The Fixer (Games People Play #1)

There it was. The small show of concern. The senator didn’t give much away, but sometimes her voice would rise or she’d move around too much. The fact she wasn’t as sure that this was a good idea as she was saying shifted control back to him. “I’m also going to remember this moment the next time you come asking for a favor.”

“That’s the great thing about you. You won’t.” Her fingers traced the inside of the mug’s handle. “See, I know you and the only thing bigger than your badass reputation is your sense of loyalty.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “You’re pushing the boundaries.”

“How do you think I got where I am today?”

Hard work, discipline. Brains. “As you just pointed out, I helped you.”

“Very true. Now, let me help resolve this situation.”





CHAPTER 5




The door opened a fraction and Sheila motioned with her hand. “Emery, please come in.”

Emery took two steps and her gaze flew to him. She stopped. “You.”

“Me.” Tension chocked the room. The awareness hit him with the force of a brutal punch. Something about her called to him. She wore gray dress pants and a silky-looking blouse, but her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed with fire.

“This is the guy.” She pointed at him as she moved closer.

“The creepy one?” Sheila asked.

“Okay.” He’d just about reached his limit on that view. “Maybe we could use the word mysterious?”

“Okay, Brian,” Emery snapped back in a sarcastic tone. “Is that even your real name?”

Never mind that he had a reason to use the fake name and that she was the one stalking him. “Since I only plan to be here for a few minutes, you should use your time wisely and ask only the questions you really need to ask.”

She stood there, hovering by his chair with her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I see the menacing thing you do is still in place.”

“You’re down to four minutes.” He had no idea if any time had passed, but he glanced down at his watch to make his point.

Her shoulders fell as her mouth dropped open. “Who are you?”

Wrong question. “Let’s do it this way. Why do you want to talk to Wren?”

Emery looked at the senator, who nodded and gestured for Emery to take the seat next to him. “Go ahead.”

Emery hesitated on both. “I’m just supposed to trust him?”

Sheila nodded. “Yes.”

That level of unconditional trust made Wren happier than he wanted to admit. “See?”

When no one said anything else, Emery dragged the chair another foot away from his and sat down. “Fine.” She kept her attention on the senator. “I believe he knows something about Tiffany Younger.”

“Who?” He actually had no clue who that was. He searched his memory for any recollection and came up empty. Since he rarely forgot a name or a number, that meant she’d been hunting for the wrong man the entire time. He felt a kick of regret at the thought.

“Tiffany is my cousin.”

He still had no idea what that had to do with him. “Okay.”

Emery’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s missing.”

Now she had his attention again. He knew a lot about this subject. Too much. “From the DC area?”

Emery nodded. “It happened thirteen years ago.”

The timing didn’t make sense, but at least it explained why the case wasn’t on his radar. “And you’re talking about it now?”

“She’s still missing.”

“Fair enough.” That drive for answers, the need for completion, he totally understood that. The not knowing didn’t ease with time. It compounded. The doubts lingered. The sense of security never came back. But none of that explained what this had to do with him. “You think Wren has some connection to this woman?”

She finally looked at him. Hit him full-on with those big eyes and that haunted expression. “I think he abducted her.”

The air punched out of him. “What?”

She waved her hand in front of her face as if trying to wave the words away. “You heard me.”

“You’re confused.” She also was dead fucking wrong.

“Your boss is involved or he knows who took Tiffany. Either way, he is not innocent in this.” Emery crossed her arms in front of her. “Sorry to spring that hard truth on you, but there it is.”

The accusation sat there. Wren weighed her words and tried to figure out how she could have gotten this information so wrong. He knew all about her job. She poured through missing-persons files all day long. She directed experts on age progression work on missing children who would now be teens. Honorable work. Difficult work.

Scrolling through the mounds of intel Garrett had collected took a toll. Wren remembered every photo even though he tried not to focus too long on any. He’d forced his mind to remain still and not slip into old memories as he waded through the information because he knew all too well about the grief behind all those posters and pleas to find missing loved ones.

The idea of him being a perpetrator was as big a misfire as Emery could have made. If she only knew . . . but she couldn’t.

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