Chapter 8

Aaron waited for Livingstone and Griffin to escort Hope back upstairs before he opened the front door and let Cadell come inside with the extremely pissed-off detective. Hersh headed back to the unmarked car they had on the street.

Cadell and Hersh were in plain clothes so Aaron understood why a detective might be unnerved.

"Apologies for the unpleasant surprise, but the FBI are currently in charge of protecting ADA Harper." Aaron unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them back to Cadell who handed Aaron the detective's weapon.

"We checked him for a backup piece but he's clear," added Cadell.

"Give me my service weapon, you piece of shit."

Aaron held the man's angry gaze. "Like I said, for the time being, the FBI controls security around ADA Harper, and HRT protocol is for no weapons unless you're on her detail. ADA Harper wants to talk to you upstairs, so I'll hold on to your gun and return it when you leave."

Brendan Harper's eyes widened in outrage. "You think I'd hurt her? I'm the closest thing to family she has left."

"I understand that, but as I can't fully gauge all threats ahead of time, this is how we're gonna play it. If you want to leave, I'll give you your weapon back. If you want to talk to ADA Harper, I'll take you up."

Without his weapon.

Brendan Harper's eyes narrowed. "My boss is going to be talking to your boss."

Aaron pocketed the gun. "My job is to keep her safe, not to send hearts and flowers to Boston PD."

This was what he'd been trained to do, and he was confident his bosses would support his decisions.

Brendan Harper started climbing the stairs, and Aaron shot the others an eyeroll as the team went back to either guard duty or preparations. It often took time to find a rhythm during a protective detail, and sometimes having a rhythm meant you weren't doing your job as well as you might. You should never be too comfortable or relaxed. You had to expect a certain amount of variation, of unpredictability, so that potential bad guys couldn't set up an ambush at the client's favorite coffee shop where they stopped every morning for a bagel at 8:45 a.m. before heading into work.

Brendan entered the apartment without knocking and walked straight into the kitchen. Aaron followed, and found Hope engulfed in a bearhug from the other man. She shot Aaron a look over Brendan's shoulder that told him exactly how uncomfortable she was with the situation, but she didn't push the detective away.

It made Aaron inexplicably angry because he knew what it was to endure family when you'd rather be anywhere else doing anything else.

At least the smell of fresh coffee filled the air, the large pot on the burner.

He didn't see any evidence she'd eaten though. Aaron opened the fridge and put two pieces of bread in the toaster because keeping Hope fueled up would help get them all through the day.

She extricated herself from the embrace. "I guess you heard about Leech? Is it on the news?"

"Not yet. Friend of mine from Bureau of Prisons called about thirty minutes ago. I came straight over." He sniffed. It was cold outside. The guy wore street clothes and scuffed boots. "He told me three prisoners and two guards were missing. One of them was Leech." Brendan leaned against the exposed brick wall. "Hopefully, the guy drowned in the river and good riddance."

"Well, if he did, let's hope he surfaces soon so I can get on with my life and stop running a boarding house for action heroes." Hope produced a plastic smile.

Brendan glanced at him.

Aaron kept his expression neutral. He wasn't insulted the way he was probably supposed to be.

The toast popped, and he grabbed butter and marmalade. He didn't bother to ask if that was what she liked. It was in her fridge.

"I thought I'd come over to warn you. Didn't realize the cavalry was already here. You should have called."

"And have even more people crowding me?" Hope scoffed. "You know me better than that. Unless you need protection too?"

"I can protect myself." Brendan huffed and shot a derisive glance in Aaron's direction.

Hope poured coffee into three mugs. She handed Brendan one before nodding to a mug on the work surface as if to tell Aaron that was his. A small jug of creamer sat beside it, and a sugar bowl.

Aaron nodded his thanks and pushed the plate of toast in her direction. He sipped the coffee. Black was fine.

She picked up the plate and began eating.

Brendan rolled a shoulder. "I guess I do know you better than that. Hey, why don't I move in here until they catch the animal? These clowns can take over when I go to work in the morning."

Oh boy, the guy had a healthy ego.

"Let's put that to the Attorney General and see what she says, shall we?" Aaron said dryly. "A sleeping Boston police detective versus an elite unit of highly trained operators." He shook his head, not bothering to hide his derision. "Gonna be a tough call."

Hope flashed him a quelling look as Brendan stiffened. "I doubt the situation will last long. Let's face it, the chance of Leech getting far is remote at best. He was a trust fund baby who could barely tie his own laces. I doubt he's ever used a map, let alone stolen a car."

"True. But he sure was good at killing."

Hope flinched.

Brendan didn't seem to notice and drank his coffee. "How are you holding up?"

She took another nibble of toast. "I'll survive."

"Hope," Brendan admonished. "You don't have to bullshit me."

"I'll survive," she repeated and then demolished her toast like she hadn't eaten for days.

Aaron hadn't missed the omelet he'd made last night, untouched in the fridge.

The woman didn't take care of herself. Maybe that wasn't surprising under the current circumstances.

Brendan's face creased. "Hey, you don't think Leech would go after Ma, do you?"

Hope shook her head. "I don't know. Might be a good idea for you to stay with Mary for a few days, until this is over."

Brendan scratched his head. "I guess. She could always come stay here."

"There's not really space," Hope said quickly, "and I don't want to put her in any danger. I can send her on a nice vacation if we think there's any chance he might target her." She finished the toast and placed the plate in the dishwasher along with all three mugs.

"And now it's time for me to get to work." She eyed Aaron critically. "But whoever plans to be with me inside the DA's office or courtroom needs to wear a suit jacket and at least pretend they aren't armed to the teeth."

Aaron nodded agreeably even as inside he swore. "I'll have someone go pick something up today." From a thrift store.

She looked him over for another long moment, her gray eyes full of emotions he couldn't read. "Come with me."

Curious, he followed her to the second floor of the apartment where she went into a room that looked like a sparsely furnished office.

"Hope…" Brendan's tone was chiding.

"What? I planned to donate them anyway."

She opened the door to a walk-in closet that was filled with clothes.

"But…" Brendan spluttered.

She pulled out a black wool jacket and handed it to Aaron. "Try this on."

Then she went quickly through the hangers and pulled out three more sports jackets. "I don't know who they will fit, but they will save you a trip to the store and allow me to get on with my day."

Aaron slipped into the jacket and bunched his shoulders. It fit pretty well.

"You'll also need a shirt over that ballistics vest." She tore a bunch of shirts off hangers. "Tell your team they are welcome to come up here and take anything they want or need."

"But they were Danny's…" Brendan spluttered.

"Danny doesn't need them anymore, now does he?" Hope raised her chin a notch. "As I've told you a hundred times over the years, you are welcome to go through his things and take anything you want, but you are not welcome to tell me what to do with them."

If Aaron hadn't been watching her closely, he would have missed the pain she strove to conceal. She pretended it didn't hurt to give away her dead husband's clothes, but obviously it did—otherwise she wouldn't have kept them for so many years.

"Now," she said with forced brightness. "Time to get to work."