His boy. He’d been his father’s son. What did he owe his dad? His father had obviously hurt his mom terribly, but did that negate everything else in his life? His mother hadn’t wanted a rift between them.

  “Do you think he raped that girl?” It didn’t matter that the sex might have been consensual. Legally, the girl wasn’t old enough to consent. It was still rape.

  “No, I do not.” His sister stood and walked to the railing, her shoulders straight. “I don’t believe he’s the man who appears on that video. I know it looked like him, but the camera never captured his face. Mom says he was into younger women. So I did some digging of my own after he was murdered. None of his mistresses—and let me be plain, I could only find three—not a one of them was under thirty-five.”

  Then why had his dad suddenly chosen fifteen-year-old Amber Taylor? Unless, like Gus suspected, his father hadn’t actually been the man on that footage.

  “Our mother has a skewed perspective about age,” Gus went on. “I know why and I’m not going to correct her. She’s entitled to what she believes, but I know the truth. Dad got lonely. I’m not saying it was Mom’s fault, but there are always, always two points of view, two sides to any relationship. I know she threw herself into being a mom after she had us.” Gus let out a long breath. “Each of those three women looked like her.”

  Tears rolled down his sister’s golden cheeks. Damn, he hated to see Gus crying. He hated even more that he’d been the one to upset her.

  Dax stood and wrapped his arms around his older sister. She was larger than life and so strong willed that sometimes he forgot she was fragile, too.

  “I’m sorry. And I apologize for what I said earlier. You aren’t like Dad. Hell, I don’t even know what to think anymore. I only know I don’t believe the reports. I think NCIS covered something up or they missed key facts.”

  “No matter what he did, he was our dad. Dax, we can’t let this stand. I need to help you. We need to find out who killed him because the father I knew would never commit suicide. Ever. He simply wouldn’t have done it.” She turned and cried against his shoulder.

  He heard someone moving behind them. The curtains fluttered and Mad emerged, his face red from his fight with the voluminous fabric. “Damn it. I knew it was hiding something. Fucking curtains. Hey. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Gus lifted her head and sniffled. “Of course you did, Mad. Interrupting is what you do best.”

  “That’s not what you said last . . . Never mind.” Mad knew better than to finish that sentence.

  His sister held on to him even as she rolled her eyes. “Give it a rest, Mad.”

  His sister could handle his crazy, lovably douchy friend. She would take what Mad had to offer without needing more. He had to admit, Gus was a woman who knew what she wanted and at this point, she wanted to have fun.

  One day some guy would set Gus’s world on its ear, and he was really looking forward to that day. But for now, he could have fun, too.

  “Hey, sis, who’s better in bed? Mad or Roman? You see, I’ve always heard women say Mad was a little immature. I wondered if that wasn’t referring to his . . . technique.”

  Mad scowled, his face turning beet red. “That is so untrue. In the old days, that would lead to a duel, sir. In fact, I think it should now. You have impugned my manhood. My dick is like the Energizer Bunny. Except more manly. And bigger. And without ears. The point is, I got stamina. And technique.”

  Gus snorted and shook her head. “I’ll never tell. Well, not until I need the cash and then I’ve got notes for a book that will shock everyone. I’m going to get some breakfast. I seem to have worked up an appetite. Ta-ta, dearies.”

  Mad pointed her way. “See. She worked up an appetite because I’m awesome.”

  And humble. Dax hauled back and punched him right on the nose. Not enough to actually break the fucker, but Mad would feel it for a while.

  “Shit!” Mad hunched over, covering his nose. His shoulders shook, but he stood up again and started laughing. “Okay. I probably deserved that.”

  The burst of anger had left Dax’s system. He still had unresolved feelings but none of that was Mad’s fault—or anyone else’s. “Just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear you bragging about bagging my sister.”

