Chapter Four

Rowan struggled to keep her professional demeanor in place as she faced Oceane and her mother from across her paper-cluttered desk. The FBI was currently scrambling to make arrangements for some security for the two women, who still refused to see reason. It was as mystifying as it was frustrating.

They’d been over this same issue a half dozen times already over the past few days, and each time Rowan thought the women were about to agree to enter WITSEC, they dug in their heels again. Out of desperation, because of his rapport with the ladies, her boss had personally tried to sway them to go into the program an hour ago. Now, in a last ditch effort to change their minds, he’d tasked Rowan with trying to sway them.

“I understand that this must be scary and overwhelming for you,” she began to Oceane in as calm a tone as she could manage.

Everything about this day sucked so far. If she’d been sore yesterday, today she was in serious pain. Every muscle in her neck, shoulders and upper back was exquisitely tender. The extra strength Tylenol she’d taken for her headache hadn’t touched the pain, and she was bone-deep tired.

When she’d finally made it home from the office last night, her father had shown up just as she was falling asleep—because apparently even whiplash wasn’t a good enough excuse to avoid signing the paperwork for him. Now she had a small mountain of work piled on her desk and another twelve-to-fourteen-hour day ahead of her before she could drag herself home in her rental car and finally crawl back into bed.

She held Oceane’s blue-gray gaze as she continued. “But the only real way to guarantee your safety until the authorities figure out who was behind the attack on you and neutralize the threat, is for you both to go into the WITSEC program.” Why couldn’t she see that?

Oceane sighed in impatience and pushed some chocolate-brown curls away from her face. “I have already told you, we’re not doing that.” Her accented voice was calm, her tone final. “The FBI agent I spoke to this morning said he would find us another option.”

“Maybe, but that option won’t be as secure as having a team of highly-trained U.S. Marshals guarding you in an undisclosed location.” No one could force either of them to enter the program, however. It was voluntary. Oceane had been annoyingly tight-lipped about their reasons for refusing to enter WITSEC.

“I understand.” Her mother nudged Oceane with an elbow, said something in rapid Spanish that Rowan didn’t have a hope of catching. Oceane nodded and turned to Rowan. “Have you heard anything new in the investigation? About who attacked us?”

“Fue Ruiz,” the mother said in an adamant tone, her face set, and though Rowan didn’t speak much Spanish, she understood her meaning well enough. The woman blamed Ruiz for what had happened to them.

“The investigators are looking into every possible option,” Rowan said, not willing to give anything away. New information and leads seemed to be coming in hourly, but federal authorities were tight-lipped about what they’d found. Only rock solid evidence pertinent to the case against Ruiz was passed on to the U.S. Attorney’s office.

From what Rowan had been told, so far Oceane and her mother had been frustratingly reticent to share information about Nieto and the cartel. She got the sense that Oceane was still in the dark about a lot of it, but the mother definitely knew things, and she wasn’t talking until she got what she wanted: federal protection of some kind outside of WITSEC, and a guarantee from the government that they would be allowed to remain in the U.S. after the Ruiz case was over. A tall order, considering they were both Mexican nationals. For the government to give them residency or citizenship, the women were going to have to give them something big.

At least three different agencies were currently working on their case, each frantically trying to find a lead that might help investigators unravel what was currently going on within the cartel. Information was sketchy.

From a string of recent attacks on labs and other operations in Mexico, it seemed as if Nieto had declared war on what was left of Ruiz’s territory. Everyone involved in the case hoped that at least one of those threads might lead back to El Escorpion, whoever he was, so they could begin dismantling the Venenos’ sprawling narcotics empire.

The pounding at the base of her skull got worse as Oceane and Anya didn’t respond to her point, merely stared at her.

Her patience snapped. Her attempts to be the nice guy hadn’t worked. Time to put some pressure on. “Here’s the deal. You expect our government to jump through hoops to protect you, then you need to give us something solid today, or you’ll both be deported back to Mexico.” She stopped, glanced up when someone knocked on her door and pushed it open. Val raised his eyebrows at her in question and she gave a subtle shake of her head, the motion intensifying her headache.

Val’s mouth tightened in a frustration she understood all too well. “Just got a call from Commander Taggart. The temporary protective detail will be here in a few minutes.”

Surprised, Rowan blinked at him. Taggart? The DEA and FBI were calling in a FAST team on this? “Oh. Who is it?”

“No idea.”

As he started to pull the door shut behind him, her cell phone rang from the corner of her desk. She glanced at it, expecting it to be the body shop calling with an estimate about repairs to her car, but instead her brother’s picture popped up on the screen.

“Excuse me,” she said to the women. “I need to take this.” Well, actually she needed a few minutes’ break from this futile argument, and more pain relievers. As soon as the women left her office, it was back to the mountain of paperwork she still had to wade through.

