“I told SAC Burnett that I needed to be here for you today,” he said, referring to the special agent in charge to whom he reported. His gaze flicked in turn over Cole and Tyler and Evan. “I’ll get back to kicking criminal butt tomorrow.”
“Who are you hounding now, Agent Warner?” Evan asked. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but also the tightness of control. Both Tyler and Cole must have heard it, too, because they each cut a sharp glance Evan’s way. I had the impression that Cole was going to say something but thought better of it.
“Whoever the evidence points to,” Kevin said. “Follow the trail long enough, and you find the asshole at the end.”
“Evidence,” Evan said, his tone musing. “I thought you boys stopped worrying about evidence years ago. Isn’t the method now to fling shit and see what sticks?”
“If you’re suggesting that we go to whatever lengths are necessary to gather the evidence that we need,” Kevin said smoothly, “then you’re absolutely right.”
Any pretense of humor in the conversation had now been firmly erased. I winced, remembering too late that the FBI had been all in the trio’s face about five years ago. I’d seen the newspaper articles and had asked Jahn about it. He told me not to worry—that a business rival had made some nasty accusations, but that his knights would have their names cleared soon enough. I’d been deep into finals, and so I’d taken my uncle at his word. And, since nothing else popped up in the news, I forgot all about it.
Clearly Evan hadn’t forgotten, and the air around us crackled with an uncomfortable, prickly kind of tension.
I cleared my throat, determined to change the subject. “How was the hospital dedication?”
“Inconvenient,” Evan snapped. He shoved his hands in his pockets, then drew in a breath, and it didn’t take superhuman observational skills to see he was making an effort to rein in his temper. “Sorry,” he said, his voice now gentle.
He turned slightly, and for the first time since he joined our group, he looked in my direction. “The dedication—hell, the entire wing—means a lot to me and even more to the kids we’re going to be helping, but I needed to be here.” For the briefest of moments, he looked directly into my eyes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. “He was a good man,” Evan said, and the pain I heard in his voice reflected my own. “He’ll be missed.”
“He will,” Kevin said. His voice sounded stiff and stilted, and I had to fight the urge to pull out of his arms, because he didn’t get it. How could he? He didn’t really know my uncle; he didn’t really understand what I’d lost.
I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly thick with tears. I clenched my fists, as if mere force of will could keep the grief at bay.
It didn’t help. I felt suddenly lost. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to anchor, and any moment now I knew I would spin out of control.
Damn.
I’d been doing so well—missing Jahn, yes, but not crossing the line into self-pity. I’d been surviving, and the fact that I was coping had made me proud.
I wasn’t coping anymore. Evan’s coldness had thrown me off my game, and without warning, I’d become antsy and all sorts of fucked up. I wanted to step out of this weird triangle made up of me and Evan and Kevin, but I couldn’t seem to move.
All I knew was that Uncle Jahn had always been my way in. He’d always understood me. He’d always been there to rescue me.
But he wasn’t there right then—and to my total mortification, the tears began to flow.
“Angie,” Evan murmured. “Oh, baby, it’s okay.”
I have no idea how it happened, but suddenly my face was pressed to Evan’s chest and he was holding me and his hand was stroking my back and his voice was soothing me, telling me that I should let it out. That it would be okay. That I would be okay.