  Mad shook his head. “Never. Ever. Seriously, I’m more scared of Gus than I am you. She’s mean. Like seriously mean. And I won’t see her anymore if it really bugs you. I like Gus. There’s nothing serious there, but she’s cool.”

  “That’s Gus’s business,” Dax allowed. He looked down, but suddenly he didn’t need the Scotch anymore. “And I think I’ll join her for breakfast. I worked up an appetite, too.”

  “So you bagged NCIS last night. Nice.”

  “I’m going to punch you again.”

  “Let me rephrase. I’m very happy that you were finally able to profess all your man feelings to the lovely and proper NCIS special agent in a physical fashion. Should I have brought glitter so we could throw it around and show the world how happy and shiny you are now?”

  “Fuck you, Mad.” But he said it with a laugh.

  “I’m really happy for you, man. We’re going to lose you the way we lost . . .” Mad frowned suddenly. “Sorry. I was going to say Zack. It’s hard to believe Joy is dead.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know how Zack deals with it.” If he lost Holland . . .

  “Zack buries himself in work. He works from the minute he gets up until way past time any sane person would go to bed. I’m worried about him.”

  “Really?”

  “What? I can worry. I know I’m an irresponsible party boy, but I care about my friends. You guys . . . you’re my real family. My parents didn’t give a shit. I felt more comfortable here and at Gabe’s penthouse than I ever did at home. I’m living in the place where my dad kept his mistresses. I can redo the fucker all I like, but it’s not home. This is a real home. No matter what your dad did, at least he gave you love inside these four walls.”

  “You were listening?”

  “It was hard to avoid overhearing as I was being slowly digested by three hundred pounds of brocade. I think you’re doing the right thing. Gabe and I have been looking into it. Well, Gabe has been looking into it while I play solitaire, but he’s certain something’s going on. Do you ever find it odd that Joy died and your father was killed six weeks later?”

  “Joy was killed by someone who was trying to assassinate Zack. I don’t see the connection.”

  “That’s the funny thing about connections, isn’t it? You don’t always see them at first. I just have to wonder what the odds are that you and Zack would lose immediate family so close together.” Mad shook his head as if clearing it. “But don’t listen to me. My brain is twelve kinds of fucked-up at this time of the morning. Come on. Let’s eat something. Gabe uncovered some stuff about the investigation. He’s got some leads we can follow.”

  “Sure. I think my drinking is done for now.”

  Mad waggled his brows and picked up the Scotch. “Thank god. I thought you would drink it all. Come to Papa. And don’t sweat the stuff with your dad. God knows mine was far worse. I shudder to think of all the damage that man did. It’s certainly not my place to clean it all up. But I will help with yours.” Mad frowned as he stared at the gaping doors. “Don’t let the curtains kill me this time.”

  Dax followed Mad in. No matter what happened, he had his family. And Holland. She belonged to him now. Just because his parents had struggled didn’t mean he and Holland would. They would be honest and open with each other. They would not make the same mistakes.

  No way. No how.

  SEVEN

  Holland swept her finger across the screen to accept the call. Dax. Her guy. She was becoming that chick who grinned way too much and lost IQ points when her boyfriend walked into a room. Even her coworkers had started to rib her about it. She was more relaxed, definitely happier, and all because she had Captain Awesome in her bed—not to mention on her couch and over the dining room table. Over the last few weeks they’d pretty much made love on every surface of her apartment. And the night they’d had dinner at his mother’s place, he’d snuck her up into his old bedroom for a quickie. Not that they’d fooled anyone. His friends and Gus had been relentless in their teasing. And Judith Spencer had simply smiled and patted Holland’s hand and told her how happy she was.

  “Hey, you,” she said into her phone, leaning against her car. She didn’t drive often when she was in the city, but the streetcars didn’t run out this far. She wouldn’t have taken one even if it did since she was standing in front of a prison.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Did you make it all right?” Dax’s deep voice resounded over the line, every drawled syllable a reminder of the man’s slow, Southern sensuality.

