That was a tough call. Debate where I was surrounded by the dudes I would be disparaging or a beer. “Yeah, sure.”

  She grabbed two bottles from the fridge and popped the tops off. She handed one to me. “Settle in, pals. It’s going to be a long night.”

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  By midmorning we were all groggy from staying up half the night. Michelson was getting a warrant to search the Placerville Airport and its hangars. I was bored out of my damn mind. If I wasn’t sequestered, I would have dragged Nate up to the airport and started checking planes myself. Of course, Henry’s accomplices likely knew exactly what Nate and I looked like so it was possible that was a bad idea.

  Laurel was avoiding me, which I didn’t blame her for. But she was also hot, which I found extremely unfair. She had spent most of the morning helping Boyd wade through flight manifests to find flights that could match up with the locations and times we’d pulled from Raphael’s texts. Her competence and confidence were just as they had always been. She was straightforward and quick. And she had the location of every piece of paper on the table memorized, which was just unnecessarily capable. She was wearing cutoff chinos and a baggy V-neck. Her feet were bare. She looked casual and summery and completely unconcerned with how attractive she was.

  Also I’d checked and she still wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “You want to get off?” Duarte tugged at my shorts.

  “Huh? What?” I looked at him in surprise.

  He pulled at the iPad tucked under my leg so it wouldn’t fall off the couch. “Get off the iPad, dude.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.” I lifted my leg so he could pull the iPad out.

  “I take it you haven’t found anything new?” he asked.

  “Nope. I even checked the internet history. Malone was right. There was a lot of porn.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah. He tried to warn you.”

  “Don’t victim blame me.”

  “Right, of course. You didn’t willingly look at a browser history entirely made up of PornHub links only to be shocked that it was all porn or anything.”

  “Exactly.” We grinned at each other. “I’m all for people getting off however they want, but that was abnormal, right?” I asked.

  “It’s not like addicted to porn levels, but it was a lot. That said, he was doing a ton of solo surveillance and it’s certainly one way to pass the time.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a cis straight dude thing?” As if he wasn’t a cis straight dude.

  “Maybe. I don’t spend time with many cis dudes. Just Nate, really. And we don’t talk about our masturbation habits.”

  “And you think Cash and I have strange conversations,” Laurel said.

  Duarte and I turned our heads in unison. I was sure it looked quite comical. “We’re discussing Henry Brewer, thank you very much,” I said.

  “Yeah.” She scrunched up her face. “I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”

  I shrugged because I didn’t know either. “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up that Jalen and Michelson are headed over here.”

  Duarte sat up straighter. “Do they have an update?”

  “Not yet. We’re waiting on the warrant to come through. But since Jalen is the only one who is cleared to work on this, Michelson was afraid someone at headquarters might be spying or something. He’s getting paranoid.”

  “Or it’s totally rational,” I said.

  “Yeah, it just seems a little over-the-top. I’m sure half the agents are secretive and weird about what they are working on. No one would notice if Jalen did the same thing. Anyway, they will be here soon.”

  Duarte leaned forward to see where Reyes, Malone, and Boyd were. “Are they sleeping here?” he asked quietly. “Because we’re already cramped.”

  “Honestly, I have no clue,” she said.

  He shook his head and unlocked the iPad. “If they are, I’m bunking with you, Braddock.”

  “Why me?”

  “You seem less squirmy than Kallen,” he said without looking up from his iPad.

  “Naw, she’s not squirmy. But she does like a good snuggle.”

  “Hey,” Laurel said.

  Duarte laughed. “I forgot you two were, uhh, never mind.”

  “If you can’t say it, you probably shouldn’t do it,” I said.

  “And if my Catholic grandmother ever asks, you tell her I never have,” he said.

  “You got it.” I grinned. “Grandmothers love me.”

  Laurel sat in the wingback next to us. “Most of the time grandmothers love you. But remember when you let that grandmother kick you in the face?”

  Duarte whipped around to see my reaction.