Stepping out into the hall, she answered the call with a tired sigh, rubbing the back of her sore neck. “Hey.”

“Wow. Bad day already?” Kevin asked. “It’s only eight in the morning.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, turning the corner so she could talk in a little alcove for some privacy. “What are you up to?”

“I’m at Mom and Dad’s. He had some banking stuff and whatever that I had to sign.”

That was promising, their father adding Kevin to his bank accounts as he restructured his estate. Things had been strained between them until recently. “I did that last night.”

When Kevin had first come out to their parents officially five years ago, it hadn’t gone so well. Their dad had taken it especially hard. Either due to his alpha male ego, archaic beliefs, or maybe embarrassment, he’d refused to accept it.

Over the last eighteen months or so he and Kevin had mostly stabilized their rocky relationship, but only because her brother had adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy about his personal life with their parents. Kevin told Rowan everything, though. They weren’t just siblings, they were the best of friends.

“How are you feeling? You sore?” Kevin asked.

“More than I bargained for. I would give anything to crawl back in bed and stay there.”

He made a sound of sympathy. “And I bet you’re working late tonight again, huh.”

“Every day from now until I die, yes,” she said with a wry chuckle, only half-joking. “I’ve signed on for a lifetime of indentured servitude.”

“A chip off the old block. Dad must be so proud,” Kevin teased, and Rowan winced inside. She’d certainly done her best to follow in their father’s footsteps, but he left a wide trail to follow and she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to match it. Deep down, she didn’t want to. “How about I bring you dinner there later on? I’ll get takeout from that Greek place you love.”

He was so good to her. “This is why you’re my favorite brother.”

“I know. You’re lucky to have me.”

“And you never let me forget it.” She was two years older. “And I still think I won the sibling jackpot.”

“Just for that, I’m bringing crème caramel for dessert. And I’ll even take the takeout containers home with me when I leave.”

“You’re a saint.”

“I know. See you at six?” He worked at a pharmacy a few blocks from her office. They had lunch together at least once a week, unless she was preparing for a big case like this one. She missed just spending time with him; he always made her feel better about everything. And she wanted to confide in him about Malcolm, since he’d been the one to introduce the two of them at that veteran’s charity gala last year.

“Perfect. See you then.”

Back in her office, she gave up trying to sway the women to enter WITSEC and tried instead to get more information about Ruiz from Oceane, who translated for her mother. Anya had detailed her account of the attack on her home in Veracruz, as well as given some information on Nieto’s finances that the FBI was looking into as a means of tracking him. But nothing else about his operations, what she knew of his criminal activity, and nothing on the cartel itself.

Rowan wasn’t yet sure if either of the women would be needed to testify against Ruiz, since their contact with him had been minimal, but they were the investigators’ best chance of cracking the Veneno cartel wide open.

A knock at the door stopped their conversation. All three of them looked over as it opened, and the sight of Malcolm standing there in the doorway was a punch to Rowan’s senses.

He wore a pair of dark jeans that hugged his powerful thighs, and a pale blue button down that stretched across his chest and shoulders. He’d worn it on their first date, when he’d taken her out to a fancy restaurant on the waterfront. The echo of excited butterflies stirred in her belly at the memory of that night.

“I’m here for Anya,” he said, then looked at Oceane and pushed the door open wider, revealing another big, fit man beside him with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. One of his teammates. “This is Special Agent Gabe Lockhart. He’s been assigned to you.”

Oceane cast an uncertain glance at Rowan before speaking to her mother in Spanish and standing. “You’re our bodyguards?” she asked Malcolm.

Rowan was surprised as well. Why had two FAST Bravo members been tasked with this assignment? And did Malcolm even speak Spanish?

He nodded, his expression grave. “For now. Are you finished in here?” he asked Rowan.

“Yes, for the moment,” she said quickly, covering a wince as she pushed her chair back and got to her feet.

He gestured for Anya to follow him. “This way.”

Rowan trailed after them into the hall, overcome by the strangest sense of abandonment as Malcolm walked away from her. Part of her wanted to call him back.

The thought came out of nowhere, taking her completely off guard. Why did she feel such a strong desire to hold on to him now, when she’d been the one to let him go?

“What about our things?” Oceane asked him as she walked beside her mother. Agent Lockhart followed them, and Rowan behind him.

“Another agent will bring them to your safe house later.” Malcolm stopped and addressed Oceane, ignoring Rowan. For some reason that hurt, though she understood why he didn’t want anything to do with her, and he was here in a professional capacity, not a social one. Except it confused her, his apparent one-eighty after being so concerned and caring after the accident. Now she had two kinds of whiplash. “We’ll give you a minute to say goodbye,” he said, looking between Oceane and her mother.

Oceane’s blue-gray eyes went wide and she gasped as his meaning sank in. “Goodbye?”

