Chapter 19

Despite the wisevoice in his head, warning him to look away, Ash couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tear his gaze from what he, in his professional career as a full-blooded male, considered a perfect ass.

The lightweight robe Kayla wore barely reached mid-thigh, exposing well-toned legs and incongruous blue, gray, and white striped crew socks. Her hair fell in sloppy waves around her face and over her shoulders, sealing her warm, fresh-out-of-bed look.

In the dark, primitive depths of his lizard brain, he knew it was a sight he would never get tired of seeing. Not in a day, a year, or by the next ice age.

He’d tried like hell to ignore his attraction to the lobbyist. After all, she was the architect of his current misery.

For the most part, he’d been successful, until the incident with his brother Rohan and his girlfriend, Lena, when Kayla had helped them corner a killer and take down a vindictive hacker. And the time she’d used her connections to assist Liv in shutting down a high-profile drug scheme, which had the added benefit of helping Zeke track down a priceless family heirloom.

She’d put her life and reputation on the line for his family, making it impossible for him to dislike her.

He muttered a curse and scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d hardly slept last night, worried about how he would balance the demands of his job with the duty he owed his family. A position he’d prayed he would never be faced with, but seemed to fall into every time he turned around these days.

Whether either of them liked it or not, Kayla was an honorary Blackwell now, deserving of his protection, no matter the cost.

Family first.

Through blood.

Through hate.

Through fear.

Through joy.

No exceptions.

Zeke and his brothers had come up with the mantra, not long after Ash had left for the FBI. At a time they’d needed it most, the mantra had bonded the brothers together. Gave them the reassurance they needed to run the family business without Ash.

He’d been both proud and envious.

He’d tacked on the Through joy after overhearing them chant the mantra one day. Zeke had nodded his acceptance at the time, but Ash was under no illusions that his contribution had survived longer than that moment.

Although he would never regret his decision to leave, he was keenly aware of the many degrees of separation between him and his family now. That mound of uncertainty, awkwardness, and distance he experienced every time he went home made him want to return to the city, to his job. To safety and familiarity.

He wished he could find the balance between being a Blackwell and being a special agent. But Ash knew that day would never come until he and Zeke had a long, hard talk.

He’d hurt his brother—his best friend—when he’d left. The way he’d left. They both had things for which to apologize, things to get off their chests. Things to forgive.

Yet the timing never seemed right. Maybe the way things were now were how they’d always be, and he just needed to accept the new norm and move on.

Family first . . . no exceptions.

He clasped his hands behind his neck, wishing he had the strength of Thor to rip off his head and the regenerating ability of Beetlejuice to grow a new one. A better, undamaged-by-life’s-poor-choices model.

When his head remained firmly attached to his neck, he blew out a harsh sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the painted timbers above.

As soon as he finished with this case, he would set up a time to meet with Zeke. Maybe he’d talk to Reid Steele or Gage Barber about renting a block of time in the boxing ring at their Law Enforcement Training Center.

Might be best to blow off some steam before their conversation. Controlled violence was preferable to out-of-control, hotheaded violence.

Ash became aware of eyes on him. Malevolent eyes.

Slowly, he lowered his hands and began a three-sixty until he spotted the source of his unease.

Sitting on the center cushion of the glider Kayla had vacated was a laser-focused, unblinking cat.

The feline who had thrown a literal hissy, scratching fit every time he tried to check on Kayla’s injury, the night he bashed her on the head.

The cat stood, arched its back, then prowled toward him. Close enough for him to notice the scar tissue running over its hip and down its leg.

The pain must have been excruciating. Had a fire consumed one of Kayla’s properties? Or was this cat another one of her charity cases?

A memory of the first time he’d met Kayla slipped into his mind. It had been a Saturday. Phin had crashed at his place the night before, and the two brothers had stayed up late, reminiscing, drinking, and staring at the night sky.

The next morning, foggy-brained and bloodshot-eyed, they had dragged themselves out of bed for a late-morning run. As they made a circuit through Pack Square Park, Ash had spotted Liv sitting with a friend at a picnic table and had signaled for his brother to follow.

As they jogged closer, it hadn’t been his red-headed colleague who’d held his attention, but the stunning blonde at her side. With her focus on stuffing items into what he would later learn were care packages for residents of a local nursing home, he’d been able to catalog her exquisite features—high cheekbones, dimpled left cheek, delicate jawline, slender neck, and a long, curvy-in-all-the-right-places body. Though he wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing anything below her neck until sometime later, because of the damned basket sitting in front of her, he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t be disappointed.

Then her green eyes had lifted, met his for a gut-clenching moment, before they made a quick, yet thorough sweep of his bare torso, glistening with sweat. He’d seen appreciation and interest in those beautiful, bold orbs.

After he’d confirmed her ring finger was bare, he’d determined to do everything in his power to leave the park with her phone number.

Until Phin had called out to her, followed by Liv’s introduction. Every hormone vibrating with glee in his body had turned to stone as if they’d looked upon a molecular version of Medusa.

Kayla-fucking-Krowne. The lobbyist who had helped mobilize enough North Carolinians eight years ago to elect Eileen Tao as Attorney General, then lobbied for Tao’s appointment as the FBI Director.

Tao the harbinger of new forms, procedures, policies, anything to make her mark on the department.

“Is this decent enough for you?”

Kayla’s voice pulled him back before his thoughts spiraled down the death and dismemberment lane.

She stood in the doorway, with her long, blond hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, minimal makeup, and sporting a long-sleeved peach and white tee over a pair of white calf-length yoga pants. Different fluffy crew socks. This pair had swirls of pink, yellow, and white.

No one should look that good in such casual clothing. But Ash had a suspicion she’d make any outfit look amazing. And hot.

“Do you want to talk out here?” he asked. “Or somewhere else?”

“Since you’re here in an official capacity, how about we move to my office.”

He gave her a quick nod. “Lead the way.”

Crispy jumped off the glider and trotted after her mistress, her regal back straight, and left Ash to follow in their collective wake.