“I’m guessing since you two showed up on my doorstep eighteen hours after my little report hit your desk that you’ve already got an investigation going,” Darlene mused.
White slouched in his chair as if he were a bored parent at a band concert. Meanwhile Brice sat ramrod straight, flat brown eyes locked on Darlene’s.
Brick was used to men’s pissing matches. The female element made the contest more subtle and more terrifying.
“We need to speak with Mrs. Vorhees as soon as possible,” Special Agent Brice announced.
Chief Ford eyed Brick for a beat. “That can be arranged. While my sergeant here makes arrangements, you can talk to me about what kind of protection you can offer my witnesses.”
There was a special territorial emphasis on the “my” that had Brick’s lips quirking. He left the office and dialed his father’s phone number.
“Brick!” Once again, William sounded delighted that his son was calling. In the background, he could hear the happy chatter of women. The normalcy of it loosened the knots in his gut. He once again marveled that in the span of less than two months, he’d gone from being a bachelor living alone to sharing his house with so many people they’d blown a fuse with too many hair dryers going at the same time.
“Dad, I’m going to be swinging by the house with a couple of federal agents. They want to talk to Camille and Remi and probably you.”
“Okay,” his father said, waiting.
“I wanted to give you a heads up in case there’s any reason why you wouldn’t want to be questioned by an agent.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Are you worried about your old man?” William asked.
“No. I’m just giving you an opportunity to not be there if there’s going to be some kind of...conflict.”
“Son, I’ve been on the straight and narrow for years now. But I appreciate the concern. I’m more than ready to do my part to bring that son of a bitch to justice.”
“Okay then,” Brick said, not knowing what else to say. “I guess I’ll be by within the hour.”
“We’ll be ready,” William promised.
Forty-five minutes later, Brick stood in his own dining room while Special Agent Stick Up Her Ass and Junior Agent Compensating for a Small Dick faced off against Camille, his father, and Remi. Chief Ford sat at the head of the table.
Magnus and his new buddy Mega had been relegated to the backyard after hissing and barking at the feds.
Remi, an excellent judge of character, was already pissed off at something one of the agents had said.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I missed the part where you expressed concern to my friend here about the abuse she’s suffered for years at the hands of a monster. You kind of just jumped straight into the ‘tell me about the money’ part,” Remi said sweetly.
Brick hid his smile as Darlene coughed subtly into her hand.
“Of course we have great sympathy for Mrs. Vorhees’s...” Brice’s chilly gaze flicked over Camille’s bruised face. “…situation. But our agency isn’t interested in domestic matters.”
“Right, because money is more important than human life,” Remi purred.
Like mother, like daughter.
“Mrs. Vorhees,” White began, “Chief Ford sent us some interesting information regarding your husband and his use of campaign funds. We’re going to need you to elaborate on what you told her.”
Camille nodded, the consummate hostess despite her battered face. “Of course, Agent White,” she said. “Can we offer you two anything to drink while you’re here? Coffee? Tea?”
“A kick in the ass,” Remi muttered under her breath.
“Ms. Ford, is it?” Brice asked, arching an eyebrow. “I presume you two are related.”
“We are,” the chief responded. “Remington is my youngest daughter.”
“How does this situation concern her?” White asked almost flippantly. Brick tensed, ready to take issue with the disrespect, but Special Agent Brice shot her sidekick a cool look that had him shutting up.
“Do you mean besides caring about the violence a man imparted on my friend?”
White was going to get his teeth kicked in if he didn’t watch his mouth. And Brick didn’t mind letting Remi take her shots at him.
“Do you have any other reason for being at this table other than being a hand-holder?” Brice asked.
“Only from the standpoint that I was in the car he ran off the road and plowed through a guardrail, sending us down a cliff in an attempted double homicide. Or the fact that he’s been sending me threats since I came back to the island,” she snapped, coming halfway out of her chair.
Camille laid a hand on Remi’s sleeve.
White jotted down some notes.
“I see,” Special Agent Brice said.
“You bet your ass, you see,” Remi said.
“Remington.” Darlene’s voice was tired.
“This would be the accident on January thirtieth?” Brice asked, shuffling papers in her folder.
“That’s correct,” Camille said. “My husband hacked my phone and discovered that I was planning on leaving him. That Remi was going to help me.”
“The accident that you said occurred because a Ms. Ballard was intoxicated.”
“Remi, my friend and Chief Ford’s daughter, paints under the name Alessandra Ballard. Much like a novelist would use a pen name. Remi was not drunk that night, nor was she driving.”
“But according to the public statement you made—”
Remi stood up fast enough that her chair tumbled over backward. “Now you listen here. I don’t give a shit if you’re special agent of god’s gift to special agents. This man tried to murder us both. He has nothing left to lose. He’s lost his pride, his power, and pretty soon his goddamn seat in the Senate. He skipped out on an arrest this morning. So put your fucking cards on the table, and let’s figure out how to make sure this bastard never sees the outside of a cage again.”
Brick ached to touch her. To tell her how fucking proud he was of his girl. The urge to hold her in one arm while slapping the shit out of the smug junior agent also ranked up there.
He noticed the smile tugging at the corner of his father’s mouth, the straightening of Camille’s shoulders. The pride in Darlene’s cool gaze. Remi inspired that.
Special Agent Brice expelled a breath and sat back in her chair, steepling her fingertips.
“Our investigation into Representative Vorhees is entering its eighteenth month.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Remi slapped the table. “If you people moved faster, Camille wouldn’t have spent three weeks in the hospital, and I could have kept painting without a broken arm.”
Brick moved quickly to stand behind her. He brought his hands to her shoulders and squeezed, sending her a silent message.
“What a cozy community you have here, chief,” White sniped, eyeing Brick and Remi.
“What a douchebag face you have here, junior,” Remi snarled.
“Enough!” Brick’s voice cracked like a whip. “This is my house. These women deserve your respect.”