it. And make sure the microphone isn’t connected. People can hear you.”
“Speaking of walking right in,” Ridge said. “Your window locks could use some help.”
Bob nodded, overwhelmed.
Breck bounded into the room with a buttered slice of Italian bread. When he’d arrived, he’d headed directly to the kitchen. He was probably trying to wrangle some food out of Aunt Momo. He’d probably succeed. When I’d popped my head in, I’d heard him and Aunt Momo arguing over which one of the Real Housewives franchises was the best.
Breck had argued strenuously for the Real Housewives of Atlanta being the best of the franchise. Momo was standing firm with her opinion that Real Housewives of New York deserved the crown.
“Maybe we need to define best,” Breck had said, waving the knife he was using to slice bread in her direction. “Do we judge it on interpersonal drama? Aesthetics? Number of divorces? Size of jewelry slash hair?”
“By that criteria, Dallas is the obvious winner and we know that can’t be right,” she said, putting a final layer of cheese on her lasagnas. No stranger to the appetites of growing boys, she’d doubled her normal amount of food. If I knew her, she’d already set aside containers for the leftovers she was planning on sending home with them. When I’d left, they’d still been debating.
“Aunt Momo said to tell everyone twenty minutes until dinner,” Breck announced.
“Glad to see you’re bonding with my mother,” Carson said dryly.
Ridge waved his bread at him. “You’re just jealous because she gave me the heel.”
“It is the best part,” I said.
“Lucky for you, she said to tell you she saved one for both of you,” he said.
“Perfect,” Wesley said. “We can eat while we watch. Something smells delicious.”
“Lasagna,” Breck said reverently. “And fresh bread.”
Carson groaned happily. “My mom’s lasagna is the best.”
Twenty minutes later we were scattered around the large family room, all food and drink as far removed from Wesley’s equipment as it could be. On the television was what Wesley assured us was the FBI’s surveillance feed. Right now, it looked like blank screens with code flashing across the bottom.
A second monitor set up on a table that had previously held houseplants displayed the feed from video cameras at the other locations scheduled to be hit at the same time. Leo explained that the raids were timed to happen at the same time to avoiding anyone sending out warnings to the other suspects. He was leaning against the wide doorway into the living room, his hands wedged into his pockets, a grim look on his face. “You don’t want to give them time to hide or destroy evidence,” he said.
“What kind of evidence do you expect to find?” I asked him.
“Well, in the case of Ryan’s office, they’re expecting to find a bomb.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. His mouth was set in a tight line.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Now I was alarmed. “They won’t find one, right? You guys didn’t plant anything like that, did you?”
“God no,” he said immediately. “This is dangerous enough.”
“Dangerous?” I said rather loudly. Steele looked over and exchanged a rather loaded look with Leo. I stepped closer to Leo. “How dangerous?” I whispered harshly.
“Whenever you’re sending a group of heavily-armed men into a situation there’s a potential for something to go wrong,” he admitted.
“Something to go wrong like breaking a lamp or like getting the wrong house and shooting an innocent person?” I asked. Why hadn’t that even crossed my mind? Sending SWAT to someone’s house was no joke. Now I felt sick.
Ridge and Breck had broken into Ryan’s office and wired up the place last night. Now a monitor tethered to a large laptop cycled through three different views of Ryan’s office, the security camera feed from the front door, and a mirror of Ryan’s computer screen.
“Sure hope he doesn’t start surfing porn,” Steele said as he worked his way through his second helping of lasagna.
I felt like a stalker, but I couldn’t look away as Ryan moved from room to room. Wesley assured me there was sound, but he had it turned off for the moment.
The entire experience was surreal. How had this become my life?
“What should we do while we’re waiting?” Danny asked.
“Got any baby pictures of Carson, Mrs. Smallman?” Davis said with a grin.
“Gasp,” Breck said. “Brilliant.” He turned to Maureen with a pleading expression on his face. “Are there baby pictures? Please tell me there are pictures.”