In general, he considered himself immune to that kind of thing, and it rankled that he’d felt a sense of connection when he should have been concentrating only on business. She was a suspect, for crying out loud.
But her smooth ability to get people to feel comfortable, to get them to talk, was even more proof against her—in his gut, anyway. The best con artists were very hard to dislike and they knew how to read people, how to get the information they needed. But so did EJ.
EJ looked back at Ian, changing the subject. “So how are you and Sage holding up?”
“I’m fine, but I feel for Sage. She’s so big, and mostly immobile, which is torture for her. She’s so used to being on the go, and was at a really critical point with her consulting business when she found out about the babies. She’s conducting business online and over the phone, but she’s tired and more than a little cranky.”
Sarah butted in, shuddering. “Who could blame her? I get cranky just thinking about it.”
“You’re cranky anyway,” Ian teased. “Aren’t you and Logan thinking about a family?”
“Sure. In about ten or fifteen years. Or longer.”
EJ tipped his head curiously. “Have you ever heard of the concept of a biological clock?”
Sarah grinned smugly. “They make them digital these days. Women are having babies in their forties and beyond. Although I don’t really get that, either.”
EJ and Ian shook their heads, laughing. Sarah was incorrigible. Logan had often talked about a family, especially inspired by Sage and Ian, but Sarah was holding strong. Having babies was not in the cards for her anytime soon, EJ imagined. Logan would have his work cut out for him.
Conversation ceased as Ian grabbed his cell phone, excusing himself for a moment. Looking past the clear glass windows that encased their offices, the hallways of the Norfolk Police Department buzzed with activity. Outside the office, he knew it would be hot and muggy—the air-conditioning was constantly on the blitz, but the HotWires offices were almost too cold, kept that way because of the sensitive technology in the room.
They’d come a long way in three years, solving some major cases, and increasing their funding and resources with each success. It had just been the three of them to start, an experiment that had met with phenomenal success. Their unit, having gained state and local recognition for their work, had just gotten more funds to expand. The cases were piling up, and they needed more people on the job, especially with their personal lives becoming more complicated.
In fact, Ian was lining up interviews with prospective agents soon. EJ looked over at Sarah, who returned to her case file with deep concentration. She’d been a freelance computer hacker just a few years ago, doing odd jobs so she could finance her hacking habit, buying all the computer equipment she needed to track down Internet pornographers so she could report them to the feds. It was how she’d met Ian and had ended up being a part of the team. And she was one damned good cop; Ian had great instincts, and hiring Sarah had paid off big-time.
But EJ had thought further ahead. In fact, should Ian ever decide to change jobs, considering his family situation, EJ hoped to be able to step up to the plate to lead the HotWires unit, something his single life prepared him for perfectly.
He’d never spoken to Ian about it, but he wondered if his friend would want to stay in a dangerous position after he had children to consider. Having stared down the barrel of a gun more than once in the line of duty, EJ wasn’t sure he could do it if he had little ones depending on him to come home every night.
Ian’s voice brought EJ back to the moment. “I’ll be spending more time at home, but I’m still available if you need me in here. And Sarah can be pulled in, too, if you need backup. At least before she leaves. If you can’t get us, you’re authorized through Marty to pull whatever you need from the general department resources.”
EJ nodded, looking again at the petite blonde with the heart-shaped face in the photograph, and he felt a stirring in his gut, remembering what this beautiful woman had talked about with him online. Private, intimate, sexy things.
Too bad she was probably going to jail.
2
THE THREE OF SWORDS crossed by The Devil yet again—poor Ronny. Charlotte sighed, looking for something good in the cards—she always tried to put a positive spin on things, if she could—but this reading bothered her. In fact, it gave her a creepy feeling; something was definitely off in her brother’s life. As usual.
Ronny never asked for readings—he thought her tarot was a bunch of hooey—but now and then she did a reading for him, just for herself, to get an idea how his life was going and how she could support or advise him. Normally she would never do a reading without someone’s permission—it was eavesdropping of a kind—but this was her privilege as a big sister, she figured.
Padding into the small kitchen of her apartment on Ocean View, just east of downtown Norfolk, she poured herself a large glass of lemongrass iced tea and stared out the small window over her old-fashioned ceramic kitchen sink as she sipped.
Her apartment wasn’t in the fanciest of buildings, in fact, it was probably going to be knocked down sooner than later to make way for the new development that was springing up left and right. But she stayed here because she was in love with the view.
Four miles of quiet beach stretched out on either side of her backyard. The southern end of the Chesapeake Bay was only about eighty-two steps outside her back door—she’d counted—and she had a panoramic view of the famous Bay Bridge.
If she went out her front door, the road was busy, and the streets were not ones she was comfortable walking too late at night, though it was safer now that they’d decided to redevelop the more dangerous areas on the southernmost end of the avenue. Things were picking up; there were new businesses, homes and a golf course.
But it was the mix of people, the way new condos sprouted up between fleabag hotels and old apartment houses like hers, and how tidy, older ladies walked their prissy little poodles alongside kids with sagging pants and MP3 players that attracted her. The place had personality and diversity, and the entire neighborhood was eclectic and genuine. She felt like she fit right in.
She stared at the cards again, her thoughts returning to her brother. He’d had a hard time of it, and it didn’t look like anything was going to get easier, which broke her heart. She’d only known him for three years. She’d found him through a family locator service that helped siblings separated by the courts to find each other again. It had taken her almost ten years, since she was eighteen, to find him. She’d continued the search in fits and starts as money and time allowed.
She’d lived in New Hampshire then, the land of the White Mountains and presidential primaries, but she never regretted moving to Virginia to be near Ronny. He wasn’t able to move, and she didn’t mind. She was more flexible, able to work wherever she went. But, in truth, she would have lived just about anywhere to be near the only family she had.
“Hey, Mary, Mary…how does your garden grow?”
Ronny’s voice boomed as he walked through the front door, and she quickly slid the cards into the deck, gasping in delighted surprise when she saw he was carrying several flats of colorful flowers.
Because she worked planting and maintaining flowerboxes—one of her more profitable ventures—he always called her Mary, from the
