Jace strode down the hall toward Conference Room Three.

“Don’t interrupt their meeting,” Margo called, hurrying from behind. “We can interview him when he comes out.”

“Fuck that.” He spun around so abruptly she halted an inch before smacking into him. He leaned into her personal space. “And fuck you too.”

She stiffened under his aggressive stance. “Back off, Quinn. It’s not what you think.”

“Why would you tell anyone where Sean and Gretch were hiding?”

She blushed and waved her hands. “Joe Taylor isn’t even on our team. Why would he have anything to do with their disappearance?”

“I don’t know,” he sneered. “Let’s go ask the dweeb.”

“We can’t inter—”

Jace burst through the conference room door, ignoring the startled glances as he scanned the members of another joint task force. The contract anthropologist was down near the end, too far to lunge at or grab without interference. Jace pointed to him. “You. Where are Sean and Gretch?”

Taylor had enough survival skills to look terrified. “Why would I know?”

Wrong answer. The correct one would’ve been: Who are Sean and Gretch?

“What’s this about?” SSA Garcia demanded from the head of the long table.

“Sorry for the disruption.” Margo’s gaze skipped to Joe, and she flashed him a warning plea. “If we could have a moment of Joe’s time.”

A moment. As if this interruption was frivolous. The rage boiling inside Jace made it difficult to breathe. Garcia frowned as he scanned all three faces. “What for?”

“Our contract anthropologist has gone missing—”

“My brother,” Jace growled. “And his coworker. The security camera shows a probable abduction; their knapsacks were discarded in shrubbery.” He had Garcia’s undivided attention. “And only three people knew their location. Me, her, and him.” He jabbed a finger at Taylor again.

Garcia’s confusion grew; who could blame him? That someone with Margo’s looks and poise would consider Joe Taylor a catch was unbelievable. That pillow talk with that balding, scrawny geek could lead to Sean’s disappearance was fantastical. But Jace couldn’t care less about the revolting secret love affair. He needed answers. He jerked his head at Joe. “Hallway. Now.”

Garcia stood and motioned to Joe. “If you’d all excuse us for a moment.” He eyed Jace and Margo sharply. “My office.”

Once inside, Garcia assigned chairs with a sparing glance. Jace was placed on the opposite side of the room from Joe, who got the chair closest to the door. Margo sat primly in the middle, her face a study in dread. This was one hundred percent her fault, and she knew it.

“Go ahead,” Garcia said quietly to her when he was seated.

“We’re wrapping up our smuggling case; have the locations under surveillance, phones tapped, proof of money laundering, and a warehouse jammed with looted artifacts. Yesterday the suspect pulled his assets before we could freeze them, and the banker who’d blown the whistle was beheaded. Now two citizens who may have knowledge of this terrorist ring are missing.”

Garcia directed his attention to Jace. “Is this the same brother from last night and the mob?”

Jace nodded a tight affirmative.

“He seems to get himself right into the thick of things,” the SSA murmured.

No. He doesn’t. He prefers his own company and should never have been brought back on board. Jace glared at Joe. “How do you know Adyton?”

Taylor rubbed his palms on his thighs. His face was shiny with sweat. “He’s an acquaintance from the art world.”

“He’s more than an acquaintance if you’re spilling FBI secrets. Why the hell would you tell him where to find Sean and Gretch?”

The bespectacled man gulped in a cartoonish way. His gaze flitted to each of them, unable to land and focus.

“Mr. Taylor?” Garcia prompted.

“I want immunity.”

“Oh, Christ,” Margo mumbled.

Garcia considered him for a long moment, his eyes glacier cold. “Depends on what you’ve got.”

“I provide clean provenances for him once in a while.”

Margo lurched in her seat with a gasp. Another look flashed between them—his apologetic, hers murderous. She closed her eyes and hung her head. After Sean quit the FBI, it had been Margo who’d hired Taylor. Had they already been in a relationship? Had Taylor come aboard specifically to spy for Adyton, or to be closer to Margo?

“Where are Quinn’s brother and the woman?” Garcia asked.

Taylor spread his hands. “There must be some mistake. Adyton is well respected in the art community and very generous with scholarships to budding artists—”

“His banker was beheaded,” Jace ground out. Fucking scholarships? “Can we stay on point? When did you call him, and what did you say?”