  “One time. You get kicked in the face by a grandmother one time and suddenly it’s your whole brand.”

  “Your life is so much cooler than mine,” Duarte said reverently.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Here was the thing about Agent Randy Jalen. She was hot. I was expecting a geeky tech dude, but turned out she was not a dude. And also she was smoking. Sure, she was still a geeky tech dude, but with more hot chick happening.

  Her brunette hair was pulled back in a messy bun. She was wearing jeans and a starched blue dress shirt. Her shoulder holster was barely covered by a boxy blazer. A briefcase strap diagonally bisected her chest. She was wearing aviator style eyeglasses that were clearly stolen from a seventies kidnapper. None of it should have been attractive and yet it was.

  “Agent Jalen, this is Detective Lucas Reyes from Sac PD. That’s Jeff Duarte.” Michelson pointed at each of them in turn. “Detectives, this is Miranda Jalen.”

  “Randy, please.” Jalen leaned forward and shook their hands.

  “Good to meet you,” Reyes said.

  “Glad to put a face to the name.” Duarte grinned. She smiled back.

  “I believe you know Laurel Kallen.” Both Laurel and Jalen nodded. “And this is Cash Braddock.” He nodded at me.

  I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Do we have a warrant yet?” Reyes asked.

  Michelson shook his head. “I already pissed off the judge by calling too many times. But Jalen is making progress with tracking the flight records so maybe that will turn up something.”

  “On that note, you mind?” Jalen pointed to the less crowded end of the dining table.

  “Go ahead,” Michelson said.

  She nodded and set her briefcase on the table. It was a beat-up leather and canvas number. She unpacked a laptop and an iPad with a keyboard. She shrugged out of the blazer and hung it on the back of her chair. It immediately drooped to one side. She sat, opened the laptop, and started clicking. One-track mind, that woman.

  “Want me to walk you through what we have?” Duarte asked.

  “Yeah, that would be great. Where’s Malone?” Michelson looked around.

  “He should be back shortly. He’s on a grocery run.” As Laurel said it, there was a knock on the door. “That’ll be him.” She looked at me and nodded toward our bedrooms.

  I followed her in. Five minutes before when Jalen and Michelson showed up, I’d been in my room. Presumably, Laurel had gone into her own room. This time, it would have been weird to go into separate rooms, which was how I ended up in a bedroom with my ex who I’d recently kissed.

  “So.” I looked around. Not at the bed though. Definitely not there.

  “So you’re just going to avoid me?”

  “Well, not if you’re going to just call it out like that.”

  “When did you become a coward?” she asked.

  “I’ve been an emotional coward my entire life, thank you.”

  She sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Oh, thank God.” I opened it.

  “You two are clear,” Duarte said.

  Malone and Reyes were unloading groceries. There was a grace in their movements around each other. I walked to the bags on the counter waiting to be unpacked and glanced in.

  “I didn’t get you beer, but I did get those kettle chips you asked for,” Malone said.

  I pulled the bag of chips out. “I’ll forgive you then.”

  Duarte leaned past me. “Malone, when you’re done, I want to give Michelson an update.”

  Reyes paused with his hands full of romaine. “Go ahead. I can finish here.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Malone finished unloading apples into a bowl on the counter, then followed Duarte to the end of the table opposite Jalen.

  “How’s it hanging?” I opened my bag of chips and sat at the bar to watch Reyes.

  “Great. Are you planning on eating and watching me instead of helping?” he asked.

  “See?” I pointed at him with my chip. “Phrases like that are why we call you a dad.”

  “It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

  “Well, to answer your perfectly reasonable question, yeah, I am planning on sitting here and eating and watching you,” I said.

  “Okay. Are you planning on letting Laurel off the hook anytime soon? Or are you just going to let her twist?”

  I crunched a chip and froze. “Uh.”

  “Because she knows she screwed up.” He opened the fridge and put away a gallon of milk and a half gallon of soy milk. “Either let her in or let her go.”

