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They drove in silence most of the way, each immersed in their own thoughts until they reached a junction on the highway that pointed toward Pensacola. “We’ll make it,” Skyla said, picking up on Blake’s tension.
He nodded, unable to speak from the lump in his throat. Just like him, Brennan was a risk taker. He blamed that annoying attribute of hers on himself, because no matter what kind of trouble she got into growing up, she knew her big brother would always be there to get her out of it.
He kept telling himself he needed to let her fall, so she’d stop relying on him to always come to her rescue, but dammit, she was his baby sister. He’d do anything for her. Just like he would for Emily, except Emily was more like their mother. Responsible, sensible, and the only trouble she ever found herself in was eating too much ice cream before bed as a kid, and then not being able to fall asleep from the sugar rush.
They were cutting it close and the odds of Brennan being stuck in jail for the night were higher than he wanted to admit. At least he’d get to see her and talk to her. He shouldn’t, not without her lawyer present, but she probably already had a lawyer, even if it was one assigned to her by the state. Blake would just have to drag his or her ass in, no matter how late it was.
There was no way he was letting a night go by without talking to her and making sure she knew that he was there for her, just like he always had been. He was pissed at her, angry that she’d done something so stupid, but Brennan was his baby sister, and he loved her.
Skyla reached over the center console and placed her hand on his arm. A gesture of support he welcomed. He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The last half hour of the drive, his foot barely left the gas, except when absolutely necessary.
They pulled into the parking lot of the Pensacola Police Station ten minutes past five. There was no way he was going to get Brennan in front of a judge tonight, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t move heaven and earth to see her.
Blake and Skyla walked into the precinct, and he motioned for Skyla to take a seat in a small waiting area while he approached the front desk.
He pulled out his badge. “Special Agent Blake O’Connell, FBI. I’m here to see Brennan O’Connell.”
The officer looked up at him as soon as he heard the same last name. “Your relation?”
“She’s my sister.”
The officer nodded. “Well, we can’t let you back there without her attorney present and he’s gone home for the night.”
“Call him back,” Blake deadpanned.
“Excuse me?” The officer asked as if Blake had just insulted his wife.
“Call him back. I have reason to believe she could be involved in a federal investigation and I need to see her. Now.”
The officer rifled through a file on his desk. “Possession with intent to sell.” He huffed out a breath, then picked up the phone and dialed.
Blake turned to see Skyla sitting where he’d instructed. She was looking at her phone, but just having her close was the greatest comfort to him.
“Mr. Daniels isn’t answering. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“No. Tell Brennan I’m here and I need to see her now. I don’t care if she’s asked for an attorney. She’ll see me.” When the officer didn’t budge, Blake leaned into the counter. “Please,” he said. “Imagine if this was your sister.”
The officer stared at him for a long moment, then smirked. “It’s a good thing I only have brothers. Hang on a minute.” He stood and went through a back door. A few minutes later he came back and buzzed Blake through.
“Stay here,” Blake told Skyla. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
She nodded, then returned her attention to her phone, likely dealing with last minute issues at Madigan's, spurred by her absence.
Blake felt bad for taking her away from her responsibilities, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret having her with him. He was more at ease when she was close. More himself. Whatever that meant. But it was true, and he didn’t have time to analyze it.
He followed the officer to a small room with a table and two chairs. Brennan was sitting in one of the chairs, her hands handcuffed to a metal hook in the table. “Blake.” Her one word tore at him as he took in her puffy eyes and red nose. She’d been crying. He wanted to take her in his arms. Hold her to him. Tell her everything would be okay, but this wasn’t the time for that. Instead, he nodded to the officer to leave them and took a seat across the table from her.
“I’m so sorry, Blakey,” she started to say, but he held up his hand.
“Not one word,” he ordered, desperately trying to maintain a level of professionalism. He couldn’t show any emotion here. Not now. Not with her already being so on edge.
He was still the FBI, and since she’d been read her Miranda rights and was placed under arrest, anything she said could and would have to be used against her in a court of law. “You do not speak unless your lawyer instructs you to. Got it?”
Her gaze, sad and broken, met his. He sucked in a silent breath and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The only way he could help her was to hold it together. No matter how hard this was.
“Not even to you?” She asked in a small, hoarse voice.
He shook his head. “Not even to me. I just wanted to see you. I wanted you to know that I was here, and that I’m working on a way to help you.”
