Chapter Thirty-Three
Phoenix, Arizona, sprawled across the Sonoran Desert—a desert metropolis where February days hovered in the seventies, pleasantly balmy. In the summer, the city turned into a furnace, heat rising past one hundred degrees for days on end.
The morning after Albuquerque, Gia stood on the steps of the concrete and glass government building that housed Phoenix’s FBI field office. The sun warmed her skin, but it couldn’t chase away the chill of nerves.
The people waiting for her inside would decide her fate.
A hand pressed to her back.
“Ready?” Caleb’s lips brushed her hair. “Everything will be okay.”
She shut her eyes, absorbing his strength.
Last night, they’d slept in an FBI safe house with an agent posted in the living room. The men from Dìleas had been housed elsewhere, also under watch.
She’d spent the night in Caleb’s arms, wondering if it would be their last.
Her lashes lifted. It was time to own her choices—to tell the government everything. Every sordid detail of life with Vincente. Every moment of that horrible night on his yacht.
She would fight for her freedom.
For a life with Caleb.
“I’m ready. ” She stepped through the glass doors.
Inside, the blast of air-conditioning hit like an arctic wind, and she was grateful for the long-sleeved button-down and jeans she still wore from the day before.
After clearing security, their FBI escort led them to a waiting area lined with framed photographs of Phoenix and, at its center, the FBI seal and motto, Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity .
Caleb’s friends were already there.
Last night’s introductions had been brief. Now, after some sleep, she recalled what she’d learned.
Danny, the adrenaline junkie with shaggy hair and a love of muscle cars. He had an amusing fashion quirk—Hawaiian shirts in eye-searing colors and vintage bowling tops.
The dark-haired Scot, Lachlan. The founder of Dìleas. Handsome but intimidating, until he’d shown her a picture of his wife, Sophia. The love on his face had softened the edge of his ruthlessness.
Nathan—the giant. A harder-edged version of Thor. Terrifying until he’d smiled. His lazy Texas drawl and icy blue eyes had turned warm with humor. He’d ribbed his friends, shown her a picture of his fiancée, Emily, and offered an amused, “Welcome to the family.”
Family? The word lingered.
She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be a member of this circle of men and the women they loved.
Then there was Ryder—Caleb’s direct superior. Blue-eyed with wavy brown hair and a quiet reserve. Caleb had warned her not to compare him to Superman, despite the obvious resemblance to the British actor. He, too, had shown her a picture of his fiancée when she’d asked.
This was Caleb’s family.
Not by blood, but by brotherhood.
A brotherhood she couldn’t ask him to leave.
Even if the gov ernment absolved her, she likely had no job to return to on the rez. Not after the chaos she’d brought to their doorstep.
“Doctor Barone?” Special Agent Walton appeared in the doorway. “Come with me.”
Gia wiped sweaty palms on her jeans and stood. She’d waived her right to have a lawyer present—she didn’t want to delay the meeting. And she had nothing to hide. She was prepared to tell them everything.
“I’m going with her.” Caleb gripped her hand.
“Caleb,” Ryder warned.
“She’s not going alone.” Caleb’s jaw was tight, his chest out.
Walton stared, then sighed. “Fine. Assistant Director Caldwell can deal with you.”
He led them down the hall to a windowless conference room—stark and impersonal, with bare walls and a white-tiled drop ceiling. Four men and a woman sat around a long table in conservative suits, their ID badges clipped to pockets or lapels.
Caleb’s arm circled her waist.
A tall man with dark hair silvered at the temples rose.
He was the one in charge, she decided quickly. Even Caleb had straightened to attention.
“Doctor Barone, I’m Assistant Director Lucas Caldwell with the FBI,” he said.
He gestured to the others. “Special Agents Martinez and Lowell from the DEA’s Miami Division, Special Agent Mia Anderson, FBI, Phoenix Field Office, and Special Agent Zamora, DEA, Phoenix Division. You’ve already met Special Agent Walton.”
His sharp blue gaze locked on her. “We’d like to ask you some questions about Vincente Lopez Garcia and DEA Special Agent Cardenas.”
Chin lifted, sh e faced the agents in the room. “Vincente murdered Antonio Cardenas. Said he was a DEA spy. I witnessed it. That’s why I ran.”
Her tongue swiped over dry lips. “I know I should have gone to the police or DEA right away, but…I was afraid.”
Caldwell’s gaze shifted to Caleb. “You need to wait outside.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not happening.”
The Assistant Director didn’t blink. “You and your colleagues have official statements to give to Special Agent Walton about yesterday’s events.”
