Bang: B-Squad Book Two (5 page)

It was a reassuring gesture to keep Bryson talking, but the interrogator's trick had the opposite effect on Isaac. Jealousy—cold, hard and solid—hit him straight in the gut, as unusual as it was tangible.

"They were perfect," she continued. "Did you happen to tell him where you were delivering the centerpieces?"

Bryson dropped his attention from the sexy woman in front of him to the tip of his left shoe. "I might have."

'Might have' his ass. The kid had given up the location of the party. Time for good cop to give way to pissed off cop. The kid was a contender, but Isaac was bigger, meaner and more experienced in the ways of scaring the shit out of young punks.

He slipped between Tamara and Bryson. "Did you or didn't you?"

"Yeah," he squeaked out. "He said he wanted to talk to Mr. Hazard in a neutral location. I know you guys are working cases upstairs. I figured he wanted to share information without looking like a snitch." He made a half-hearted kick at the gym's concrete floor. "I should have told someone. I'm really sorry."

Tamara's pointed elbow landed firmly between two of Isaac's rib as she circled around him to face the fighter. "Don't worry about it, Bryson. You didn't do anything wrong."

The other man mumbled a thanks and hustled off to the locker room, leaving Tamara in all of her icy glory standing next to him.

"There was no need to go all asshole on him," she said as she examined her red nails. "He didn't do anything wrong."

For once when he was around Tamara, Isaac's brain got the upper hand over his dick. The moron had leaked the party location. That he didn't realize he was doing anything wrong was beside the point. He could have gotten Tamara killed. There wasn't a single shred of a doubt in his mind that Fane wouldn't bypass any kind of legal processing and skip straight to doing whatever it took to get Essie's location out of Tamara—even if that meant having to do a very final clean up afterward so no one would ever know what happened. Keir had put together a complete brief on the cult leader. Fane didn't think he was above the law. He thought he was the law.

"He didn't do anything wrong?" He shoved his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank a few out. "He gave you up to Wolczyk."

She shrugged. "It was an accident."

"The kind that could've given Fane your location," he bit out.

He didn't need to elaborate the world of hurt that would come down after Fane found her so the bastard could peel Essie's location out of Tamara's brain. She knew. The truth was written in the pinched tightness around her eyes and the sudden pallor on her skin.

"But it didn't." She brushed her hands across the swell of her hips and threw back her shoulders while a dangerous gleam blazed in her blue eyes.

Oh shit. "I know that look."

"What look is that?" For the first time since she clamped eyes on Bryson, she turned her full attention to Isaac.

Something shifted inside him as his cock tried to take the wheel from his brain. Exactly the effect she knew she'd have on him. He had to hand it to her, the woman used ever tool at her disposal to get her way—and that meant turning him into a horny idiot who'd get the hell out of her way. If he wasn't so familiar from using the same tactic himself, he'd be pissed off. As it was, he had to admire her commitment. Too bad it wasn't gonna work.

"The one that says you're already planning to run."

Her gaze held steady, but clasped her hands together tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "That's not the word I'd choose."

"Semantics."

"Call it what you want then, just keep your mouth shut about it." The mask dropped and she showed off her true glory. She wasn't an avenging angel. No. This Tamara—the real one, he'd guess—was a survivor and a bare-knuckle brawler who'd sacrifice it all to protect those she loved. "I don't want to cause the team any more headaches than I already have and Essie can't afford to have me lead Jarrod to her location."

"On one condition."

Her eyes went wide, no doubt she'd been expecting another answer. Oh no, he knew better than to run full-tilt at a brick wall and expect it to result in anything other than his head broken open and his brains dripping out. He just needed to keep her off balance. She wouldn't head off right away. No, his girl liked to plan and plot. Snagging Essie and running had probably been one of the few spur-of-the-moment things she'd ever done.

"What condition?"