  All she had to do was hear his voice and she shivered on the inside. “I’m here. My appointment is in a half hour. I’m going to talk to the prison officials first. It’s strictly a courtesy. They’re used to dealing with locals. My team doesn’t come out this way often.”

  Most of the prisons she dealt with were military.

  “I wish you would wait until I can be there with you.”

  They’d been over this more than once. “Dax, if you’d come along, I’d have to explain why. It’s easier this way, and if anyone dangerous really is watching us, it will look much less suspicious.”

  Not that anything frightening or out of the ordinary had happened since the asshole on the bike. But something about this case was starting to give her a bad feeling.

  “I’m the one who brought you the lead,” Dax argued.

  “No, Gabe did. You don’t see him here with me.” She sighed. “Babe, I explained all of this. It’s one of those times I should go in alone. Besides, aren’t you working today?”

  There was a lull on his end of the line. “Yes. Apparently they’re serious about getting this manual done, and soon. They want the new protocols in place in the next couple of weeks. Courtney is working her butt off, but there’s only so much she can do without me.”

  Courtney likely stared at his butt most of the day. Jealously flared, but she tamped it down. He had a really amazing backside. She would have stared at it, too.

  “I understand. You’ve already done your part. Your guys found Amber Taylor’s mom. This woman’s used so many aliases I’m not surprised we couldn’t find her. Connor has connections most law enforcement would pay a lot for. So relax and let me handle this. Did Gabe and Mad get off okay?”

  “Mad surely did. My sister made sure of that,” he said grumpily.

  Holland smothered a laugh. The last couple of weeks had been a revelation. Dax had spent every night at her place with the excuse that he didn’t want to hear his sister and Mad Crawford going at it. Holland kind of thought he just liked sleeping beside her. He’d practically moved in. She didn’t see him leaving because his friends had gotten on a plane to New York. “I’m glad he enjoyed his stay. I’m sure he made Gus’s pleasant as well.”

  “I’m joking about Gus. She leaves for D.C. tomorrow, and I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat. She’d learned he did that a lot when he got emotional. “Anyway, I hope this means we have enough to really reopen the case.”

  She didn’t want to give him false hope, but she was feeling optimistic. “I’m asking for the complete files. I’m going to tell my boss what I’m doing and why. Even though I can’t make it official, I think I have enough to put some of the team’s resources into it. My boss liked your father quite a bit. I think he’ll be open to a discussion. If I get NCIS involved again, I should be able to request access to your father’s former aide. He’s the one I really want to talk to.”

  “But naturally he’s on assignment and his whereabouts are classified,” Dax said with a cynical bite to his tone.

  Naturally. Everywhere they turned they encountered another roadblock or another detour that led to nowhere. “I think I can talk them into it if all goes well today. Especially when I show them the money trail Connor and Gabe found.”

  Once they’d located Amber Taylor’s mother, finding her financial information had been simple. She’d never actually been married to Amber’s father, though Sue Carlyle used his surname as an alias for years. The woman was a known con artist and roughly three days before her daughter had been caught with the admiral on tape, Sue Carlyle deposited five thousand dollars in cash to her bank account.

  Holland wanted to know where that money had come from.

  “Be careful,” Dax said over the line.

  “I will. Hey, it’s a prison. I’m fairly safe here.” She glanced up at the dour-looking building in front of her. It was a medium-security women’s facility. Unlike the land around it, it was gray and gloomy. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I’ll be late, but I’ll pick us up some supper. Bye, sweetheart.”

  She hung up with a sigh and turned to the task at hand. She might be able to give him the testimony or peace of mind he needed. They’d stayed up a few nights earlier making love and talking. He’d told her what he’d learned about his father. Clearly, Dax was hurt, and if she could be a balm to that ache, she would. Finding out his father hadn’t been a pedophile would definitely help ease his heavy heart.