He nodded once. “Protocol dictates you’ll be transported to the secure location separately for your own safety.”

Uh oh… Rowan glanced at Oceane, already knowing how that would be received.

“No.” Oceane darted forward to grab her mother’s upper arm and step in front of her, raising her chin. “We will not be separated.”

“Yes, you will.”

At that hard voice they all looked to the left as Commander Taggart strode toward them from the direction of the elevator, his expression set. “My men have been tasked with your protection. For everyone’s safety, you and your mother will be taken in different vehicles.” There was absolute steel in his tone.

Oceane shook her head, panic bleeding through in her expression, clearly believing this was a trick. That she and her mother would be separated for good. “No.” She spoke in rapid Spanish to her mother, whose eyes filled with horror at the news, then launched into her own tirade.

Taggart put up a hand to stop her. “I realize it’s not what you want. But it’s the way it is. It’s all documented right here.” He pulled out a letter from his back pocket and handed it to her. Oceane scanned it, her brows knitted together.

Malcolm finally looked over at Rowan as the two women continued arguing and pleading with Taggart, one in English and the other in Spanish, and she could tell by the resigned look on his face that he hadn’t volunteered for this assignment. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but as far as Anya’s safety was concerned, the woman couldn’t be placed in better hands.

“I want to speak to the agent in charge of our case,” Oceane said.

“You can speak to him on the way to your safe house,” Taggart answered, “but right now, you’re going. Individually.”

“My mother doesn’t speak English.”

“That won’t affect Agent Freeman’s ability to protect her.”

When Oceane opened her mouth to argue again, Rowan stepped in. “If it helps, I can guarantee these men’s word. You’ll both be taken to the same location, I promise, and you’ll both get there safely. Agent Freeman served in the military before joining the DEA, and with all his training and experience, he’s well qualified to be your mother’s security detail,” she said, without giving too much about his background away.

She could feel Malcolm’s dark stare boring into her, didn’t have the guts to meet his gaze as she continued. “Agent Lockhart works with him and is also former military,” she added, not wanting to come right out and say they were teammates, or in what capacity they worked together.

Most of what FAST Bravo did was classified. Oceane and her mother didn’t have the security clearance necessary to know more. The only reason Rowan knew what she did was because of her history with Malcolm and her involvement with the Ruiz case, and even her knowledge was limited. “You and your mother will both be in good hands with these men until other arrangements can be made.”

Oceane stared at her in uncertainty, a worried frown pulling her brows together. “You know Agent Freeman personally?”

“Yes.” At least, I used to.

The frown didn’t ease. “And if you were in my place, you would trust him to guard your mother, and not take us away from each other?”

“I would trust him with my life,” she answered without hesitation.

It was true. In Oceane or Anya’s shoes, Rowan absolutely would trust him to keep her safe. Malcolm was not only a former SEAL, he was a man of integrity and strength. He was a professional, and highly skilled at what he did. None of that had any bearing on why she’d chosen to end things between them. She’d had her reasons. Solid, practical reasons she didn’t want to think about right now.

While Oceane continued to study her, Rowan felt the continued weight of Malcolm’s stare pressing on her. Again, she didn’t look at him, not willing to risk it because she couldn’t bear to see coldness or anger in his eyes.

“And remember, this is only temporary,” she added, trying to sell this solution to her skeptical witnesses. “Maybe even as little as a few days until this all gets sorted out.” Until you give us something good on Ruiz and Nieto, or come to your senses and enter WITSEC.

Oceane exhaled a ragged breath, cast a worried look at her mother, then gave in with a nod, her shoulders relaxing a little. “All right.” She pulled her mother into a fierce, protective hug, murmured something soothing to her in Spanish.

During the lull, Rowan could no longer ignore the force of that magnetic stare locked on her. Steeling herself, she met Malcolm’s gaze and the breath stopped in her lungs at the mix of raw emotion burning there. Surprise. Frustration. Maybe even a measure of gratitude.

But he masked it quickly, breaking eye contact as he switched his attention to Anya and raised his eyebrows. “Ready?”

The woman nodded, cast a tearful glance at her daughter, as though afraid it might be the last time she laid eyes on Oceane, and followed Malcolm. Lockhart and Oceane went next, with Taggart on their heels.

Standing alone in the hallway when they disappeared around the corner, Rowan blew out a deep breath and rolled her head from side to side. Now her chest ached as much as her head. Why couldn’t she stop the longing Malcolm generated inside her? Why did watching him walk away hurt so damn much when it’s exactly what she’d wanted a year ago?

“You are a magician,” Val said as he stepped up beside her. “Thought for a minute there we were going to have a screaming match. How’d you smooth everything over?”

Rowan shrugged, her sore shoulder muscle screaming in protest. “Just told them the truth.”

But not all of it. Because the whole truth was, she missed Malcolm like hell.