"Dinner with me tomorrow night." There was no reason why they couldn't get something they both wanted—no matter how she tried to deny it—while at the same time making sure she stayed safe.

She sighed and all but rolled her eyes. "I really don't have time for that."

"No problem. I'm sure the team has plenty of time to hear what kind of trouble you're about to get yourself into by taking off for parts unknown without any backup at all."

Blackmail? Him? Oh, he'd stoop to that and much more. Tamara wasn't the only one willing to go to the mattresses to protect others.

"I'm the last person Taz and Bianca want to help."

It was a nice try. "I suppose that's why they welcomed you into the B-Squad."

"I'm just an office manager, easily replaceable."

That she believed that nonsense was as obvious as her wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am curves. He didn't know who'd worked a number on her head, but someone had scrambled it up but good.

"Uh-huh." Like anyone got upstairs without the full blessing of the B-Squad. "Do you agree or not?"

"Just dinner?"

If there was a God in heaven, no was the answer to that.

"Whatever else is up to you and that little voice inside you telling you to jump my bones like a trampoline, darlin'."

This time she did roll her eyes. "How charming."

"Trust me, my charm isn't what the ladies love most about me." He winked at her, loving the way it put a little pink back in her cheeks. "I'll pick you up after work."

"I'll meet you," she said hurriedly.

More like she'd find a way to ditch him.

"Oh no, darlin'. This is Texas. We have manners. I'll be at your desk to pick you up at five sharp." He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at her. "Until tomorrow."

As much as he loved watching her walk away—the view was astounding—that's what she expected. With a woman like Tamara, going the expected route was the worst thing possible. It's what made that ice queen facade so easy for her to maintain. What she needed were hurdles and challenges and someone to shake her expectations. He wasn't sure when it had happened—maybe when he'd offered her that glass of wine at the engagement party and she'd looked at him like he was her own white knight—but somewhere along the line he'd decided to become that someone she needed. Now he just had to show her exactly how good it could be if she let herself melt.

T
he sun blazed
in through Tamara's westward-facing office window. The countdown had begun.

Ten minutes to go before she went to hell...or heaven...or a little bit of both. She didn't fucking know. All she did know was that she was done with the gathering out in the hallway. It had been going on all day. People dropping in for random bits of this or that throughout the day, eyeballing her. Asking her about Isaac. Wondering if she had plans tonight. No doubt gauging whether she was going to go through with the date. As the clock ticked down to five o'clock, most of the B-Squad had taken up observation points outside her office like vultures along the highway eyeing a particularly juicy piece of roadkill. Subtle, they were not.

As she had done all day, she kept her attention focused on her laptop and the billing system software open in front of her. She'd been finishing everything up, leaving lists of what needed to be done in her absence and writing explanations about how to carry on her tasks when she was gone. The numbers and words had all started to blend together an hour ago. She wasn't hiding. She just....she just didn't know what else to do with the anticipation bubbling up inside her with every inch the sun took toward the western horizon.

"Can someone explain to me why every agent I have is glued to the closed-circuit video monitors?" Bianca Sutherland's voice cleared through the quiet buzzing in the hallway. "Are we under attack?"

Not that she welcomed a full-out assault on the B-Squad headquarters, but it would give her an out. One she wanted to take. Didn't she?

"Camacho is in the gym." Keir said, his voice louder than it needed to be.

Was he giving her a heads up in case she wanted to flee or busting her chops? Either was a strong possibility.

"So?" The B-Squad's founder responded.

"He's coming up here next," Vivi said.

Tamara jerked and hit the wrong key, adding an extra set of zeroes to the invoice for the Galligan case as she eavesdropped on the conversation outside her office.

"Again, so?" Bianca asked.

Elisa sighed. "She finally said yes."

"Who?" Taz asked.

"Tamara," Duke replied.

"English please," Bianca ordered.

"After a week of Camacho bird-dogging Tamara, she finally agreed to go out with him." This succinct explanation came from Lash.

