King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

“Actually, yeah, I am.”

“You have got some balls, lady.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Sean said, “Let’s try and keep this on a professional level. First things first—why are we here?”

Littlefield stared back at Sean. “You are really asking me that, to my face, really?”

“Yeah, I really am. We were sitting in my house with a client not doing anything illegal as far as I’m aware when we looked out the window and saw Patton’s Third Army surrounding the place.”

“Well, let me refresh your memory then,” said Littlefield. He picked up a remote and pointed it at a screen hanging from one wall of the room.

On the screen an image popped up.

It was Sean and then Michelle climbing down out of the wreckage of the destroyed motel room and then running off. Littlefield hit a button on the image, freezing it, and then tossed the remote down on the table and said, “Nothing happens anymore where there’s not someone or something around to record it.”

He plopped down into a chair, put his hands behind his head, and said, “So unless you’re claiming that’s not you on the video, you have damn sure got some explaining to do.”

Sean and Michelle stared at the screen and saw themselves staring back.

Sean said, “Someone tried to blow us up. I don’t suppose your ‘camera’ got a shot of him?”

“Why would someone want to kill you?”

“Have you spoken to McKinney?”

“I know about the mall incident. I know a two-star kicked your ass in the waiting room of a hospital because you got his wife nearly killed. And I know you’ve got a kid for a client whose dad is MIA and maybe for all the wrong reasons.” He leaned forward and placed his palms on the table. “What I don’t know is why to any of it. And McKinney doesn’t seem to know why either.”

Michelle said, “There’s a lot of that going around. We seem to have the WTF virus too.”

Littlefield glanced at her. “Former Secret Service, both of you. Only drummed out for messing up big-time.”

“Ancient history,” said Sean. “If you check our more recent past, you’ll see we’re legit and good at what we do. Lots of people will tell you that.”

“They actually have. Because I’m good at my job too, and I asked around before your butts ever got to my playground.”

Michelle said, “So why are you hassling us?”

“Because you left the scene of a bombing without talking to the police. You both know better than that. What the hell were you thinking?” Before Sean could answer he went on, “And now the kid’s stepmom is missing. So that means he’s an adolescent on his own. You knew that too and didn’t tell anyone.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was our job to do your job,” retorted Michelle.

Littlefield stood and leaned against a wall, his arms folded over his chest. “So the bottom line is, I don’t know what to do with you two.”

“You could release us and let us get on with our work,” suggested Sean.

Littlefield smiled and shook his head. “Don’t think so. Two loose cannons out there is not something I need.”

“So you’ve been assigned to find Sam Wingo?” asked Michelle. “And by the way, we’re not loose cannons.”

“I’m not going to tell you what I have or haven’t been assigned to do.”

Sean shook his head wearily. “Let’s cut to the chase. You’ve been tasked to find Sam Wingo. This is becoming an international incident. It’s too hot for DHS to handle so the Bureau’s been called in. An explosion occurred. Until it’s determined to be solely from domestic sources, it’s the Bureau’s jurisdiction. Whatever Wingo did or didn’t do over in Afghanistan has everybody over here white-knuckling their chairs and considering the impact on their careers.”

“We know what he lost,” added Michelle. “Over two tons of euros. A billion three in U.S. dollars.”

“Who the hell told you that?” barked Littlefield.