His voice lowered. “I pulled strings, son, with the Attorney General to have the US Marshal’s Office deputize Dìleas Security Agency personnel as federal agents. If I hadn’t, you’d all be facing federal charges.”
Gia’s breath hitched.
The risk Caleb and his friends had taken for her…
No one had ever done that before.
She blinked back sudden tears and touched Caldwell’s sleeve. “Thank you.”
His expression softened for the briefest moment before turning steely again. “Your meeting is down the hall, Sergeant Varella. Special Agent Walton will escort you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Gia promised Caleb, though her pulse hammered.
His gold-flecked eyes met hers. He placed a swift, hard kiss on her lips. “I’ll be right outside when you’re done, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
With one last look leveled at Assistant Director Caldwell, Caleb left.
Gia turned back to the government agents. Their badges gleamed under the ceiling lights, their expressions unreadable.
She drew a long breath. Held it.
Caldwell gestur ed to a chair. “Have a seat.”
Caleb followed Special Agent Walton to a second conference room, where Lachlan, Nathan, Ryder, and Danny were already waiting.
Danny slid a paper cup across the table. “Coffee?”
Nathan took a sip from his own and winced. “Gotta be a retired senior chief making this swill.”
Lachlan glanced up from his phone and addressed Agent Walton. “Mind giving us a few minutes, pal? I still have a business to run, and something needs my team’s immediate attention.”
“Immediate attention, huh?” The agent’s tone dripped with skepticism. But after a brief hesitation, he shoved back his chair. “Ten minutes.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Lachlan nodded to Nathan, who pulled out a palm-sized black box, pressed a button, and set it on the table.
“There,” Lachlan said, “now we can talk.”
He cast a pointed look at Caleb and Danny. “How many bodies need to be handled?”
Caleb stared into his coffee. “Before Albuquerque? Two. We’ll see how the Navajo Nation Police deal with it.”
And how his grandfather handled it with the police chief. The Diné didn’t like the Feds in their business.
But this hadn’t been Diné business.
He’d called his grandfather last night. Filled him in on what had happened in Albuquerque. That he and Gia were headed to Phoenix with the FBI. He ’d also checked in on Zach, who was due to be released from the hospital tomorrow.
Lachlan exhaled and rubbed his temple. “How many more bloody favors am I going to owe Lucas Caldwell? He already has naming rights to my firstborn.”
He gestured between Caleb and Danny. “Make sure your stories match with everyone who was there, just in case.”
Caleb nodded. Since they were all together, he figured now was the time to bring up a decision he’d made.
He just wasn’t sure how.
“I want to continue working at Dìleas,” he began.
“But?” Lachlan asked. He and Ryder shared a look.
“I’m staying in northern Arizona. At least for now.” Caleb scrubbed a hand along his jaw. He met the eyes of each man at the table. “This is where I need to be.”
Silence stretched, ratcheting up tension at the base of his skull.
Lachlan and Ryder held another wordless exchange—battle-hardened shorthand from their SAS days.
Caleb shifted. If they cut him loose, it would hurt. But Gia came first. He’d figure something out. Maybe he’d join the Navajo Nation Police, work alongside Zach.
Finally, Ryder spoke. “As long as you’re willing to travel for assignments, I don’t see why it matters where you call home, mate. Actually,” he glanced at Lachlan, “we could talk with Gia and your grandfather about using the clinic for medical visits that need…discretion.”
Amusement flickered in his bright blue eyes. “You wouldn’t be the first in this firm to rearrange your life for a woman.”
“Christ,” Lachlan groaned. “Here we go again. Another one of us making a bloody fool of himself.”
“You started it,” Nathan drawled.
“Whatever thi s virus is, keep it to yourselves.” Danny mock shuddered. “I like my freedom.”
“Don’t say that too loudly,” Nathan warned. “Karma’s listening.”
Relief loosened the knot in Caleb’s chest. “Thanks.”
A knock at the door.
Nathan pocketed the audio jammer as Special Agent Walton poked his head in.
“Your ten minutes are up.”
After giving their statements, Walton dismissed them. “You’re free to return home. Assistant Director Caldwell knows where to find you if we need anything else.”
Fortunately for Caleb and Danny, Walton focused his questions on everything that happened after they landed in Albuquerque and postponed any inquiry into events on the rez until he could coordinate with Navajo Nation authorities.
Caleb checked his watch. Over two hours had passed since Gia went in.
He saw his teammates off as they left for the airport, then resumed pacing the waiting room, his gut twisting with thoughts of what Gia must be enduring—reliving the DEA agent’s murder, recounting her time with Vincente Lopez Garcia.
The Feds would throw everything at her, press her for every detail they could use against Espina Negra.