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He went to the door and glanced out of the peephole. A woman was standing on the other side. A very attractive woman dressed professionally in a business suit. As if she’d known he was looking at her, she stared back. No smile or frown. Just a look of indifference. However, her short, curly hair emphasized her dark eyes and high cheekbones, making her stunning. Why had his fatigued eyes instantly come back to life?

His frown deepened. Who was she and what did she want? He then wondered if she was Nyla Roker, Karl’s fiancée. Sheppard had told him earlier that day to expect her call. It seemed she had called Shep to get Locke’s number, wanting to know where Karl was. Did she think showing up here instead of calling meant anything? It didn’t. He had no intention of telling her Karl’s location. Karl might have a reason to trust her, but he didn’t. And until he thoroughly vetted her, he wouldn’t.

Besides, according to Shep, Karl had given his fiancée orders to go into hiding until further notice. Damn. He hoped she wasn’t one of those women who did whatever she wanted without giving thought to the consequences. If she was, that could jeopardize Karl’s case.

The thought of that angered him. “Who is it?” he all but barked.

The woman hesitated slightly before answering. “Hollis Calloway.”

Locke lifted a brow. Who in the hell was Hollis Calloway? There was only one way to find out. After placing his gun behind a plant on a table in his foyer, he opened the door.

CHAPTER 3

Hollis thought Locke Dangerfield looked even better in person. He stood before her wearing a pair of slacks and a tan colored buttoned-up shirt that had the top two buttons undone, revealing a hairy chest. Why did the thought that she liked men with hair on their chests enter into her mind? And why did she like that he was tall, probably around six’ two. She was here for reasons that had nothing to do with his looks, height, or appearance.

“May I help you…Ms. Calloway?”

His question was a good one. It had taken her four days to finally decide to come here. Even now, she still wasn’t sure why she was here, other than something about this particular case had called out to her. Had kept her up at night and made her eat less during the day.

It had taken her a while to accept she was no longer an FBI agent. Someone who could knock on a door, identify herself, and expect cooperation. These days she didn’t have that authority. Nobody had to let her inside if they didn’t want to do so, and from the annoyed look on Locke Dangerfield’s face, he didn’t want to. She was determined to change that.

“Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, but I believe I can be of assistance to you, Mr. Dangerfield,” she said, handing him her business card.

He accepted it and took the time to study it. Then he looked back at her, his dark eyes sharp. “FBI agent turned private investigator. Is there a reason for that?”

Yes, there was a reason, and instead of giving him the one she suspected, she decided to go with the one she had been given. “Yes, DOGE.”

She knew that response would be sufficient. Unless someone had been living under a rock for the past couple of years, everyone knew the Department of Government Efficiency had come in and slashed numerous government jobs, not just within the Department of Justice. Budget cuts heavily impacted several other federal agencies and departments, putting hundreds of long-time employees out of work. Regardless of seniority or job performance.

Locke Dangerfield nodded. “I have my own investigative team, Ms. Calloway.”

“That might be true, but do any of them have a ten-year background with the FBI, which can be vital to your case? Especially when it appears, from what I read, that your client might have been set up.”

Hollis knew she had him thinking, and he was studying her business card again. He still hadn’t let her inside, and she hoped he would, so she could sell not only herself but also all the years of experience and viable skills that came with her.

She released a deep sigh when he stepped aside and said, “You’ve piqued my interest, but I make no promises.”

“Fair enough.” She then entered the house.

***

Locke couldn’t believe he was allowing Hollis Calloway any of his time, mainly because he didn’t particularly care for members of law enforcement. Especially FBI agents. Even former ones. He was an ex-con and would never forget how he became one.

He was eighteen, and it had been less than a month after graduation. He was all set to go to college with a scholarship to Hampton University in Virginia. He had worked hard for that scholarship since the single mother who had raised him hadn’t been able to send him to college. One night, at the suggestion of one of his friends, who hadn’t been lucky enough to get a scholarship, he went joyriding. Unknown to him, his friend was meeting up with gang members under the watchful eye of federal agents. The FBI surveillance team moved in immediately, and the local police made the arrests because the underlying crimes violated state laws more than federal ones.

Locke had gotten five years; his friend and the gang members got ten. Because Locke’s record was clean and he hadn’t even gotten out of the car, the attorney who had been hired to represent him had proven he was not there for the meeting. One of the federal agents swore that he had seen Locke at one of the gang’s earlier meetings and pinpointed the date. That proved inaccurate when it was shown that Locke had been out of town visiting his grandmother in South Carolina the night the FBI agent claimed to have seen him.

For that reason, Locke disliked federal agents. They never cared to verify his whereabouts that weekend; they had already decided he was guilty and wanted him behind bars for ten years like the others. Although he only got five years, going to jail had ruined everything for him, especially his scholarship to college.

“Please have a seat,” he offered the woman. Locke tried not to notice how much better she looked indoors. He could clearly see the smoothness of her skin and the perfection of her features. She was stunning, and whatever cologne she wore smelled nice.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting down on the sofa.

He moved to sit in the chair across from her and wished like hell he hadn’t noticed her legs. Why did they have to be so shapely? “I think your client was set up,” she said, claiming his full attention.

Locke didn’t say anything since he had reached that conclusion on his own. “And?”

“And I worked on a case where I exposed FBI agents doing something similar.”