Rhonda Nelson - The Closer

Determined to get started, he nodded and made his exit. He’d just walked into reception when Juan Carlos, their office manager, halted him with an urgent psst.

Griff frowned and walked over to the thin Latino man’s desk. Juan Carlos wore a perpetually long-suffering look and the latest in men’s fashion, and sorted his ink pens by color. “Yes?”

Juan Carlos slid a picture across his desk. “Does this woman look familiar?”

Griff picked up the photo and studied it. One look had confirmed that he didn’t know who the woman was, but he was curiously struck by her nonetheless. Inexplicably, his stomach tightened and a tingling sensation flitted through his chest. He told himself it was indigestion and batted the curious sensation away.

Long, wavy dark brown hair framed a face that was heart-shaped but lean, emphasizing her high cheekbones and lush mouth. Her skin was luminous, practically glowing with good health and vitality. It looked soft, touchable. Her eyes were large, an unusual misty gray and surrounded by thick, sooty lashes. Hidden humor lurked in that gaze, as though she was privy to some private joke. She was smiling, almost shyly, and there was something about that hint of vulnerability that made her especially attractive. She wasn’t merely beautiful or pretty, though those words certainly fit. She was...lovely.

And hot.

Oddly shaken, Griff handed the photo back to the office manager and shook his head. “She doesn’t look familiar, sorry.”

Juan Carlos swore hotly under his breath. “Damn them. This isn’t funny anymore. They can’t keep playing the same joke on every new agent. It’s not professional.”

Joke? What joke? Confused, Griff frowned. “Come again?”

Juan Carlos straightened, then seemed to give himself a little shake. “No worries, Major Wicklow, you’ll recognize her soon enough,” the little man said grimly. He gathered up a sheaf of papers from his desk, then stood and swiftly retreated before Griff could press him for further clarification.

Rather than dwell on the bizarre exchange, Griff shook it off. After all, he had a strategy to plan...and a very expensive bra to protect.

* * *

PAYNE WAITED UNTIL he was certain Griff was out of earshot and then turned to face the other two. He arched a questioning brow. “First impressions?”

“I don’t think we could have matched him up to a better first assignment,” Guy said, dropping back into his chair. “If anyone needs to be able to find the humor in a situation, it’s him.”

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. Granted, he hasn’t had a lot to laugh about of late, but by all accounts he’s always been rather...serious.”

Thanks to Charlie, their female hacker extraordinaire, they knew more about Griff than he’d no doubt be comfortable with. School records showed a well-rounded, bright, promising athlete until the seventh grade. Beyond that, various counselors and teachers had noted a distinct withdrawal from social clubs, sports and the like. By all accounts, Griffin had abandoned normal school-age pursuits and started working various odd jobs. He cut grass, hauled hay, raked leaves, bagged groceries, walked dogs, anything that would net him a cash return for his services. And the impetus that had caused this change?

His father had left.

As the only “man” left in the house, amateur analysis suggested that he’d prematurely stepped up to try to fill his father’s role and had developed an early sense of obligation and duty. No doubt that’s what had appealed to him about the military, where the lines were clearly drawn and order was law. He’d earned an ROTC scholarship, graduated at the top of his class and quickly moved onto Ranger School. He’d excelled in the military, had been routinely given difficult assignments because he’d proven time and time again that he could see them through and, as a result, had been given the nickname “the Closer.”

A quick glance at his financials had revealed that, in addition to buying the house his mother and sister currently lived in, regular monthly transfers had been deposited into his mother’s account. Both his mother and sister had obtained their nursing licenses and worked for a small home-health company in Chapel Crossing, just outside the city. Payne would be willing to bet that Griff had paid for that, as well.

“He seems to have recovered well from the surgery,” Guy remarked.

“He does,” Payne agreed. “Dr. Jackson cleared him for work without any restrictions, so I think the physical toll is past him.” In addition to Griff’s own doctor, Payne had insisted that theirs take a look at him, as well. Better safe than sorry, right?

Jamie shot him a look. “What about his emotional health? You think his head is on straight?”

Payne hesitated. “I think it’s on straight enough to do the job. I think he’s struggling with the sudden, unwanted relationship with his half brother.”

Guy grunted knowingly and his eyes widened. “That had to have raked up some shit. Go seventeen years without hearing a peep from his father and then a phone call out of the blue from the man, asking him to give up a kidney for the son he actually raised?” He grimaced significantly. “That would screw with any guy’s head.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t the kid’s fault, was it?” Jamie added. “Griff’s dad was the bastard, not the boy.”

“And the kid was dying,” Guy said. “It wasn’t like Griff had a choice.”

True enough, Payne supposed, but it couldn’t have made the ordeal any less difficult.

And no doubt figuring out where to go from here was going to take serious thought and consideration. Even from the outside looking in, the family dynamics were a nightmare. Even if Griff decided that he wanted to get to know his little brother, how would his mother and sister feel about it? Would they approve? Or would it be too painful for them? He didn’t envy Griff, that was for damn sure.

“Are we certain Jessalyn Rossi is going with him?” Jamie asked.

“Last I heard,” Payne told him. “She wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I gather her father is a bit of a recluse and her siblings no longer have anything to do with the family business. It’s her or no one and, evidently, letting someone else accompany the bra isn’t an option either.”

“What do we know about her?”

Payne chuckled. “She’s hell on wheels. Literally. She works for the company and by all accounts is a top-notch jeweler.” He hesitated. “In addition to that job, she moonlights as a mechanic and dabbles in amateur stock-car racing. She’s doing quite well this season,” he added mildly.

Both Guy and Jamie swiveled to look at him, their faces identical masks of shock.

“Seriously?” they echoed.

Payne nodded, enjoying their expressions.

“Well, that should certainly make things...interesting,” Guy remarked.

“Something needs to,” Jamie remarked, tossing a jelly bean into his mouth. “This case seems pretty cut-and-dried.” He shot them a sardonic smile. “In other words, boring.”

Payne smiled but wasn’t convinced. He had an odd feeling about this assignment—a premonition of...something he couldn’t seem to shake—and intuition told him there was more to this mission than met the eye.

He just hoped Griffin Wicklow was ready for it.

2

JESSALYN ROSSI WIPED her hands, stuffed a grease rag into the pocket of her coveralls, then dropped the hood into place with a soft click. She turned to the car’s anxious owner. “It’s the water pump, Walter,” she told the older man. “You know I’d fix it for you if I had time, but I’ve got to go to New York for a few days for Dad.” A shudder of dread rippled through her middle.

Hell would undoubtedly be a more pleasant destination.