Most agents hate surveillance. Nate loathed surveillance passionately. He found it especially hateful when he was alone trying to keep himself awake, and his partner was on the inside, in danger, where he would be unable to reach her.

He’d been parked alongside the Skagit Valley–Fir Island road since late Tuesday evening, arriving as soon as possible after Klay’s text. The narrow road was rural, rising and dipping along the small hills and depressions crossing the Skagit Valley floor. Farms lay on either side of the road, stretching miles ahead and behind where Nate was parked under a huge stand of cottonwood trees. He left only when he had to, long enough to pee and grab another go-cup of coffee.

He didn’t even get to use his own car. Too flashy. Klay insisted he take one of the cars waiting for auction, so he’d chosen a late-1980s F-150. Once upon a time it had been white with an aqua-blue stripe along the body. Now it was mostly a big dent with a little paint on it. It fit in perfectly, and if anyone saw a medium-height redheaded man sitting in it for long periods, they would probably assume he was waiting for a drug buy or was already high. Nothing like a meth and opioid epidemic as an excuse to sit and stare for long periods of time.

No one looked twice; no cars slowed down to see what he was doing. No one called the cops. No cops even drove out on this backwater road. Nate was dying of boredom. The suspect Gomez heard was supposed to visit his aunt had still not shown up. Nate was sweltering in the truck, and last night he hadn’t left because he’d be too far away if she texted. She hadn’t texted. His mind roiled with the implications: Was she compromised? Injured? Locked up somewhere? Why had Alejandro Rosales not shown? Had he been tipped off? Or was the information faulty? Nate could not turn off the worried thoughts circling his brain.

Also, watching the workers toil in fields muddy from giant irrigation sprinklers gushing water under the heat of the July sun was killing him. Groups of laborers were assigned to different parts of the fields, and a truck very similar to his would drive between them, the driver barking out orders and picking up the boxes that had been filled with produce. This particular farm had several different crops and was supposedly known for its organic produce sold both locally and southward. Nate thought that if most consumers were aware of the conditions their fancy kale was harvested under, they would be horrified.

He wondered what Miguel had done for the holiday. Had to be better than sitting half-awake in a truck all night, listening to the bangs of illegal fireworks going off all over the county. The truck did have a bench seat, so it had that in its favor. Nate wasn’t so tall that he couldn’t make himself kind of comfortable by lying across the seat and shutting his eyes for five to ten minutes at a time.

His phone buzzed. Grabbing it from its perch on the dash, he read the text.

DB – Centralia ID/AR

The message was from Klay. Dead body found in Centralia, identified as Alejandro Rosales. Great. Their closest thing to a lead in this case managed to get himself killed.

Another text buzzed in.

NG?

No. Nate hadn’t heard from Gomez.

sammy trade 15 min.

Once Sammy Ferreira had taken over, Nate spent ten minutes at home under the cool spray of his shower before toweling off and getting dressed again. By nine a.m. he was heading back to the ratty business park where the team had offices.

Klay impatiently awaited him. Leading him into one of the interview rooms, Klay veered off first and grabbed a cup of coffee. “You want one?”

Yes, but not that swill.

Klay read the expression on his face with accuracy. “Yeah, this coffee is shit.”

Nate and Klay were the same height, but Klay could snap Nate in two. Well, he could if Nate weren’t highly trained in several defensive arts. Klay made Nate a little nervous, even after being on the team for a year. They sat down, and Klay placed the file folder he’d brought with him on the small table.

“It looks like Rosales was killed in a robbery.” Klay slid the file over to Nate. Nate opened it and began flipping through the pages. A baby-faced killer lay in a pool of blood on the floor of a 24-hour convenience store. Rosales had been wanted for kidnapping, extortion, and the double murder of his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. Also a few minor drug charges.

“Looks like?” Nate asked.

“Still waiting for forensics on the shells recovered at the scene. As it seems right now, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Walked in on a burglary in process. The clerk didn’t live either; witnesses are scarce.”

“What does this mean for Gomez?”

