“Why do you have to walk us to the bus stop, Aunt Denny?” Kaden asked.

“Because I want to make sure you don’t run off and join the circus.”

“That’s silly,” Kimber said. “Who would run off to join the circus?”

Denise flipped the end of Kimber’s ponytail. “I wanted to join the circus when I was your age.”

Kimber screwed up her face. “Why?”

“I wanted to be a lion tamer.”

“That would be cool,” Kaden said. “Did you know there are safaris in Africa where you can pet lions?”

“There are?”

“Yeah. And see whole herds of elephants.”

“That would be really cool. I’ll have to look into that. Maybe one year for your birthday.” She had no idea how she would swing that. Maybe she could talk her parents into helping out with the cost of airfare and make it a combined birthday-Christmas gift.

They reached the top of the street where a small gaggle of kids stood, waiting for the early morning school bus.

“See, Aunt Denny,” Kaden said, going back to sullen. “No one else’s parents are waiting with them.”

Stopping, she leaned down so her face was level with Kaden’s. “Do you want to know a secret?”

He looked skeptical, but nodded his head. “There are no other parents here because they don’t really like their kids.”

His little jaw grew slack and he gaped at her for a few seconds before snapping it shut and scowling at her. “That’s not true.”

She nodded solemnly. “It is. Their parents probably say they can’t because they have to work, but that’s the real reason they aren’t here.”

“You have to work,” he accused.

“I do.” She shrugged. “I guess I like you too darn much to care. But you’re not allowed to say anything. It would hurt the other kids’ feelings if they knew the truth.”

The school bus arrived and stopped at the corner. “Don’t forget I’m going to pick you up after school so we can go see your mom.”

“Can we get Panera for dinner on the way home?” Kimber asked.

“Sure.” She held her arms out wide. “Can I have a hug before you get on the bus?” Kaden glanced furtively at the kids waiting to board, then looked at her like she had the plague. “I guess that means no goodbye kiss, either?”

She bit back a laugh when he pivoted and hurried to the bus.

“I don’t mind,” Kimber said as she threw her arms around Denise’s waist.

“Thanks, doodlebug. Have a good day at school.”

“I will.” She skipped a few steps before joining the line of kids getting on the bus.

Kaden paused at the foot of the steps and raised a hand in a half wave. At least she got that.

A prickle of unease crawled up her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. All amusement fled. She kept her composure as the bus pulled away. Using the vehicle’s motion, she turned as if she were watching it, but scanned from one end of the street to the other.

There. Two streets down, on the other side of the road, a man sat on a black Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The pipes rumbled with their distinct sound as he revved the throttle, pulling out two cars behind the bus. She held her breath until the rider kept going straight when the bus turned right, but he turned his head and watched the bus when he passed the turn. Then he roared off down the road, over the crest of the hill, and out of sight.

She licked her lips and her palm itched. Don’t freak out. They’re safe on the bus and at school. It’s just a coincidence.

A lot of people in the area rode motorcycles—there was nothing unusual about seeing one. The patch on the back of the vest was a different story.

* * *

“Agent Nolton, you have the floor.”

Chris self-consciously smoothed his tie. The tailored suit fit him perfectly and he knew he looked the part of the professional agent—if only he felt it. A month ago, he’d been wearing a t-shirt that, if he’d been lucky, had been washed sometime in the previous week. He’d been more comfortable in the scrungy tee.

Clearing his throat, he pushed down his nerves. “Good morning, Director. As a result of the simultaneous operations along the interstate eighty-five corridor in North Carolina and Georgia, we’ve severely disrupted the Southern Anarchist’s distribution lines.”

The brief summarizing the operation took only fifteen minutes, but he had sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades before he was finished. He was the guy who got shit done—he hated being the monkey in the suit playing for the audience.

“What is the situation with Edward Perry?” Director Wilkins asked.

Eddie Perry’s release and disappearance hadn’t been covered during the brief. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed she was up to speed on the situation, or pissed off he’d spent fifteen minutes telling her shit she already knew. “Ma’am, Eddie Perry was released from jail approximately three weeks ago and has skipped parole. Several sources have reported that he’s shown up at some of the old Anarchist stomping grounds, but otherwise no one has had verified contact with him.”

“Is he looking to take back his former position in the Anarchists? This would be a good time for a power grab.”

“We don’t have a good handle on that information yet. It doesn’t appear that he’s trying to rally any of the old guard still left and newer members of the gang that weren’t caught up in the arrests don’t know him. They might not trust him.”

“Family?” she asked. Her steely blue eyes met his. She already knew the answer to her question. What he wanted to know was what her plans were for the information.

“His former wife is terminally ill and in hospice.”

She didn’t move an inch. If her shoulder-length gray hair didn’t move from the air conditioning current, he might have thought she was a statue. “And?”

“They have two children. Our assessment is that the kids haven’t had any contact with their father.”

Phil looked at him sharply and leaned forward on the table. “Ma’am, we do believe Eddie Perry was attempting to make contact with his kids. He’d been calling his ex-wife’s house.”

The Director looked from Phil to Chris. “Is that true?”

“Yes, but until three weeks ago, they believed he was dead. It’s my understanding the remaining family has no desire to reestablish contact and are working to keep the kids unaware of who their father is.”

