Now there’s a teasing smile on her face, and she lifts our joined hands and spins under them, ending up impossibly closer when she comes out of her turn.
I dip my head and kiss along her neck, and she tilts her head to one side, giving me more space. I can barely hear it over the beat of the music, but she hums with pleasure, her eyes fluttering half closed as we keep dancing.
I run my hands over her body, curving down over her hips and then up over her ass. She laughs breathlessly at that, but I can tell she likes it. I know she wants more.
There’s a part of my brain that thinks about the pile of paperwork on the desk that still needs to get done, but I shove it away. Business can wait for a little longer.
As we move together, we’re close enough that I can feel it when River’s phone vibrates in her pocket. She makes a face and reluctantly pulls away to look at it.
I can tell she wasn’t expecting whoever it is to be calling, because her lips curve down in a frown.
A spark of worry lights in my chest, and I jerk my chin toward her phone. “What is it?”
With her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she turns the phone around to show me the screen.
Agent Carter is calling.
44
River
Gage quickly leads me to the back where their office is so I can take the call without screaming over the music.
My stomach churns with anxiety as we step into the office. I’m worried this has something to do with Natalie’s death. Maybe we didn’t clear up the scene well enough and it got linked to us somehow. Or maybe the FBI somehow found a way to link Julian’s death to us.
All sorts of things flash through my mind, but I take a deep breath and answer the call.
“Agent Carter,” I say, trying to sound surprised and nonchalant. “What’s going on?”
I brace myself for probing questions about where I was on the day of Natalie’s death, or for him to start asking me for details about the Kings or something.
“I need to talk to you,” Carter says, getting right to the point.
He seems agitated and different from normal. Usually he’s very put together, and he asks his questions in that way that’s cool and businesslike.
But now he just sounds… weird.
“We are talking,” I tell him. “You’re talking to me right now.”
“No,” he says, letting out a breath. “In person. Soon.”
“I don’t have any more information for you. I don’t know anything else about Julian.”
“It’s not about that,” Carter tells me, and it sounds like he’s barely keeping it together. “There are things you need to know. Things I should have told you before. Or maybe not. Fuck. I don’t know.”
It almost sounds like he’s talking to himself at the end, like some kind of internal debate is coming out.
It just adds to the strange, distracted way he’s talking, and worry cuts through my stomach like acid.
“You’re not making any sense.” I shake my head, tightening my grip on the phone as I glance over at Gage. “What do I need to know?”
“I want to meet with you in person,” Agent Carter insists. “We can talk then. I can’t say this over the phone.”
I hold Gage’s gaze, knowing he’s close enough that he can hear Carter’s voice through the phone’s small speaker. He looks as concerned as I feel, but we both know that we pretty much have to go.
Saying no or hanging up isn’t really an option, because whatever Carter wants to talk about, it either already affects us or it will, whether we try to avoid it or not.
Gage nods, and I let out a messy sigh.
“Okay,” I say, tapping my foot in agitation. “We can meet.”
“Tonight?” Carter asks immediately.
“Yeah, okay. Give us an hour.”
“Fine. One hour. Meet me at the docks.” He gives me directions to a specific spot near the river, and we agree to meet there.
As soon as I hang up, Gage drags his fingers through his dark brown hair.
“I don’t like this,” he mutters. “What the hell does he want with you now? Why this clandestine meeting? Something feels... off.”
“All of it feels off,” I reply, chewing on my lip. “That’s not how Carter usually is. Something’s got him spooked or rattled or something.”
“I’ll call the others,” Gage says. “I want them all there as backup. And I’ll have one of our people go to the house to watch out for Cody while we get this over with.”
“Thanks.”
I’m grateful as hell for his offer—both for the fact that the Kings want to have my back, and that he knows I wouldn’t want the little boy left alone in the house.
We head for the door and make our way out of the club, getting back in the car as Gage arranges for someone to keep an eye on Cody, then calls the other men to tell them what’s going on. They say they’ll head out as soon as the impromptu babysitter shows up and meet us at the docks.
“Knox says that Harley will help watch Cody too,” Gage tells me when he hangs up, rolling his eyes. “We’ll try to make this quick.”
We’re both silent as Gage drives us to the spot where Agent Carter told us to meet him. I chew on my lip as I stare out the window, unable to stop my mind from racing. I can’t even guess what this could be about, and that makes me nervous.
I’d hoped that my conversation with Carter in the park would be the last time I ever saw him. He was useful for what we needed to accomplish at the time, but the last thing I want is to get tangled up with some fed.
Knox, Ash, and Priest arrive at the docks at almost the exact same time we do, since they had a shorter drive than we did.
“What the fuck is going on?” Knox asks, sliding his gun smoothly out of his holster and glancing around warily.
“We don’t know,” Gage says shortly. “That’s what we’re here to find out.
Sticking close together, we leave our cars behind and walk out onto the wooden dock. There are two long, wide walkways that jut out over the river, connected by another walkway at the end so that the whole thing forms a rough U shape over the water. Little waves lap against the dark wood, gleaming in the dim, distant light from the street lamps back near the road.
Agent Carter is waiting for us at the end of the dock where one walkway meets the intersecting one, his broad shoulders squared and his arms crossed.
He doesn’t have a weapon drawn, so that’s good, I guess. The Kings are all armed and alert, and I can practically feel the tension vibrating like a live wire among our little group. It’s clear none of us feel comfortable with whatever is going on.
Carter even looks different when I see him. Usually, he’s all about a professional presentation—tucked in shirt, neatly put together hair, shiny shoes. Now he looks like he’s been through something rough and has barely come out the other side in one piece. There are bags under his eyes, and his hair is a mess. His shirt is stained and only half tucked in, and his eyes dart around as we approach him.
He uncrosses his arms, agitation written in every line of his body, and it doesn’t go away as we come to a stop in front of him.