"That doesn't explain why you're all out here," Bianca said.

Thank you, Bianca. Now there were three words she hadn't expected to be thinking right about now. Giving up on the pretense of typing, Tamara sat still in her chair, straining to hear the response.

"You really think we'd miss this?" Lexie asked.

A half sigh, half chuckle from Bianca. "Explain to me again what I'm paying you to do."

"Be amazing." This from Vivi—of course.

"The Swan paperwork is on your desk and the research is done on the Snyder case," Marko said.

Bianca stopped in front of the doorway. "We have a flamethrower. Do you want me to clear them out?"

It was tempting. God knew she'd considered setting off the fire alarm. Only the fact that this group was a lot more likely to run toward the flames than away from them had stopped her.

"It's okay," Tamara said. "I can take it."

"I believe that." Bianca strolled inside Tamara's office as if there'd never been anything between them but a simple employer/employee relationship.

They both knew that wasn't the case. Tamara had shown up in Fort Worth with the express purpose of extorting a million dollars out of Taz, telling everyone that she was still married to him. In the process, she'd almost ruined Taz's still new relationship with Bianca. Sure, it had been a desperate move done so she and Essie could go underground and escape Jarrod, but that didn't make it right. It had been easier to justify when she didn't know the team, didn't know Bianca. Now that she'd spent time with the former bad little rich girl made good, the shame of what she'd done twisted her into knots. Bianca had every reason in the world to hate her, but instead of whacking her over the head with a shovel and burying her out in the boonies, she'd given Tamara a job and breathing room to figure out a plan to keep Essie safe.

It was nice while it lasted, but with the bounty hunter showing up at the engagement party she couldn't pretend that Jarrod had forgotten about her and Essie anymore. It was time to take the little stash of money she'd managed to save and get off the grid. If Jarrod couldn't find her, then Essie would have a chance.

It was time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her laptop. "Bianca, I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

Bianca leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed her arms across her chest. "Why do I hear a ‘but’?"

"No ‘but’." At least not one she could say. They'd find everything tomorrow, and by that time, she'd be on the road for places unknown. "I know how I came here was wrong. I shouldn't still be here. I'm sorry for that."

"I'm not." Bianca shrugged.

Tamara tried to process what that meant, but couldn't. Of all the people at the B-Squad, Bianca and Taz had more reason to want to see her ass hit the road than anyone else, and she couldn't blame them.

Outside in the hall, the murmurs went silent. The elevator binged its arrival.

There was only one reason for that.

Isaac.

"He's a good guy," Bianca said. "You can trust him."

"How do you know?"

The other woman gave her an understanding smile. "Taz trusts him and that's enough for me."

Tamara tried to imagine what that was like, trusting another human being so much. It was like trying to imagine what sunshine tasted like—a silly fantasy she didn't have time for.

The elevator opened up to reveal a human gauntlet. Isaac should have expected it. They'd been giving him shit all week about Tamara. There was no way in hell they were going to miss the chance to bust his balls. It was okay, he had big brass ones.

"You're all a bunch of assholes." He flipped off their grinning faces.

"Camacho." Taz stood in the middle of the scrum, looking every bit like the heavyweight championship boxer he'd been. "Let's chat."

Fuck. Now this he had been hoping to avoid. "Sure, man."

He ducked into Lexie's empty office. The whole place was covered in cats. Inspirational posters on the wall. Figurines. Stuffed animals. Even a life-sized cardboard cutout of a cat in mid-swipe with its claws extended, blood dripping from the edges. The woman had some crazy cat lady shit going on, no doubt about it. He made a mental note not to piss her off. Shit, that could be applied to everyone at the B-Squad.

Taz closed the door behind him and then leaned against it with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face.

Oh, this is going to be a good time.

"You're going out with Tamara?" Taz asked, his eyes narrowed.

