“Jane?” He blinked in surprise. “I thought you were with your sister.”
“We split up so Ryan and I could follow the man who had attacked Marco.”
Peter’s sharp gaze locked in on her. “And?”
“He got away,” she said with a sour face. “But I found this.” She gave him the key. “I thought maybe it meant something together with the other evidence, or maybe there’s a fingerprint or something.”
Peter turned the baggie in his fingers, then peered at the crowd in the hall. “Hey, Julian, come over here for a second.”
A dark-haired young man joined them, giving Jane a friendly smile. She hadn’t seen him before, and based on his formal clothes, she guessed he was from the forensic team.
“This was found tonight,” Peter said, showing him the key. “You think it could be helpful?”
“How was it found?” Julian’s dark eyes focused on Jane as he took it.
She shrugged. “In a puddle. It was raining.”
He frowned and left the room without another word. Only a few seconds passed before he returned. “It’s useless—unless you know where to find the lock,” he added with a wink.
Jane glowered at him. “I’ll let you know if I do.” She snatched the key from his hand.
“Jane?” Peter called as she headed to the exit.
“Yes?”
“Good job. Any lead we can find is important right now.”
Her lips curled in a whisper of a smile. “I know.”
Chapter 7
Dawn broke before Pain was finally dismissed.
The warehouse was being examined, the report written, Chad asleep, and Marco nowhere to be found. She’d thought by now he’d be drunk and tired enough to come back home, so she went to check the roof for the third time.
She turned out right.
Despite the nasty weather, he was crouching on the edge, right in the middle, as far from the two guards as possible. The rain and wind had stopped, but it was still the coldest time of night, and Marco’s slouched form was wrapped in that big parka of his.
She crouched beside him, shivering in her gear. The sky had lightened on the horizon, the sun not quite reaching them yet. She cast a sideways glance at him. He was staring off into the distance, his face bitter.
Silence lingered. A whole night of worrying about him, and now she had no idea what to say.
Marco moved his shoulders, pulling the coat tighter. “Did you get the guy who jumped me?”
“Nope. Marcus.”
He shook his head, sniffing. “It’s my mother, she never liked Marcus. Martin insisted on the name. I guess I wanted to change something when I quit, but I didn’t want a new name or anything.”
“I like Marco better too,” she said with a lopsided shrug.
This wrung a wry smile from him, which quickly turned into an irritated grimace. “Stop pretending like you don’t know what happened. It’s been five years. I thought you’d be tired of it by now.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“I know you’ve been to my sister’s house.”
Her cheeks burned, and she drew a long, chill breath. “How?”
“Because I followed you there, all right? So just stop. There’s nothing to talk about.” He turned away, his gaze fixed on the sleeping city.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to leave headquarters.”
“I also wasn’t supposed to get drunk and high every night.” He dropped his voice when one of the guards turned to stare at them. “I knew you were pissed at me, and you found out about the Eagles somehow. They’d never talk to you, so you went to my sister, spent ten minutes with her and left. The only thing I don’t know is why you didn’t use it to drive me out of here.”
“It was five minutes, not ten,” she protested in a harsh whisper. “You talk like you don’t know your own sister at all. Alecia told me you quit without even taking your things with you; then she questioned me about your wellbeing and kicked me out.” Marco snorted. “She saw my broken arm and said she’d break the other one if I let you get in trouble because of your drinking.”
“Yeah, and you listened to her,” he scoffed.
“Have you met your sister? She’s like Yonce on steroids, and I was sixteen, by the way.”
“Whatever.” He waved her off.
When he didn’t say anything for a minute, she prodded, “So, now that you know what I know, can you tell me what I don’t know?” She cocked an eyebrow when he turned to look at her.
His lips twitched, holding back a smile. “Has anyone ever told you what a raging pain in the ass you are?”
“Everyone.” She nodded. “But I always have something to offer…” She winked, reaching into her jacket for a flask full of gin.
Marco’s eyes sparkled. “This is you looking out for me and my drinking problem?”
“It’s cold,” she said with a shrug, and handed him the flask.
“Damn right. Archie’s was closed.”
“It’s not the only Ghosts’ bar in town.”
“It’s the only bar where no one will try to kill me,” he said with a wicked grin, and swigged from the flask.
“Makes sense, considering how we found you in the first place. Why were you drinking that night, anyway?”
Marco handed her the flask. “We had a fight, Martin and I. You saw him tonight—you can imagine what it was like. Our disagreements had been piling up for years. But that night…” He scowled, turning to her. “How much do you know about the Black Eagles?”
“Just the kind of work they do. The full-military-operation kind. No bodyguard jobs, creative undercover circus like we do sometimes. Suicidal missions, extreme case contracts.”
Marco nodded. “That’s right. But my problem was their
