigsdale had been a mover and a shaker in the extreme alt-right conservative movement before his assassination right here on these grounds.
If memory served her correctly, the guy had held an impromptu press conference on his front yard to answer questions about his candidate of choice and their connection to a white supremacist group called The American Way. Seems racism, misogyny and xenophobia had not only gotten Tim Rigsdale a bullet to the brain, they’d eventually killed his candidate, Frank Sutton, too. Sutton’s body had been found at a gas station not far from here a few weeks ago, leaving more questions than answers in his case.
The one connecting line between both men, though, was Kevin Quinn.
Witnesses had reported spotting him at the first Frank Sutton rally months earlier and he’d worked with both Sutton and Tim Rigsdale to organize the American Way membership.
That’s why she and Ted were here. To speak with Tim’s widow, Kim Rigsdale.
Felicity shook her head and winced. God. Even their names sounded pretentious and too cutesy similar. Ted pulled to a stop outside the mansion’s grand portico and they got out, walking up to the imposing black front door with its sparkling gold knocker.
“Hell, it’s probably twenty-four-carat,” she said under her breath as Ted knocked.
“Yeah.” He snickered.
A uniformed butler let them inside an elegantly decorated foyer, filled with expensive-looking antiques and gilded mirrors. “Please wait here while I let Mrs. Rigsdale know of your arrival.”
The older man bowed slightly then disappeared down a long marble hall toward a room near the back. Felicity raised a brow at Ted, walking over to inspect one of the oil paintings on the wall more closely. A signed Kandinsky, worth at least forty million dollars. Yeah, these people were loaded. No doubt about it.
“Please, follow me,” the butler said, returning to the foyer.
Felicity and Ted followed him to the end of the hall into a beautifully appointed library. Shelf after shelf of rare books covered the walls. For a bookworm like Felicity it was like crack to a junkie. The rest of the space was a bit odd though. Most of the furniture was vintage, except for the sofa, which appeared brand new. The rug in front of it looked new as well, the pattern much different from the older Persian carpets surrounding it. The changes could be nothing, but Felicity filed the information away for later anyway.
One never knew where the big clues might come from.
On the new leather sofa sat a petite, platinum blond, pretty; or she would’ve been if her features weren’t so gaunt with strain. Felicity forced a polite smile and stepped forward, hand extended. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us today, Mrs. Rigsdale. I’m Special Agent Felicity Belasko and this is my partner, Special Agent Ted Wilson.”
The woman nodded, gesturing toward two leather wing chairs across from her. “Please have a seat. Would either of you care for something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” Felicity said, noting that the widow had a nearly empty glass of wine in her hand at four in the afternoon. A lit cigarette dangled from her thin, shaking fingers. Dark circles rimmed the woman’s blue eyes, as if she’d not been sleeping well, and the black dress she wore only washed out her already pale complexion. Kim Rigsdale looked haunted, hunted and scared.
“Mrs. Rigsdale,” Ted began, leaning forward slightly to rest his forearms on his knees. “We’re looking for information about a certain gentleman we believe your husband Tim may have worked with by the name of Kevin Quinn. Do you know him?”
Felicity didn’t miss the woman’s slight flinch at the mention of Quinn’s name.
“Please, call me Kim.” She tapped her cigarette on the edge of a nearby ashtray and blinked rapidly. “And yes, I’ve briefly met Mr. Quinn, but I don’t really know much about him.”
“How did you meet?” Felicity asked.
“He helped my husband with the Sutton campaign, organizing rallies, things like that.” Kim sat back and crossed her legs. “As I said, I really didn’t know him well at all.”
“And he also helped with The American Way group your husband started.” Ted pulled out his notebook and a pen. “Weren’t you involved in this group too, Kim?”
“Me? No, not really. I worked more on the fundraiser side of things. The politics were always Tim’s thing.” She sniffled and her expression crumpled. “I’m sorry.”
The butler rushed over with a box of Kleenex. She pulled several out. “Thank you. I’m sorry to break down, but losing my husband in such a brutal and unexpected way was horrible.”
Felicity watched the widow through her lashes. She’d trained in psychological cues at Quantico and things about Kim Rigsdale didn’t add up. Her tone sounded oddly hollow when she mentioned her husband’s grisly demise, devoid of any empathy or true sadness. She’d also made a huge show of blowing her nose loudly and avoided all eye contact with Felicity and Ted. The biggest giveaway though was the complete lack of tears. None.
She glanced sideways at Ted, who raised a brow but remained silent. The guy was built like a linebacker but hated to go in for the kill. Felicity on the other hand loved nailing a liar to the wall. “How long have you been sleeping with Kevin Quinn?”
Ted dropped his pad then cleared his throat, his expression stunned.
Kim’s pale cheeks quickly filled with crimson, her glazed eyes sparking with anger. “How dare you come in here and make assumptions about me!” She pushed to her feet, her steps unsteady, confirming Felicity’s suspicions that she’d been drinking, long and hard. “Get out!” she screeched, any pretense of manners gone. “Get the fuck out of my house now!”
The butler, who looked as alarmed as Ted at the abrupt shift in the woman’s demeanor, rushed to Kim’s side, doing his best to ease her back onto the sofa.
“We’ll just be going then,” Felicity said, biting back a smile. The whole thing seemed like a scene out of a movie, and damn if she didn’t savor the taste of victory. She’d been right about the two of them sleeping together, as confirmed by Kim’s over-the-top response.
The agents showed themselves out of the mansion while the poor butler dealt with the screaming, combative mess Kim Rigsdale had become. Once they were safely back in their SUV and heading back down the hillside again, Felicity finally allowed her chuckle to escape.
“Guess we won’t be invited back there again, huh?”
“Shit.” Ted shook his head. “Way to blindside the lady.”
Ted snorted. “True enough. So, she was screwing our suspect. What do you make of that?”
“Well, if she was sleeping with Quinn, it’s not such a leap to assume she was feeding him information too. About her husband, maybe about Frank Sutton as well.”
“Still doesn’t explain the connection to the SEALs though.”
Felicity adjusted her seatbelt so she could face Ted. “Quinn was a SEAL, or tried to be. So was Frank Sutton. Only difference is Sutton graduated. Quinn was flunked out by Jace.”
“Jace?” Ted narrowed his gaze. “You on a first name basis with that guy now?”
Heat prickled Felicity’s cheeks and she scooted to face front again. “I caught Mr. Stevens sneaking around Kevin Quinn’s trailer park yesterday. I confronted him about what he was doing and we agreed he’d help snoop for information, but within my guidelines. I figured having the guy work for us, where we could keep an eye on him, was better than letting him go rogue.”
“Keep an eye on him, huh?” Ted gave her a speculative stare. “That all it is?”
Felicity sighed. “Of course that’s all it is. You know I’m only here for the case.”
“Right. Sure.” Ted slowed to a stop near the bottom of the hill and waited for traffic to pass before pulling out onto the highway again, heading back toward Ortega. “You don’t date much, do you?”
“I date plenty.” Felicity said, uncomfortable with the spotlight pointed at her. Okay. Maybe “dating” wasn’t precisely the right term. She hooked-up, had one-night stands. Short term flings required less time and energy, and way less emotional involvement. Not that it was any of Ted’s business. “And what are you anyway? My new Love Guru?”
“Hell, no. I just worry about you sometimes.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”