“She said Mexico,” she said, nodding in her mother’s direction.
“That was his family’s plane. The flight plan they filed this morning. The Chicago PD isn’t too concerned about tracking down someone for domestic assault in Cancun.”
“You don’t think he’s on that plane?” she guessed.
He shook his head. “Remi, it’s already hit the news. The divorce, the abuse allegations, and now a botched arrest. He’s got nothing left to lose.”
She closed her eyes again and let out a shaky breath. The one thing, the tiny veneer of protection Camille had against the monster, had been stripped away. Warren Vorhees no longer had a face worth saving. He was already ruined. And there was only one thing worth living for now.
Revenge.
“He’s coming here,” she said.
“He won’t get near you as long as you do what I say.”
She felt utterly helpless and disgusted by it. Brick and her mother could strap on guns and march off to face danger. But she had to lock herself away inside and wait for someone else to finish the fight. It felt wrong. Because this was as much her fight as anyone else’s.
If Warren was out for blood, so was she. She wanted to be the one to turn the key in the lock. To watch the embers of his power snuff out and die. She wanted him to be revealed for exactly what he was. An inhuman monster with nothing to live for.
“Remington,” Brick said, the warning clear in his growl.
“What?” she asked, stubbornly.
“I know that look. This isn’t some illegal party on Round Island that you’re missing out on. This is life or death. This is a battle I’m trained to fight. One that I’m not going to lose. But you have to do your part.”
“Yeah. My part is to play the damsel in distress in my stupid ivory tower because once again, I’m incapable of taking care of myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“This isn’t me going off to fight your war. We’re partners in this. And we’ve got to play to our strengths. Which means I go break the bad guy’s face while you keep Camille in one piece. She needs you right now. She’s minutes from falling to pieces. That’s why she came to you. Because you’re the strong one. So let me fight the enemy while you protect your friend.”
She glared at him, then rolled her eyes. “Damn it. You’re really good at that.”
He pulled her into his chest, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the busy bullpen around them. “Yeah? Just wait till I ask my big question.”
“Brick, I swear to God, if you turn it into something like ‘Remington Honeysuckle Ford, will you get tacos with me tonight?’ I will be ordering an extra large body bag and digging a real big hole in the Grand Hotel’s rose garden.”
He ran a hand gently over her face. A sweet, soft, soothing touch. “Are you telling me you’d turn me down for tacos?”
She felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Of course not. I’m not an idiot. I’d eat the tacos and then bury your body.”
“You’re a hell of a woman, Remi.”
“Yeah. Yeah. And you’re my big brawny man mountain who had better make Warren Vorhees regret ever laying a hand on a woman.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic. But I still like the sound of it.”
Her flirtatious retort was cut off by the station door flying open. In strolled two scowling suits. The first, a woman, long and lean in a boxy polyester suit the color of horse shit. The second was a baby-faced man who looked like he’d practiced his scowl in the mirror and wouldn’t be able to grow facial hair if he tried.
“Who are they?” Remi asked.
“Feds,” Brick growled.
According to every cop TV show she had ever watched, a territorial pissing match was about to occur. One that had probably never happened in the history of Mackinac Island.
“Oh, boy,” she said.
Brick gripped her arm and steered her toward the side door. “You’re going home.”
“But I want to watch my mom yell at these guys.” Remi pouted.
“I’ll re-enact it for you later,” he promised.
She heaved a sigh. “Fine. But I want you to do the facial expressions and the accents,” she insisted.
“God, I love you.” Heedless of the audience, he grabbed her by the chin and kissed the hell out of her.
A few of the other officers who weren’t staring down the suits whistled their approval.
“Don’t forget to come home this time,” she said when he’d pulled away and her head stopped spinning.
“I can’t go another night without you.”
She started for the door, but Brick stopped her. “Turk? You mind walking Remi home?”
“I can get myself home,” she scoffed.
Carlos jumped up from his desk. “Sure thing,” he said.
“What did we just talk about not even five minutes ago?” Brick demanded gruffly.
“I don’t really recall. I was too busy thinking about you naked.”
“You’re evil.”
“Have fun with that hard-on, big guy,” she said, tapping him in the balls and breezing out the door with Carlos Turk on her heels.
50
Special Agent Jana Brice was an ambitious pain in the ass. Her partner, Junior Agent Harold White, was just plain annoying. Fishing for a pissing contest and flashing his Department of Justice badge all over the fucking place. Brick disliked them both on sight.
Fortunately he didn’t have to play nice with them. That was up to the chief who, after the first five minutes, looked like she was going to choke on her own tongue from restraining herself.
“I’m guessing since you two showed up on my doorstep eighteen hours after my little report hit your desk that you’ve already got an investigation going,” Darlene mused.
White slouched in his chair as if he were a bored parent at a band concert. Meanwhile Brice sat ramrod straight, flat brown eyes locked on Darlene’s.
Brick was used to men’s pissing matches. The female element made the contest more subtle and more terrifying.
“We need to speak with Mrs. Vorhees as soon as possible,” Special Agent Brice announced.
Chief Ford eyed Brick for a beat. “That can be arranged. While my sergeant here makes arrangements, you can talk to me about what kind of protection you can offer my witnesses.”
There was a special territorial emphasis on the “my” that had Brick’s lips quirking. He left the office and dialed his father’s phone number.
“Brick!” Once again, William sounded delighted that his son was calling. In the background, he could hear the happy chatter of women. The normalcy of it loosened the knots in his gut. He once again marveled that in the span of less than two months, he’d gone from being a bachelor living alone to sharing his house with so many people they’d blown a fuse with too many hair dryers going at the same time.
“Dad, I’m going to be swinging by the house with a couple of federal agents. They want to talk to Camille and Remi and probably you.”
“Okay,” his father said, waiting.
“I wanted to give you a heads up in case there’s any reason why you wouldn’t want to be questioned by an agent.”