Joe blew out an aggravated breath. “Last Saturday you picked up an artifact at O’Hare, and Adyton knew it was a matter of time before he landed on your radar. He asked for my help to redirect your attention elsewhere, but I wasn’t assigned to the task force. All I’ve done is keep him informed on your progress.”

“So he knows his warehouse is under surveillance, his phones are tapped, and we’ve taken the bank records?” Margo asked in disbelief.

“The old man has been playing us all week,” Jace said. “Why? And why take Sean and Gretch?”

Taylor adjusted his glasses, warming to his role as informant. “Probably for leverage. Adyton knew too late that he’d handed over his Quran to a restoration firm that was suddenly helping the FBI. He also knew if he tried to pull the project, you’d confiscate it, so he shortened the time frame, hoping the firm would refuse his ridiculous request and hand the artifact back.” He turned to Jace, lip curled in scorn. “Instead they assigned your perfect brother to perform a miracle.”

Jace jerked to his feet. Sitting was no longer an option. Talking was no longer on the table either. He faced Garcia. “Plan of action?” The man had one chance at this, and if he pulled a let’s-gather-the-facts approach, then the FBI was not a career Jace could endure a second longer.

The SSA studied him for a long moment before turning his attention to Margo. “The locations that are under surveillance. Has anyone seen anything suspicious?”

“None at the warehouse. A van arrived at the bakery half an hour ago and is being loaded with goods. The Days of Olde shop should be opening just about now.”

Garcia nodded. “Inga Harvey is fresh off an assignment. I’ll send her to speak to Adyton.”

Margo straightened. “I should go. Despite this setback, I’m head of the investigation.”

“I could run circles around your leadership,” Jace ground out. “All we’ve done is sit on our asses and collect data. I’m going.”

Garcia opened his mouth, but Margo bolted out her chair. “This isn’t a clandestine, no-personal-accountability adventure. We work as a team, gathering irrefutable evidence for federal prosecutors.” She jabbed a finger into Jace’s chest. “Your lack of impulse control and disregard for authority have been detrimental right from the start. You hired your brother without my knowledge or authority. That’s what got us into this mess, Jace.”

“I beg to differ, Special Agent Hathaway,” he snarled. “Your inability to keep your legs and your mouth shut are entirely to blame.”

Margo’s eyes flared. Garcia gestured to the empty seats and yelled, “This isn’t a goddamn reality show. Sit back down.”

“Sitting is all we do on this task force,” Jace said, clenching his fists. “I request permission to go on the interview. Sir.”

Garcia paused, and Jace held his breath. This whole career-after-the-career-of-his-dreams came down to this moment. He’d brought in a two-hundred-million-dollar painting the FBI had searched for these last thirty years. He’d saved five little boys’ lives and his brother’s too. He’d nabbed the head of the Chicago mafia. Garcia owed him this deviation from the knot of red tape.

“You may go as Special Agent Harvey’s backup. You may not engage with Adyton in any way. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

Jace nodded, jaw cramping from all the clenching. Christ, another woman. He appreciated everything about them from here until next Tuesday, until it came to taking orders. He hadn’t found one yet who made the right decisions under pressure. He blew out a breath. Aw, hell. At least it was a clean slate. He’d flirt and cajole and mold this second chance into a decision-making role again, while he figured out where Sean and Gretch were and how to save the day.

“What about me?” Margo asked her boss tentatively.

“Until I investigate this breach further you’re on the beach.”

Administrative leave. An agent’s worst nightmare. Jace almost fisted the air.

Garcia turned to Taylor. “I’ll take your immunity plea up with the DA. If she declines, you realize you’ve implicated yourself as an accessory to smuggling, money laundering, and kidnapping?”

The pathetic dweeb stayed silent, his mouth a defiant line. Margo’s hands were clenched in her lap. She glared at Taylor like she was ready to launch from her chair and rearrange his face. “Who else is on your fake provenance client list?” she asked.

Taylor shrugged without making eye contact. He’d probably lawyer up as soon as he stepped out of this office.

Garcia’s grim expression indicated he knew that too. He picked up the phone. “We’ll have the search warrants ready in a jiffy, Taylor.”