  Gathering herself, Holland entered the prison. Half an hour later, she found herself in a small interrogation room used for interviews with law enforcement and attorneys. Nothing of interest lay inside the room. Like everything about the prison, it looked stark and seemingly hopeless. The table was stainless steel, the chairs bolted to the floor. A two-way mirror lined the back, but she didn’t see why anyone would use it on her. She’d explained she was simply following up with a potential witness on a cold case.

  The door opened and a slight woman entered, hauled in by a burly guard. Sue Carlyle’s face was the after photo on a poster of why not to try meth. Lined and wrinkled, cheeks sagging, she had aged far beyond her forty-eight years. The few teeth she had were black. According to the information Holland had obtained, this woman hadn’t lived an easy life. But what the hell had happened to her in the months since her daughter had become the center of a huge case?

  “You going to be all right?” the guard asked Holland.

  Sue shook almost uncontrollably as she sat.

  Yes, she could handle the drug addict. She looked like she weighed all of ninety pounds. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  The door closed and she was left with one of the only people alive who could tell her anything about what had happened the night Admiral Spencer had fallen from grace.

  “They said you wanted to see me. What’s this about?” Her gaze didn’t meet Holland’s but darted around as though scanning furiously for some kind of threat.

  “I need to talk to you about your daughter.”

  “She’s gone. Ain’t coming back. Ain’t none of us coming back.”

  “She ran away from home.”

  A snort came out of Sue’s mouth. “Sure. She ran away. Is that what you want? I already told everyone she ran.”

  “Who did you tell?”

  “Everyone I was supposed to, damn it. I’m tired of this shit. You got everything you wanted. Everything! But you keep sending in people to make sure you get more.”

  A chill cut through Holland, clear to her bones. “Ms. Carlyle, I’m not who you think I am. I’m here to help you. I want to help find your daughter.”

  A brittle laugh erupted from her chest, and she coughed as though the action hurt her in some way. “Bastards. You can’t find my daughter. Unless you remember where you buried her.”

  Sue’s words shocked her. Holland leaned in. “You believe your daughter is dead?”

  “I know it. Am I not supposed to say that, either? Is this some kind of test? I’m tired of you people fucking with me. I did what you asked. I took the money, and you know what? It wasn’t enough. Not even close. Do you know what that girl was worth? She could have worked and made more than that measly five thousand.”

  Holland froze. She and the woman were having a definite misunderstanding and she wasn’t exactly sure how to calm Amber’s mother down enough to get a coherent story. Holland had to talk her off the ledge, convince Sue she was here to help, and hope she didn’t clam up.

  “You took the money,” Holland reminded in a cold, factual tone. “You could have negotiated for more.”

  Sue’s eyes narrowed before she shook her head and looked away. “I’m not talking anymore, especially to your kind. I saw what you people did to my girl. My baby. She did you a favor.”

  A favor? Holland went with her gut on this hunch. “Yes, she set up the admiral nicely.”

  “Don’t know nothing about that.” Sue’s lips formed a grim line. “Nothing at all. All I know now is my girl’s gone and you people sent me here.”

  How did she get Sue to explain who “you people” were?

  “Perhaps we could also get you out of here if you cooperate with us.”

  “I don’t do nothing but cooperate.”

  Holland knew she was walking a thin line now. She tried to sound as reasonable and non-threatening as possible. “I’m trying to clean up a few issues within the organization I work for. Some overly enthusiastic associates worked the front end of this operation. I need to make sure I have all the facts. Who was your contact?”

  Sue stared blankly for a moment before her eyes came back into focus. Then she shook her head. “I ain’t saying nothing. I ain’t got no contact.” Tears started running down her face. “I hate you Russians. I hate you all.”

  Russians? “I’m going to have to insist that we have this debrief, Carlyle. My boss wants to know all the facts before he makes a decision.”

  “About what?”

  “About whether or not to help you get out of this prison.” Guilt twisted her gut, but she had to have the information. “Who was your contact?”