Ian shook his head. “Please don’t. I would hate to have to bury Liam. It’s in his contract that if he’s killed, I have to haul his ass back to Ireland for burial. That bastard won’t even let me cremate him.”
Sean didn’t want to hear about whatever was in the Irishman’s contract. Liam was fairly new to the team, and Sean found him slightly annoying. He didn’t like the thought of him pawing through Grace’s belongings. “What are you doing here, Ian? I’m not supposed to check in until tomorrow.”
“Well, I was checking out this little book. Seriously, Sean? She’s reading a book called The Submissive’s Response. Women read this shit? This is like fantasy BDSM. No real Dom does stuff like this. He lets her tie him up. This author needs a little time with a real Dom.”
The last thing Sean wanted to do was discuss Grace’s choices in literature. “Again—I ask, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“You were supposed to check in yesterday.” His brother set the book down. Ian’s hands steepled in his lap. He sent Sean a look guaranteed to remind him who was the big brother and who was the little one.
Sure enough, Sean couldn’t help but feel defensive. “I left Eve a message. I was busy working. I had to put in time with Wright and then got roped into a dinner meeting. You know how rough a deep cover assignment can be.”
Ian gestured around the comfy little room. “You’re not exactly posing as a drug dealer deep inside a crime syndicate, Sean. You could have found the time to sneak away and call in. I expected you to call at ten last night. What were you doing?”
Grace. He’d been doing Grace, in the pool, and then in the bed. The image played in his brain. Then, when he should have been copying the hard drive from her computer, he’d been holding her while she slept. He wasn’t about to mention that little piece of information to his brother. “I told you—I was busy.”
“Obviously. So you’re finally in the lady’s bed.” To Sean’s mind that sounded a bit like an accusation. “It took you long enough considering the lady’s choice in reading entertainment. You could have been in her bed a long time ago.”
Sean hadn’t wanted to push it. This whole line of conversation was making him uncomfortable. “We’re friends.”
Ian stared at him, his eyes like laser beams looking for something to cut. “She gave you the key to her house. I would say you’re more than friends.”
He wasn’t having this particular conversation. He didn’t want to discuss the more intimate portions of his relationship with Grace. It felt too much like a report. What had happened between him and Grace last night hadn’t been about business. He certainly wasn’t going to hold back when it came to anything important to the case, but Ian didn’t need to know how right it had felt to hold her or how damn content he’d been when he woke up this morning pressed against her body.
“I’m working on it.” Sean went back to the front door and picked up his bags. He set his suitcase down, and then started unloading the groceries.
“Work harder. You haven’t found out anything we don’t already know. If you can’t get this job done, then I need to pull you out and send in someone who can.”
Sean ignored his first violent impulse to leap over the bar and beat his brother to a bloody pulp. No one was going to take his place. If Ian thought he could simply tell him to back off and Sean would let someone else try to seduce Grace, he was insane. The only thing that kept Sean calm was the unwavering belief that it wouldn’t work. Grace wouldn’t be interested in anyone but him. She’d proven it by offering herself last night. He was the only man she’d wanted since her husband died. Sean was quiet, and his reply as pointed as an arrow. “I’ll get the job done.”
“See that you do.” That wasn’t his big brother talking. That was his boss. Sean knew the difference.
Ian stood up and walked to the bar. He leaned forward. “What are you making?”
“Coq au Vin.”
Sean could practically see his brother start to drool. “That sounds good.”
“It will be if I ever get a minute to put it on.” Sean pulled out the fresh chicken he’d bought and a cutting board. He picked up the knife he’d intended to slit Liam’s throat with and put it to another purpose. “Has it ever occurred to you that I can’t find anything because there’s nothing to be found?”
Grace was so sweet. Despite his knowledge to the contrary, it was hard to believe she was really involved in this mess.
“The CIA guy doesn’t think so.”
“Oh, well, if the Agency believes it, then it must be true.” Sean remembered many buddies and teammates who went down because the CIA got its intelligence wrong. Afghanistan had given the Agency plenty of opportunities to screw things up. Of course, it wasn’t the screwups that really worried Sean. It was the fact that the Agency always protected the Agency. They would use the rest of the world as pawns for their games. When Sean was a Green Beret, he hadn’t had a choice in whether or not to play. He would rather hold a hot poker in his hands than have anything to do with the CIA.
Ian’s fingertips drummed along the top of the bar. He hopped up on the barstool and made himself comfortable. “I think they’re on to something here. Mr. Black gave me a look at his file on Wright. Wright is escalating. Black thinks he’s behind two arsons, one at a lumber yard and one that killed a couple of people at a real estate development office. He likes to hit corporate offices, especially ones in large cities. Unfortunately many of those are in high-rises. The last fire that he started affected a twenty-nine-story building. It caused millions of dollars in damage, and the locals called it faulty wiring. I don’t buy it, and neither does Black.”
“Then why hasn’t he called in the cops? This should be handled by the feds or Homeland Security.” Sean’s hands worked quickly on the chicken. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he would really be happier in a restaurant somewhere. Fort Worth was a foodie town. It might be a really good place to open a little bistro.
Ian’s hand slapped against the bar. “Get your head in the game, Sean. What’s wrong with you? I’m talking about catching a killer, and you’re more interested in that chicken.” He leaned over and looked at the spices Sean had purchased. “What is Coco Van anyway?”