start on scanning traffic cameras on all routes out of Hopeton. Although they could still be local, until we learn otherwise, we should assume they’re going to bounce Roxanne state to state like they did Fien the first few months.”
Air whizzes out of Rocco’s nose as he scrubs at the cropped beard on his chin. “With the van being dumped, what are we looking for?”
The panic roaring through my veins is heard in my reply. “Anything and everything. A snippet of red hair, a pricy car rolling down a dirt road… any suspicious activity.”
Rocco’s chin scarcely moves an inch when a husky voice cuts him off. “They headed south a couple of hours ago. Dark blue sedan. I got a partial plate.”
I want to both kill and kiss Ellie. Kill her for holding back information that would have been useful hours ago, but kiss her for finally stepping up to the plate with something useful. “How many occupants?”
“One.” After standing to her feet, she dusts off the dirt on her skirt-covered backside before digging a notepad out of the breast pocket of her jacket. Seeing her in a full agent get-up is shocking. I only ever saw her in ripped denim shorts, midriff tops, and her stark blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun. She was cruisy and laid-back, the very opposite of any agent I’ve ever met. “Approximately six-three, two hundred and sixty pounds. Had a cross tattoo above his—”
“Left eyebrow,” interrupts a voice from the right, a stern, still unhinged voice.
After clambering over several mangled pieces of a computer, Smith jumps down from his van and re-enters the warehouse. He’s still pissed. His scent is very telling, much less the tight grip he has on a single piece of paper. It almost rips when he thrusts it into my chest with no intention of letting it go.
After forcefully removing it from his grasp, I ask, “Who is he?”
“A military operative from Sicily,” Ellie answers on Smith’s behalf. “The Bureau has been tracking him for a while. This is the first sighting we’ve had in years. Where did you get it?” Her last question isn’t for me. It’s for Smith.
Ellie chokes on her spit when Smith answers, “From your laptop.”
“You hacked into my computer?” Her question is barely heard over Rocco’s laugh. He loves watching couples go to war. Why do you think he’s been such a thorn in my ass the past nine weeks? “That’s classified information.”
Smith rakes his teeth over his bottom lip in an effort to half his smile. “Then you should have changed your password.”
“But that wouldn’t have stopped you, would it?” Ellie responds through a tight jaw.
When she attempts to snatch the document out of my hand, I hold it out of her reach. It isn’t hard considering she’s a short-ass. “You can finish your lovers’ squabble later. For now, tell me how you don’t know who he is if this was found on your computer?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
Ellie folds her arms in front of her chest to match the snappiness of Smith’s question before replying, “I don’t know how it got there. This is the first time I’ve seen an image of him.”
A scoff vibrates Smith’s lips. “It was sitting in a file on your desktop, plain as day for all to see.”
“That doesn’t mean I placed it there,” Ellie fires back, her voice as vicious as Smith’s glare.
“Puh-leaze. You’re running that excuse again? I don’t know how I got there. I just woke up in his bed.”
Fighting not to tear my hair out, I step between the feuding couple. “Enough.”
They continue arguing until the ricochet of a gun being fired shuts their mouths as quickly as it widens their pupils.
“I said enough! Fuck me, you two are worse than…” I freeze, out of the loop on any couple, either famous or an everyday regular couple.
Rocco doesn’t face the same dilemma. “As Roxie and you?” He backhands Clover’s chest, doubling the smirk he’s struggling to hold back. “It’s the make-up sex. It makes couples crazy.”
“Kind of like a golden pussy?” Clover questions with an arched brow.
“Exactly,” Rocco answers, completely ignoring my wrathful glare warning him not to.
He doesn’t ignore my second directive. The bullet that whizzes through the minute gap between his and Clover’s head is as effective as the one I fired into the air. “Get your heads into the fucking game. Roxanne’s life is depending on it.”
As Rocco’s quiet apology trickles into my ears, I shift my focus