“We’re going to keep her where she is for now. May try to get Sammy in there too. Having Rosales kick the bucket like this was a little too convenient. I’m not convinced. This means you need to stick around the area, on call but separate. I don’t want them connecting you and Gomez. You can catch up on those remote trainings you’ve been avoiding. All stuff you’ll need to finish by the end of the year anyway. Might as well get it over with.” Klay had an irritating glint in his eye.

Nate was reasonably certain he didn’t whimper out loud. Remote training was the worst. Who had he pissed off? Hours of mind-numbing procedure videos followed by quizzes? His brain was going to turn to mush.

Klay grinned as if he could read the thoughts running through Nate’s head. “There’s a couple super fun ones.”

“I’m sorry, boss, but you should never be allowed to utter the words ‘super’ and ‘fun.’”

The wicked smile spread wider across Klay’s face. “Would you rather do the ergonomics one? Or ‘Established Hierarchy of How to Check Out Sensitive Materials’?” Klay laughed. “Stick around town, do your normal stuff. Try to stay busy and not worry about Gomez. She’s a capable agent; she knows how to handle herself.”

At his car, Nate let out the groan he had been holding in. Then he started the engine and headed into downtown. He needed a real cup of coffee. He’d never been in this kind of weird work limbo before. Klay had assured him it was just for the time being, but Nate still felt twitchy—off balance. Time on his hands was not something he was used to.

He’d almost made it to the Booking Room—Klay’s friend owned it, so the team generally hung out there—when his phone buzzed with a recognizable ring tone. Nate let it go to voicemail. Apparently his behavior had made the rounds. Now one of his sisters was calling to add her voice to the cacophony of those who thought he was misbehaving. To try and convince him that he should move back home and drop the pretense of a career in law enforcement.

None of them understood him. None of them tried. They all wanted him to force himself to fit into the mold he had been groomed for. Not a single family member had ever stopped to ask what he wanted. What his dream life looked like. It bothered him. It hurt that people who were supposed to accept him and encourage him, instead saw his behavior as traitorous.

He sighed. At himself. Because the other side of the story was, these people were his family. The only one he had.

Before he got out of his car, he jabbed at the screen to return the call. Might as well get it over with.

“Hi, Mel.”

“Nate.” Mel had a deep voice and was the only sibling he looked remotely like. Mel didn’t have the same bright-red hair, but they did share a plethora of freckles between the two of them. She was fourteen years older. Their mother had dutifully had three children in a row, each two years apart. Then eight years passed before Nate appeared on the scene. Something none of his siblings ever let him forget.

Nate didn’t remember his mother that well. Mostly his memories of her involved smells. Freshly baked bread, clean laundry, dish bubbles and singing together. He must have spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her. She had been killed in a car accident when he was only three. From that time Mel had raised him. His paternal grandmother had come to live with them, but Mel had been the one who nurtured him. Which, Nate supposed, was why it was so hard to cut all the ties. He kept hoping that something between the two of them would snap back, and they could return to the easy relationship they’d once had.

Something had happened when Nate was in high school. He hadn’t suspected anything at the time, because… oblivious teenager. It wasn’t until later that he realized their relationship had changed. Mel had stopped being there for him. Stopped stepping in when their father became unreasonable. Stopped calling to check on him.

Left on his own, Nate did the best he could to avoid his father and get on with getting out of the family home. His other sisters had never had any interest in him whatsoever unless it was to tease or torment him. Usually they acted as if he hadn’t even been born—except to send him embarrassing gifts on his birthday. Which was fine. If it meant that the terrible two ignored him, Nate was fine with that.

“What’s up?”

“Calling to wish you a happy birthday.”

“My birthday was last week. I think the window for belated, especially when it’s your own brother, has passed.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“So why did you really call?” Nate needed to erase any semblance of fifteen-year-old normalcy from this phone call. “Did Dad tell you to call?”

Mel was silent for a beat, a beat too long, and she knew it. “He did.”

It hurt that Mel wouldn’t call him on her own. That it took Clint Richardson asking her before she would pick up a phone. And since when had she started doing their father’s bidding? From the beginning of high school, Mel had actively avoided Nate, focusing instead on her career.