Isaac sat down on the corner of Lexie's desk, careful to maintain an unconcerned air even as guilt seeped in. "Was I supposed to ask permission first?"

Okay, Tamara was Taz's ex-wife and the guy code was pretty clear on this, but the rules had never been something Isaac had overly concerned himself with. It was one of the many things that made him a shitty team player.

"No." Taz clenched his jaw tight, obviously as uncomfortable with this chick flick moment as he was. "She's a grown woman who can make her own decisions."

Isaac's shoulders relaxed a few millimeters. He wasn't a part of the B-Squad team. He didn't belong so much as he was B-Squad adjacent, just the way he liked it. But that didn't mean he was good with being persona non grata with Taz and the rest of the team. They'd started to grow on him.

"So what's the problem?"

Taz nailed him with a hard look. "Don't fuck with her."

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying," Taz said, his voice quiet and deadly serious. "You chased her. Don't think just because she said yes that you caught her."

He picked up one of the small, red wooden cat figurines on Lexie's desk and rolled it in his hand, letting its sharp edges scratch his palm. "Are you warning me or warning me off of her?"

The other man shrugged. "Both."

This really had gone over to the weird touchy-feely side. Was he the bad guy in this situation? Was Tamara? Did it even fucking matter?

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Consider it carefully before you do anything stupid." Taz pushed off from the door, his gaze never leaving Isaac.

If they were going to be closed-door dick measuring, he might as well know exactly why. "Is it because she's your ex?"

"It's because she's skating the edge right now," Taz said, his voice harder than a pissed off steer's hooves.

"You don't think I know that?" He knew it. He saw it in the way Tamara was always eyeing the door, the way her body tensed any time someone new walked in a room, the way she'd kept her white-knuckled hands clasped tightly in the cab of his truck after he'd gotten her out of the Corsair Club.

"Yeah, well knowing and giving a shit about it are two different things," Taz shot back.

Heat flared in Isaac's belly. He'd knew every twist, turn and jagged rough patch on that motherfucking edge. With deliberate care, he placed the wood cat on the desk next to Lexie's keyboard and unfurled himself from his sitting position. He had maybe an inch on Taz, but they were well matched and he was done sitting down for a lecture.

"Is that what this is?" He stalked toward the door, infusing each step with snarl and attitude. "Are you giving me the dad talk before I take your darling daughter to prom? That's screwed up."

"Fuck you." Taz took a menacing step forward.

Isaac met him halfway, little jolts of testosterone-fueled adrenaline popping against every nerve. "Likewise, man."

And this was why he didn't do the whole team thing.

Teams had a way of swallowing a man up and leaving nothing behind. He'd been there. Experienced that. He was done sacrificing everything for some supposed greater good that turned out to be just another hill, just another check mark on another man's to-do list that never made a damn bit of difference to the people most affected. Independence wasn't just a word for him. It gave him the freedom to pick and choose his cases, walk away from the bullshit and change what he could for the better. It let him finally wipe some of the red off his ledger—and there was a lot.

He didn't have time for someone else's bullshit.

"Are we done here?" he asked, keeping his stance loose and his gaze steady, ready for whatever was coming next.

"Yeah." Taz pivoted, giving Isaac a clear path to the door. "Good talk."

Isaac didn't look back, didn't hesitate—he walked out the door and into the now deserted hallway. Tamara's office door was open.

She stood next to her window and ran her fingers across the shelf where the black and white photo of her sister Amelia holding her newborn had been the day before. It, along with anything else that marked the office as Tamara's, had disappeared. She faced away from him, but he didn't need to look in those big blue eyes of hers to see the tension stringing her shoulders tight and the anxiousness in the shake of her fingers.

She hadn't left, but she was already gone. He had tonight to convince her that running wasn't the best option. No one knew that better than he did.

Shaking off the last of vestiges of his confrontation with Taz, he dialed up the charm. "Ready for dinner, darlin'?"