Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

"So we'll do it together." Mind made up, he was already rolling through the scenarios and building a plan as he hit the button to open the garage.

"You mean it?" The surprise in her voice punched him right in the balls.

"Yeah, I do." He pulled into the garage and cut the engine. "It's the right thing to do."

And it was. Not just to make it up to Leah, but because she was right. Sitting around like a breathing target wasn't going to keep her safe. As long as the ringleader thought she had the diamond instead of it being in the sheriff's office evidence lock up, she was in danger and he couldn't have that. It was time to go on the offensive, which meant keeping his hands to himself and his mind on the mission instead of Leah's perfect ass. So, once inside, instead of giving into the call of the sway of her hips or the undeniable thing zipping between them, he offered her a curt goodnight. Then, he left her standing in the bedroom doorway, a confused look on her face, as he made up the couch for another night of lower back agony that was still less painful than the guilt and regret about his behavior that was eating him from the inside out.

6

Leah

The next morning, Leah was on the cranky side after Drew's unexpected hands-off goodnight and was yet again staring down the coffee machine when her cell buzzed. However, unlike yesterday, she wasn't alone and Drew was dressed—too bad.

He paused mid-bite in his inhaling of a mountain of bacon surrounded by a valley of scrambled eggs. "Is that your contact?"

"Yeah." She tapped the answer button and set the phone down in the middle of the kitchen table, then sat down next to Drew, trying to ignore her body's instant awareness of him as he scooted his chair closer to hers. "Hey, Lexie, what did you find out?"

"Ugh," Lexie groaned. "Am I on speaker? I fucking hate being on speaker."

"Sorry," Drew said. "That's because of me."

"Oh, I like that voice," Lexie said. "Is this Mr. Big Dick?"

Leah almost spewed her first sip of coffee everywhere.

"Yeah," Drew said, glancing up at Leah and giving her a sexy smirk. "That's me."

Cheeks burning at Lexie's usual lack of filter, Leah got the conversation back to where it was supposed to be. “So, what can you tell us about Wynn and Miller?”

Drew's raised eyebrow let her know that he was probably going to bring the whole big dick thing up again. Of course. Because this is how her life worked in Catfish Creek, home to all of her top ten most embarrassing moments.

"Both are more muscle than brain," Lexie said at a fast clip, no doubt used to giving these types of bad guy briefings to the other B-Squad agents. "If I was going after a fifteen-carat diamond, I sure as shit wouldn't be leaving them unsupervised—especially not if the person I was selling to was half as pissed as it seems Mr. Moneybags is."

Drew's head jerked up.

"Rewind, Lexie," Leah said.

"Okay, Wynn and Miller work for Warren Law, nice irony, right? Officially, he's in the import/export business but instead of cocaine along with his shipment of antiques, he dabbles in hot jewels. He's as dirty as a Jeep after you've taken it mudding but he's non-violent—not even a whisper of him using the muscle twins for anything other than general intimidation, which is probably why they haven't jumped you already. Law has a reputation for patience. Too bad he's under the gun this time. Warren had a buyer all lined up for the diamond, a buyer who doesn't take no for an answer and likes to outfit people in cement shoes. So poor Warren has to get that diamond or go to Mr. Bent Nose and explain why he doesn't, which—in all likelihood—will end very, very badly for him."

"How do you know this?" Skeptical didn't even begin to describe the cynical look on Drew's face. "The FBI isn't even sure who Miller and Wynn work for."

Lexie's snort came through loud and clear over the line. "I've got skills the Feds wish they had."

"And a tendency to hack her way into places she's not supposed to be," Leah added.

"Yeah, well, if those guys would share information a little better their lives would go so much more smoothly," Lexie retorted.

Drew shook his head. "That's never going to happen."

The import/export was a great cover for a jewel thief. In a weird way, Leah couldn't help but kind of admire the guy for putting such a solid front in place that even the FBI hadn't figured it out. All they had to do was figure out a way to get to him and get him on the record admitting to the diamond theft. After that, the FBI would step in, arrest him, and she'd be free and clear.

"So your thinking is that Law is here in Catfish Creek?" Leah asked.

"I'd bet my miniature hand-blown glass feline collection on it."

That was as good as a guarantee. "Have any goodies to share?"

"Always," Lexie said. "Pics and a down and dirty brief is already in your inbox."