  I finally swallowed my very dry mouthful of chips. “I thought you two didn’t talk about me and her.”

  “We didn’t. Now we do. You want to sit there and not help, this is what we’re discussing.” He handed me a cold La Croix.

  “I feel for your kid. How old is she?” I opened the can and took a swig.

  “She’s exactly not the point years old.”

  “You know other people can hear us, right?” I asked.

  “Jalen is in her own world.” He nodded at Jalen who was completely enraptured by her laptop. Her blazer had fallen off the back of her chair and was pooled at her feet. “Michelson, Duarte, Kallen, and Malone are briefing and not paying attention to us.” He looked around. “And I’m pretty sure Boyd is finally getting some sleep.”

  “Right. Great. Super.”

  “So what’s the issue?”

  “I don’t know if I can trust her,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “You know damn well why. For the first month of our relationship, I thought her name was Laurel Collins. Oh, and she was an undercover detective investigating me,” I said. He stopped putting shit away and faced me fully. “That’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Nope.” He turned and started folding grocery bags. “Already resolved and moved past that one. You don’t get to bring it up now.”

  “You don’t get to dictate what I can or cannot bring up. And also, when you consider the larger narrative of her quitting the department, leaving me, and moving out of town, then it becomes just a little more relevant again.”

  “I’ll grant you that. But also, it wasn’t about you.” He tucked the folded bags into an empty cabinet.

  “Maybe not, but it hurt me just the same.”

  “So you’re just going to torture her indefinitely? That’s a dick move, even for you,” he said.

  “I’m not trying to torture her. I didn’t mean to kiss her. And I apologized.”

  “What?” he whisper-shouted. It was possible she hadn’t told him about the kiss.

  “Nothing. I—Nothing.”

  He crossed the kitchen so he was standing a foot away from me. “You kissed her?” he whispered.

  “A little.”

  “When?”

  “Last night?”

  He stared me down. “You crazy kids need to work this shit out. I can’t take it.”

  “Calm down. Worst-case scenario, your doctor ups your heart medication again. It can’t be that expensive.”

  Behind me, all the voices stopped suddenly. I turned around and saw Michelson on the phone.

  Reyes came around the counter. On his way to the living room he said, “You better hope not. I’m sending you the bill.”

  “Whatever.” I followed him to the living room where we all waited quietly for Michelson to hang up.

  Michelson was giving one-word answers that were more grunts than they were actual syllables. He seemed displeased. He finally hung up. “Fuck. That stupid bureaucratic fuck.”

  “I take it the warrant went through with flying colors?” Laurel asked.

  Michelson glared at her.

  “What’s the issue?” Malone asked.

  “The magistrate feels we don’t have a compelling enough reason to search the rental hangars.”

  “Wait. So you’re saying a red smudge painted on a plane in the background of an undated promotional photo isn’t solid evidence of a connection to TMNT?” Laurel asked.

  “Weird,” Duarte said.

  “It’s 82.36,” I said.

  “What?” Michelson asked.

  “That’s the percentage I was sure it was Raphael’s face mask. Did you tell the judge about the 82.36 percent?” I asked.

  The bedroom door opened and Boyd came out. He was looking more casual than I’d seen him thus far. He was wearing jeans and a crisp button-up, similar to Jalen’s, actually. Except his shirt was painted on. The dude was seriously cut.

  “You’re just in time,” Malone said to him.

  “For what?” Boyd asked.

  “The bad news. Our warrant was denied,” Michelson said.

  Boyd grunted. “Damn. So no records?”

  “And no hangar search,” Michelson said.

  Boyd leaned against the wall. “Yeah, but that’s only the indoor ones. Most of their rental space is on the tarmac.”

  Michelson stared at him. We all did. “You never told me that,” Michelson said.

  Boyd looked confused. “I’m pretty sure I emailed you.” He went to the dining room table and opened his laptop. After a minute, he read aloud, “The rental hangars at PVF are both indoor and on the tarmac. Most of the rental spaces are located outdoors.”