“What happened to you?” The words were out before he thought or could stop them. They’d been on the tip of his tongue for so long, Nate was actually surprised he hadn’t uttered them sooner. “What happened? When I was in high school. One day we were little bro and big sis, just like it had always been. And then everything changed.”

This question had been burning in his gut for years. Maybe it was because he was sitting in the safety of his car, a kind of bubble. Maybe it was the raw emotion he was feeling being sidelined from the case, his worry over Gomez. All the brotherly feelings that had been floating around in his head for a decade or so had attached themselves to her. And now he was being asked to step back while she went to slay the dragon.

Or maybe Nate was just tired of being lied to, or, more accurately, treated like an afterthought.

The line was silent, but Mel hadn’t hung up. She was still there with him. “This isn’t a good time to talk about the past.”

“In our family is there ever a good time to talk about the past?” He paused. “Mel.” He recalled his memories of her before the change—when she would sing with him, walk him to school if she could; she even made him lunch until sometime in middle school. Those memories were his happiest. “Please. Please don’t keep telling me nothing happened.”

“I won’t. I can’t tell you that.” Mel’s voice sounded tired, and Nate realized it was getting late on the east coast, nearly ten. Mel was always up by four or five a.m., heading into the city. She’d avoided the family firm by becoming a financial advisor and eventually a trader on Wall Street. “She makes good money, for a woman,” their father said on those rare occasions he mentioned Mel, as if the fact that a woman made money offended him. “But I can’t talk about it on the phone either. I don’t want any drama with you right now, okay? I called because Dad was drinking and called me. I got worried. I’m sorry for missing your birthday. Did you have fun?”

Damn. Whatever Mel had been close to confessing, the opportunity had disappeared when she changed the subject.

“I ended up having fun. I met someone.” Nate wasn’t sure how to describe Miguel. He wasn’t a friend, but maybe on the way to being one? “We ended up going shopping.”

“Oh!” He heard the smile in Mel’s voice. “What’s her name?”

And there it was. That unnerving feeling in his stomach. Did men not shop together? Was it wrong of Nate to have enjoyed himself so much doing a mundane thing like shopping? “His name is Miguel Ramirez. I met him at a wedding, but he was moving, and I saw him when I was going for a run, so I ended up helping him out.” Please let the verbal diarrhea stop. “That’s how we ended up going shopping. And I did have a good time.”

“Shopping,” she said.

“Yeah, he needed stuff for his kitchen.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating? Are the girls pretty in Skagit?”

Nate rolled his eyes at the inevitable question. “No, Mel. You know I work a ton of hours and my schedule is too variable for dating.”

“You should come home,” Mel breathed, almost too quietly.

Nate laughed. “I can’t get away like that. You know how it is, married to the job.” New Jersey wasn’t home anymore.

“You’re still so young, Nate; don’t let it go too long before you find someone. You don’t want to end up a spinster like me—or whatever the male version is called.”

“Why haven’t you ever married, Mel? And how come I’m the one who gets shit for it?” The question popped out; he’d never asked Mel before why she was still single at nearly forty. Not that he had any working knowledge of her life.

“I gotta go. Happy birthday, little brother.”

“Bye, Mel.”

Nate was glad he’d taken the phone call in his car. When he unlocked the front door and went inside the coffee shop, he was able to leave it behind him with only a lingering niggle.

The Booking Room was busy. There were two employees behind the counter, one in the kitchen, and a fourth bussing tables and emptying trash. Nate was slightly miffed. He stood for a few minutes with his coffee and sandwich before a group of three left, leaving their table a mess but free to sit at. While he was putting his food down, the busboy came over and wiped the table off.

“Thanks.”

The young man’s reply, if there was one, was so quiet Nate didn’t hear it over the ambient noise around them. He settled in at the table, pulling his laptop out of his bag. Who knew how many emails he had waiting, and Klay would want a written report. And, crud, he could see which online course he needed to finish first.

“Excuse me.”

Nate looked up to see a man a little older than him standing by his table. Internally Nate smirked; it was one of those guys who obviously went to the gym—a lot—and made sure everyone knew it by wearing tight short-sleeved polo shirts that displayed his enormous biceps and ripped abs. Not the kind of person Nate was drawn to.

