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I rake a hand through my hair and prop my hip against the counter, staring out the windows at the beach beyond.
The ocean stretches out, an expanse of cerulean blue that meets the horizon in a blurry line. The sun reflects off the waves, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadows. Seagulls soar in the sky, their silhouettes against the clear sky like small black specks.
"Fine," Tahani grumbles. "Don't tell me then."
I can't help but smile at her tone. She hates not getting her way, but she'll get over it.
"How's Sacramento?" I ask as the scent of coffee permeates the air.
"It's so awesome," she breathes, instantly perking up. "Trent took me to tour the stadium yesterday. It's fucking huge! I'm so proud of him."
"When's his first game?" I ask, endlessly fucking relieved Trent was traded to the Kings and not a team halfway across the goddamn country. I hate that Tahani's fucking dating, but Trent's good for her. He worships the ground she walks on. That's all I can ask.
She rambles off the date, chattering a million miles a minute. When the coffee machine beeps, I pour a cup, and promise her that I'll come to his first game if I can.
My phone vibrates as she continues rambling. I pull it away from my ear, and sigh when I see Finn Bethel's name on the display.
"Hani? I need to go," I tell her gently.
"Okay. We'll talk soon. Tell Mila to call me. Love you!"
"Love you too, kiddo," I say before swiping to answer my boss's call.
"You still haven't called Brady," Finn snaps as soon as I have the phone to my ear.
"Nope, I haven't."
"Goddammit, Roman," he curses. "Do you ever fucking follow orders?"
"You know I do." I grind my teeth together. For ten years, I've followed Finn's orders, doing everything humanly possible to help close cases. It pisses me off that he's questioning me now. I do my fucking job, and I don't complain. But I'm not calling Brady.
Finn rattles off a string of curses.
"What the fuck is up with you?" I demand. He's on edge and more pissy than usual.
He curses again, a rough growl of sound. "We have a situation.”
His words hit me like a blast of icy wind, sharp and deadly. My heart lurches in my chest as I push off the counter, fear twisting through my veins like a wildfire.
Mila is here, asleep in my bed. If Jose Guerrero finds me here, if he finds her here...fuck. I can't even finish the thought without a wave of overwhelming panic crashing over me.
"Tell me," I demand, gripping the phone so tightly that it feels like it might shatter.
"Some of Guerrero's people in Seattle blew up a club with a DEA agent inside. They were using the club to create some new drug."
Panic begins to recede, giving way to searing anger. My grip on the phone loosens.
"They were able to round up most of those involved, but another agent was shot in the process. From what we know, at least one subject with connections directly to Guerrero got away. He's on the run with what could be millions worth of some new drug they concocted."
"Jesus Christ," I swear, stunned. The last thing anyone needs is some new drug in his hands. With that kind of leverage, he could corner the market on the drug trade, not just in Mexico and the United States, but everywhere. This is why they wanted the fucking guns. This is what they've been doing. And we were looking in the wrong place all along.
"How the fuck didn't we know this?" I growl into the phone, frustrated.
"They weren't aware of the connection until recently."
"Fuck me. It's too early for this shit."
"Yeah, well, had you called Brady like I fucking told you to do, you would have known about this yesterday," Finn says, still pissy about it.