“Do we know what the plan is for the kids since the ex is terminal?” Her question was cold and calculated and her voice held no inflection of emotion or empathy. Maybe it was years of being a woman in a male-dominated field. Maybe she was just the coldhearted hard-ass rumor pegged her for.

“Her first cousin is taking care of the children at the moment,” Phil said. “We’re not sure about…after.”

Chris looked down at the conference table, a heavy dose of guilt niggling the back of his mind. He hadn’t told Phil that Denise was their guardian. He wasn’t sure why he’d withheld the information other than Phil not knowing who Denise was to him. Not that he had a reason to hide it, but the whole conversation turned his stomach and left him cold.

“What do we know about the ex?”

Phil pulled one of the open file folders closer. “What little background we have on Sarah Perry prior to Eddie being arrested is minimal. Her aunt and uncle petitioned the courts for full custody when she was eleven. Her uncle was in the Army and they moved out of North Carolina shortly after. The family moved back at some point since she graduated from high school locally and went to Fayetteville State University for her teaching degree. Except for the run in when Eddie Perry was arrested, everything else is squeaky clean. Not even a parking ticket.”

“What is the likelihood she knows Eddie Perry’s whereabouts?” Director Wilkins asked.

“Judging by the cousin’s reaction when we asked her to leave the phone line in place? Zero to none,” Chris said.

She nodded once. “Find out what hospital Sarah Perry is in and see if you can get in to talk to her. Maybe she can provide some background information on Eddie that we don’t have. It might give us an idea of where he’d go—who he’d reach out to for help. And keep an eye on the kids.”

“Full-time surveillance?” Phil asked.

“No, but talk to the cousin. Get her cooperation. If Eddie Perry wants his kids, he’ll go after them. All we have to do is wait.”

Chris held in the breath he wanted to blow out. That was easier said than done. Maybe Jase and Bree would be willing to run interference for him.

The director stood and smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you for the update, agents. Keep me informed of any changes.”

He and Phil murmured their assent as she left the conference room.

Special Agent Dickson shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job.”

Chris nodded. “Thank you.” He shut down the computer and gathered up his notes.

Phil waited for him in the doorway. “Where’d you get the information that the family was trying to keep the kids away from Eddie?”

He looked over his shoulder and led the way to their shared cubicle. Setting the files down, he loosened his tie. “Remember the woman I was seeing before I went undercover?”

“Vaguely, yeah.” He leaned against Chris’s desk and crossed one ankle over the other.

Leaning back in his chair, Chris laced his fingers together over his stomach. “She’s Sarah Perry’s cousin.”

“You’re joking?”

He shook his head slowly. “She’s also the designated guardian of Sarah Perry’s children for…after.”

Phil’s head dropped down, then rose again. “Jesus, man. Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still seeing her?”

“No. Disappearing without a word kind of put the kibosh on that whole situation.”

“The note you asked about,” he said with a grimace.

“Yeah.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

Chris shrugged, trying for a level of indifference he in no way felt. “Shit happens.”

“You get this complicates things, right? Even if you aren’t seeing her anymore.”

“Yeah, Phil. I get it.” He sure as hell didn’t need it rubbed in.

Phil scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do you know what hospital Sarah’s in?”

“Cape Fear Cancer Center.” Jase had shared that information.

Phil sat at his desk and typed sharply on his keyboard, then snatched up the phone handset and punched at the numbers. Chris knew his partner well enough to know he was upset Chris had kept this information from him. He wouldn’t have done anything differently. He wasn’t going to be pulled off this investigation. Cradle to grave and he was going to see it to the end of the Southern Anarchists. Andrew and Teresa had been murdered while undercover investigating theses fuckers and their families deserved that much.

He picked up his phone from the desk and unlocked it, opening it to the photo app. The only picture in the gallery was one he’d managed to retrieve from his back-up after getting a new phone. He’d snuck the photo of Denise while she’d slept. Half on her stomach, clutching a pillow with one leg bent and out of the sheet that seemed to hang precariously onto her lower back, it was the most relaxed he’d ever seen her. It had made him realize she was always on guard, even in sleep a small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.

How could he get her to trust him again? Not due to the case or because he needed information, but because he needed her. He’d never needed a woman before. Never wondered what they were doing. This mission had been the first time he’d felt like he’d left something behind, something he missed and looked forward to returning to. That sure as shit didn’t go according to plan.

The dent he’d made in her fortress of solitude was long gone. Patched up and smoothed over as if he’d never even scratched the surface. Her walls were stronger now for having been weakened and repaired, like a broken bone that had knitted back together, especially since she had something besides herself to guard and protect. It wasn’t just emotional now, he had no doubt she would physically put herself in front of those kids. Anything he said or did at this point would be viewed with suspicion.

He couldn’t even blame her. He’d probably do the same in her position.

“Fuck.”

Chris flinched and locked his phone, placing it facedown on his desk as if he were a teenager whose mom had caught him looking at his dad’s porn magazines.

Phil was leaned back in his chair, head resting on the back, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“What?” Chris asked.

His partner dropped his hands. “Talking to Sarah Perry isn’t going to be an option.”

Dread uncoiled in Chris’s belly, an evil and insidious snake poised to strike at the slightest provocation. He knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Why?”

“Sarah Perry passed away early this morning.”