Page 88 of No Cap

Oh yeah, because Hollis was deep under my skin.

So that was how I spent the next ten minutes. Auden gave lessons, and I stayed still with my hips against the wall, trying not to add in my two cents.

“There’s this inner demon inside of each man,” Auden said as he stared at Tay. “On one hand, there’s this good guy who’s saying, ‘stop licking, her legs are shaking.’ And then there’s the bad guy who says, ‘keep going. Put her in a coma.’”

Tay blinked. “Ummm…”

I grinned.

By the time we got to the hospital with her food, it was to find her helping out a patient in the ER, very much busy, and unable to talk, let alone grab her food.

“Hey,” I said to the security guard who’d taken over for my brother. “When you see a gorgeous woman with brown hair, brown eyes, and about yay high,” I held my hand up. “With blue scrubs pushing one of those big X-ray machines—nametag reads ‘Hollis’—will you give her this?”

The security guard jerked his chin up before saying, “You got it, boss.”

Tay walked back out with me, glaring as he went. “What’s your problem?”

“I wanted to talk to her,” he pouted.

“She was working, Tayson,” I pointed out. “You can’t just expect her to drop everything to come listen to you apologize.”

He muttered something under his breath and had just gotten to my truck when he said, “My parents are divorcing.”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “And they’re being investigated for tax fraud.”

I blinked.

“Dad was stealing from the company, and they froze all of our assets,” he continued. “I…” He frowned. “I wanted to see if I could move in with her. They’re taking our house, too.”

I didn’t know what to say.

What I did know was that it was pretty shitty of him to think that he could come over here, lying about wanting to apologize for his and his family’s actions, and think that she would just allow him to move in because he asked.

“I’ll talk to her,” I said as I rounded the truck. “But I can’t make any promises.”

* * *

“Hey,” I said to my friend at the bureau. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

My friend, Easton, had been with the FBI for as long as I’d known him. We’d met on a case involving a murder that was connected to another case that he’d been working. From then on, we’d stayed in touch. We even saw each other once a year for a fishing trip in Montana.

“Shoot,” Easton said, sounding distracted.

“What are you doing right now?” I asked.

“Is that one of your questions?” he chuckled.

“Kind of,” I admitted. “I need you to look some shit up for me.”

“I’m at the house, but I can get on the computer, give me a few,” he said as he started moving through his house.

I could hear him talking, likely to his wife or his children, their replies muffled.

Then the noise abruptly shut off, and Easton said, “Okay, I’m away from the circus. What’s up?”

I gave him all the details I had.