“Ain’t this some fancy set-up?” Ted asked as they turned off the highway and headed toward a huge mansion perched on the top of the hill in the distance. “Got to love these rich folks, huh?”

Felicity snorted from the passenger seat, busy sorting through emails. “Yeah. Kind of reminds me of pictures my grandmother used to show me from the South of France.”

“That where your family’s from?” Ted asked, winding his way upward toward the house. “I always figured you were Scandinavian or something with all that blond hair.”

“On my dad’s side, yeah.” Felicity shut off her computer and smiled. “My mom’s side was Basque. Her mother immigrated from a small town near the French-Spanish border.”

“Huh.” Ted steered around a sharper curve then squinted over at her. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. You are pretty tan for a while girl.”

Laughing, Felicity shook her head. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” They reached the summit and drove up a long paved drive toward an elegant traditional style home. From the brick façade to the tall white columns lining the front portico, it could’ve come straight out of early Republic Washington, DC, which made sense given the political connections of the home’s former resident. Tim Rigsdale had been a mover and a shaker in the extreme alt-right conservative movement before his assassination right here on these grounds.

If memory served her correctly, the guy had held an impromptu press conference on his front yard to answer questions about his candidate of choice and their connection to a white supremacist group called The American Way. Seems racism, misogyny and xenophobia had not only gotten Tim Rigsdale a bullet to the brain, they’d eventually killed his candidate, Frank Sutton, too. Sutton’s body had been found at a gas station not far from here a few weeks ago, leaving more questions than answers in his case.

The one connecting line between both men, though, was Kevin Quinn.

Witnesses had reported spotting him at the first Frank Sutton rally months earlier and he’d worked with both Sutton and Tim Rigsdale to organize the American Way membership.

That’s why she and Ted were here. To speak with Tim’s widow, Kim Rigsdale.

Felicity shook her head and winced. God. Even their names sounded pretentious and too cutesy similar. Ted pulled to a stop outside the mansion’s grand portico and they got out, walking up to the imposing black front door with its sparkling gold knocker.

“Hell, it’s probably twenty-four-carat,” she said under her breath as Ted knocked.

“Yeah.” He snickered.

A uniformed butler let them inside an elegantly decorated foyer, filled with expensive-looking antiques and gilded mirrors. “Please wait here while I let Mrs. Rigsdale know of your arrival.”

The older man bowed slightly then disappeared down a long marble hall toward a room near the back. Felicity raised a brow at Ted, walking over to inspect one of the oil paintings on the wall more closely. A signed Kandinsky, worth at least forty million dollars. Yeah, these people were loaded. No doubt about it.

“Please, follow me,” the butler said, returning to the foyer.

Felicity and Ted followed him to the end of the hall into a beautifully appointed library. Shelf after shelf of rare books covered the walls. For a bookworm like Felicity it was like crack to a junkie. The rest of the space was a bit odd though. Most of the furniture was vintage, except for the sofa, which appeared brand new. The rug in front of it looked new as well, the pattern much different from the older Persian carpets surrounding it. The changes could be nothing, but Felicity filed the information away for later anyway.

One never knew where the big clues might come from.

On the new leather sofa sat a petite, platinum blond, pretty; or she would’ve been if her features weren’t so gaunt with strain. Felicity forced a polite smile and stepped forward, hand extended. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us today, Mrs. Rigsdale. I’m Special Agent Felicity Belasko and this is my partner, Special Agent Ted Wilson.”

The woman nodded, gesturing toward two leather wing chairs across from her. “Please have a seat. Would either of you care for something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Felicity said, noting that the widow had a nearly empty glass of wine in her hand at four in the afternoon. A lit cigarette dangled from her thin, shaking fingers. Dark circles rimmed the woman’s blue eyes, as if she’d not been sleeping well, and the black dress she wore only washed out her already pale complexion. Kim Rigsdale looked haunted, hunted and scared.

“Mrs. Rigsdale,” Ted began, leaning forward slightly to rest his forearms on his knees. “We’re looking for information about a certain gentleman we believe your husband Tim may have worked with by the name of Kevin Quinn. Do you know him?”

Felicity didn’t miss the woman’s slight flinch at the mention of Quinn’s name.