  “Jesus Christ. Okay, so are they only public space?” Michelson asked.

  Boyd shrugged his Johnny Bravo shoulders. “It’s all public, but the tarmac is restricted for safety reasons. But if someone wanted to rent a space, they would probably give them a guided tour.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” Michelson asked.

  Boyd sighed and picked up the laptop to read again.

  “Never mind.” Michelson put his hands up. “Never mind. That’s on me.”

  “I also said in the email that a warrant would gain us greater access.” Boyd half-shrugged.

  “So we’re sending Boyd to do a tour, right?” Laurel asked.

  “Obviously,” Duarte said.

  “No. What? No, no, no,” Boyd said.

  “Why not?” Laurel asked.

  “I’m not good at subterfuge. I’m good at paperwork. And research. I’m a bad liar.”

  “How?” Laurel asked.

  “Not everyone is good at undercover work, Kallen,” Michelson said. He looked at Boyd. “And that’s okay.”

  “Fine, but we’re all recognizable.” Laurel pointed at Reyes and Duarte. “Brewer knows us so his accomplices also know us. And you were at Melody Brewer’s place so you’re blown too.” She nodded at Michelson.

  “I’m not bringing in anyone else unless we have to. Intensive background isn’t feasible right now,” Michelson said.

  “I’d do it, but I’m Black and it’s El Dorado county. I don’t fit the right profile,” Malone said.

  “What about Alec?” Laurel asked.

  “He might be blown too after clearing your room at the B&B,” Malone said.

  “He might, but have you ever seen him out of his fed suit?” Laurel asked.

  Malone shook his head. Boyd and Michelson joined in. “He looks completely different. Mess up his hair and put him in some khakis and he’s unrecognizable.”

  “Bullshit,” Duarte said.

  “Trust me,” she said.

  “She’s right,” Jalen said. We turned in surprise. “Orr and I jog together. Once he loses the hair gel, he looks completely different.”

  “He still doesn’t have the knowledge to feign being a pilot,” Boyd said.

  “Would you do reconnaissance if you had Orr with you?” Laurel asked.

  “What?” Boyd appeared shocked at this turn in conversation. “Why?”

  “Because it’s a good skill for you to have.” Said the woman who made a career out of undercover.

  “Did you call it reconnaissance so I wouldn’t get freaked out by the term undercover?” Boyd asked.

  “Yes.”

  Boyd nodded very seriously. “Okay. I’ll go with Orr. But you have to give me tips on going undercover,” he said to Laurel.

  “Sure. I can do that,” she said.

  “I’ll call Orr,” Michelson said.

  Agent Orr showed up an hour later. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, but instead of slicking it per his usual, it was falling in a dashing tumble of curls onto his forehead. He had on round frame tortoiseshell eyeglasses. He wore a striped pocket-T, khaki shorts, and sneakers. His confidence had softened. It was still present, but it seemed to be held up with a smile rather than a gun.

  “Told you,” Laurel said.

  “This is wild, man.” Boyd walked around Orr. “Are the glasses real?”

  “Yeah. I wear contacts normally. My eyesight isn’t bad, but I don’t like to miss anything,” Orr said.

  “What do you think?” Laurel asked Michelson.

  “Let’s send them in.” He waved Orr to the makeshift conference table. “Boyd, go ahead and call the airport to set up an appointment. Then we will teach you the basics of reconnaissance.”

  “And I’d like a crash course in aviation,” Orr said.

  Boyd nodded. He took Orr’s phone to call the airport. As if the rinky-dink Placerville Airport would notice. Or have caller ID for that matter. Still, the attention to detail was cute.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Orr and Boyd spent half the night practicing aviator lingo and how to lie. I wouldn’t have minded, but my room shared a wall with the common area and I really didn’t need to memorize what FBO stood for and I already knew how to lie.