“Do you mind if I grab a seat? This place is full.”

“Yeah, sure.” Nate motioned for the guy to sit down. The stranger did, pulling out his own laptop and placing it on the table. Nate tried to ignore him as he clicked through his personal email. Emails from old friends wishing him a happy birthday; a reminder he had a dentist appointment next week. Oh—he waggled his eyebrows—a special letter from the British government about money being held in his name; he only needed to reply with all of his personal information. Nate huffed a laugh.

“Funny email?” His table partner’s voice interrupted Nate’s private mirth.

“Uh, yeah.” Random people didn’t normally try to talk to him. “One of those ‘Send me your info and you’ll get all the money’ scams.”

“Those are funny. My name’s Scott.” Leaning across the table, he extended a large hand.

“Nate.” Nate shook Scott’s hand automatically. Good lord, did he intend on chatting?

“Are you from the area?” Scott had an intense sort of gaze and complex hazel eyes. His nose had been broken, maybe more than once.

Seriously? Did Scott not know his laptop meant work? Nate hadn’t come here to chat. He’d come to avoid being alone at home. Nate shoved down his irritation. He hadn’t slept the night before; it wouldn’t kill him to chat.

“Nope. I’m from the East Coast.”

“Seems like no one’s from around here.”

“There’s a few.” If Nate kept his answers short, maybe the conversation would be too.

Scott leaned back in his chair—Nate could swear he heard it creak under his bulk—and crossed his big arms across his beefy chest. Nate caught himself, not exactly ogling, because for one thing Scott had an air about him that Nate couldn’t put a finger on, but it sure felt as if Scott was looking back at Nate in a way that felt more… appraising, and possibly sexual?

It was kind of flattering. He’d never been the one people gravitated to. In high school and college he had always ended up being the voice of reason, and when that didn’t work he rushed in, saving people from themselves.

Nate flashed back to his impromptu day with Miguel, how silly and carefree it had been. The time had flown by; if work hadn’t called him away, who knew what might have happened. Nate was aware enough to know he was very open to something happening. He just wasn’t sure how to get from point A to point B. You weren’t supposed to approach a relationship as if it was some kind of science experiment.

“And what would your hypothesis be, Nate?” I hypothesize that sex with Miguel Ramirez would be amazing. It’s possible the experience would be life changing. “How do you plan on proving your hypothesis?” The first step would be, obviously, sex. He chuckled shaking his head at his overactive imagination. He had no delusions about how attractive he was. Miguel might stoop to a quickie with Nate, but a man like him? Miguel had so many others to choose from. Starting with the guy he’d obviously had sex with at that wedding. Surely Miguel would be going back for more.

It was unnerving how much Miguel had been on Nate’s mind since the night he’d driven him home. Nate kept finding his thoughts drifting from the investigation to the goofy antics at the kitchen store or the disappointment Nate had seen flash across Miguel’s face when Nate said he couldn’t take him up on his offer of dinner.

“What do you do around here for fun?” Scott interrupted his musing.

Nate supposed he shouldn’t say, “Hang out at the kitchen store with a handsome nut who effortlessly makes the world a brighter place.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a lot of hiking and, of course, mountain biking. Fishing, both river and open water, if you like that kind of stuff.”

“I meant, like,” Scott leaned closer across the table, “a place where a new guy in town could meet people.”

Oh. “Uh,” Nate wracked his brain. He didn’t go out. How would he know where to go? Except he had met Klay at a bar once. “There’s a place called the Loft… but,” he quickly clarified, “I think it’s a gay bar. Mostly. I mean, you don’t have to be gay to go there. But a lot of gay guys do.”

Scott laughed. “Good to know.”

Lack of sleep was catching up with Nate. Coffee wasn’t doing enough to keep the foot out of his mouth. It was time for him to pack up and head home. He’d start on the online tutorials tomorrow. The rest of today he would spend doing something mindless like mowing the lawn and then rewarding himself with several episodes of one of the new Marvel shows. There really was nothing like a sexy superhero.