“Please, call me Kim.” She tapped her cigarette on the edge of a nearby ashtray and blinked rapidly. “And yes, I’ve briefly met Mr. Quinn, but I don’t really know much about him.”

“How did you meet?” Felicity asked.

“He helped my husband with the Sutton campaign, organizing rallies, things like that.” Kim sat back and crossed her legs. “As I said, I really didn’t know him well at all.”

“And he also helped with The American Way group your husband started.” Ted pulled out his notebook and a pen. “Weren’t you involved in this group too, Kim?”

“Me? No, not really. I worked more on the fundraiser side of things. The politics were always Tim’s thing.” She sniffled and her expression crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

The butler rushed over with a box of Kleenex. She pulled several out. “Thank you. I’m sorry to break down, but losing my husband in such a brutal and unexpected way was horrible.”

Felicity watched the widow through her lashes. She’d trained in psychological cues at Quantico and things about Kim Rigsdale didn’t add up. Her tone sounded oddly hollow when she mentioned her husband’s grisly demise, devoid of any empathy or true sadness. She’d also made a huge show of blowing her nose loudly and avoided all eye contact with Felicity and Ted. The biggest giveaway though was the complete lack of tears. None.

She glanced sideways at Ted, who raised a brow but remained silent. The guy was built like a linebacker but hated to go in for the kill. Felicity on the other hand loved nailing a liar to the wall. “How long have you been sleeping with Kevin Quinn?”

Ted dropped his pad then cleared his throat, his expression stunned.

Kim’s pale cheeks quickly filled with crimson, her glazed eyes sparking with anger. “How dare you come in here and make assumptions about me!” She pushed to her feet, her steps unsteady, confirming Felicity’s suspicions that she’d been drinking, long and hard. “Get out!” she screeched, any pretense of manners gone. “Get the fuck out of my house now!”

The butler, who looked as alarmed as Ted at the abrupt shift in the woman’s demeanor, rushed to Kim’s side, doing his best to ease her back onto the sofa.

“We’ll just be going then,” Felicity said, biting back a smile. The whole thing seemed like a scene out of a movie, and damn if she didn’t savor the taste of victory. She’d been right about the two of them sleeping together, as confirmed by Kim’s over-the-top response.

The agents showed themselves out of the mansion while the poor butler dealt with the screaming, combative mess Kim Rigsdale had become. Once they were safely back in their SUV and heading back down the hillside again, Felicity finally allowed her chuckle to escape.

“Guess we won’t be invited back there again, huh?”

“Shit.” Ted shook his head. “Way to blindside the lady.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if she was lying. You got to admit though, that was one hell of a reveal, right?”

Ted snorted. “True enough. So, she was screwing our suspect. What do you make of that?”

“Well, if she was sleeping with Quinn, it’s not such a leap to assume she was feeding him information too. About her husband, maybe about Frank Sutton as well.”

“Still doesn’t explain the connection to the SEALs though.”

Felicity adjusted her seatbelt so she could face Ted. “Quinn was a SEAL, or tried to be. So was Frank Sutton. Only difference is Sutton graduated. Quinn was flunked out by Jace.”

“Jace?” Ted narrowed his gaze. “You on a first name basis with that guy now?”

Heat prickled Felicity’s cheeks and she scooted to face front again. “I caught Mr. Stevens sneaking around Kevin Quinn’s trailer park yesterday. I confronted him about what he was doing and we agreed he’d help snoop for information, but within my guidelines. I figured having the guy work for us, where we could keep an eye on him, was better than letting him go rogue.”

“Keep an eye on him, huh?” Ted gave her a speculative stare. “That all it is?”

Felicity sighed. “Of course that’s all it is. You know I’m only here for the case.”

“Right. Sure.” Ted slowed to a stop near the bottom of the hill and waited for traffic to pass before pulling out onto the highway again, heading back toward Ortega. “You don’t date much, do you?”

“I date plenty.” Felicity said, uncomfortable with the spotlight pointed at her. Okay. Maybe “dating” wasn’t precisely the right term. She hooked-up, had one-night stands. Short term flings required less time and energy, and way less emotional involvement. Not that it was any of Ted’s business. “And what are you anyway? My new Love Guru?”

