I never call him Lee,alwaysUncle Lee. Even at thirty-three, it’s something I haven’t managed to shake.
Maybe because he’s my godfather, or that he’s been my dad’s best friend since forever, or that he stepped up and helped raise my little sister and me after my mom died.
It may also have something to do with him being the father of my older half-brother.
Whatever the reason, it’s enough to tip him off as to the nature of my call.
“Sure, is our usual spot in an hour good?”
“Can we make it ninety minutes?”
“I can do ninety minutes.”
“See you there.” I slip my phone into my pocket and pull a drive out of my bag, connecting it and bypassing the Fed’s firewalls meant to prevent me from copying info to an external device.
My movements are mechanical, my fingers pressing all the right keys though I can’t seem to remember my brain sending the order. I’m on autopilot, which is probably for the best since I’ve got about an hour to dig as deep as I can, and an adrenaline rush won’t do me any favors.
This is the last chance I get, because if this is as big as I think it is, I can never set foot here again once I leave this building.
* * *
Sawyer
“Sawyer?” Jonah’s harsh whisper snaps me out of my daze.
“What?” I blink, looking up from the photo in my hand, the one I picked up after Jonah slid it across the table, fighting to keep my hand steady as I lower it from eye level.
“I asked if you remember Phoebe’s cousin, Maddie,” he says, repeating the question I couldn’t hear over the buzzing in my ears, brought on by what might have been an instant and extreme heart attack level spike in my heart rate. “About five times.”
“I just got back from a three-week protective duty from hell,” I answer, hoping the excuse I’m about to lay thick on him will settle his mind and hide why I was so out of it. “I’m tired as fuck, Joe. Give me a break.”
Jonah raises an eyebrow, but being my boss, he knows how crappy this last A-lister detail was, so he can’t argue.
“I wanted to meet early so we could discuss this job privately. Andrew is going to be here soon, so I need you to focus.”
I nod, not trusting that my voice won’t disclose to my best friend how a photo of a girl I knew for a week feels like a punch to the gut even a year later.
The photograph was taken at Phoebe and Andrew’s wedding, a closeup of Maddie’s smiling face. To a bystander, it looks as if she’s posing for the camera, but I wasn’t a bystander that night. For a brief and glorious moment, I got to be part of Maddie’s world.
I’m the one she’s smiling at with that sly grin I grew so fond of during our week together, her mesmerizing cat eyes, remnants of Egyptian ancestry, fixed on me as I gave her a smile of my own. Her smile was a dare, and the troublemaker in me couldn’t resist the invitation.
The photographer hadn’t even lowered his camera before her arms were wrapped around my neck, her head thrown back and mouth open in unrestrained laughter—she was bursting with life, and I was caught up in her vibrant exuberance as I spun her on the dance floor. There are photos of that somewhere as well, though I have no intention of ever seeking them out.
Then something happened and Maddie ghosted me without so much as a word, leaving me all sorts of mind fucked.
Finally feeling like I’ve gained control over my voice, I casually toss the photo back to Jonah. “Why are you showing me a photo of Phoebe’s cousin?”
Jesus, you can’t even bring yourself to say her name out loud.
“She needs our help. Off the record.”
“Did Barbie break a fingernail?” I lean back and pick up my beer, forcing myself to seem disinterested though I’m ready to get on a plane this second and fly to wherever Maddie is at the mere thought of her being in trouble.
“No.” Jonah doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he’s examining me with a calculated gaze.
Shit. I recognize that look. I’ve been through the trenches with this guy, commanded him for five years. He was my left hand while Andrew was my right. I know them better than I know the people who gave me life. Like them better, too. And right now, I can say with certainty that Jonah is reconsidering his choice to assign this mission to me.
The thought sends a rush of panic through me, blocking out whatever little sense I have and leaving my impulsive nature in charge, which means my next course of action will be embarrassingly stupid, and either a stroke of genius or an epic fail.