“Hell, no. I just worry about you sometimes.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

Ted was a good guy. Married twenty years with three kids and a home back in Virginia that was almost paid for. Felicity had always dreamed of having a life like that someday, when her career didn’t interfere. For now, her cases took precedence. Always.

“Well, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” She sniffed. “And yeah, Jace Stevens and I are working together. That’s it.”

Never mind she could still picture his twinkling brown eyes. Forget that sizzling awareness that blossomed inside her whenever he was near. Pay no attention to the way his muscles felt beneath her hands, the way his heat had penetrated her clothes, the way his scent had set all her senses on high alert.

They were working a case together. That was it.

About half way back to Ortega, a bright red sports car barreled down the highway behind their SUV. Ted cursed and gripped the wheel tight as the car zoomed around them, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a vehicle in the opposite lane before zipping back in front of the SUV, cutting them off.

“Fucking California drivers!” Ted shouted, giving the other car the finger.

Felicity frowned, squinting through the rear window of the sports car and spotting platinum blond hair. “Oh my God. That’s Kim Rigsdale.”

“Seriously?” Ted sped up a little to tail the other car. “Let’s see where she’s going.”

They followed the red car through Ortega, down a route eerily familiar to Felicity. “She’s meeting Quinn.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Ahead, the sports car signaled then swerved into Shady Pines.

“Should we go in after her?” Ted asked. “Hate to be that obvious.”

“No.” She pointed to a seaside scenic vista pull-off not far ahead. “Let’s wait up there and see how long it takes before she leaves.”

Turns out the wait wasn’t long at all.

Maybe twenty minutes later, Kim pulled out of the trailer park, speeding back in the direction of her mansion. Close behind was Quinn’s compact car. Instead of following behind Kim, however, Quinn turned the opposite way, going toward downtown Ortega.

“Which one do you want to follow?” Ted asked.

Felicity gave him a flat look.

“Right.” He waited for several cars to pass, then pulled back out onto the highway, trailing Kevin Quinn. “Maybe we’re finally getting a break in this case.”

“Maybe.” She pulled her buzzing phone out of her pocket and stared down at the screen. The number of her FBI director back in Virginia popped up onscreen. Fuck. “Or not.”

Dread pooled in her stomach. She’d known the budget meeting was earlier today and she’d hoped that no news was good news. She and Ted had been working this case from afar for months now, biding their time and gathering their resources to scrape together enough to make the trip here. Her director had promised to go to the wire for them to try to get the budget adjusted to accommodate a longer stay for them here, but she feared this phone call wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes, sir?” Felicity said, forcing a positive tone.

“Agent Belasko, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to pull you and Agent Wilson off the Quinn case.”

“Wait. The meeting didn’t go well today?” She glanced at Ted. “Did you tell them we’re finally on scene and starting to uncover information that—”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter. The new administration is making sweeping budget cuts across the board. As I said, I’m sorry but we don’t have the manpower or the resources for this right now.”

“Please, sir. There’s something here, I know it. One more week. Please.”

“Sorry, Agent. This comes straight from the Oval Office.” The Director’s tone sounded sincerely apologetic. “I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear and that you’ve put a lot of time and effort into this investigation already, but the funds to keep going aren’t there. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Ted whispered, scowling.

“They want to pull us off the case,” Felicity whispered back.

“Shit.”

“Exactly.” A new idea occurred to her. “What if I take some of my vacation time and stay out here on my own, sir. In an unofficial capacity.”

Ted gave her a what-the-hell look. Not because of what she’d said, but because she never took vacation. She probably had at least a month of time saved up, maybe more.

“How you choose to spend your PTO time is up to you, Agent. But know that if you get yourself involved in something dangerous, the Bureau can’t back you up.”

“Understood.” She smiled. She’d graduated top of her class from Quantico. She could take care of herself. And no way in hell would she let a murdering scumbag like Kevin Quinn off the hook because of some crappy federal cutbacks. “Then consider me officially on leave for the next thirty days, sir.”

The Director sighed. “Fine, Agent Belasko. But be careful.”

“Affirmative, sir. I’ll send Agent Wilson home on the next flight, sir.”

She ended the call then grinned over at Ted.

“What the hell are you doing, Fee?”

“Saving this case, that’s what.” She pointed out the windshield. “Now, follow that car before Quinn gets away.”