Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(113)

“Go away, Anya,” Heath whispered to the computer monitor, his body tensing.

She frowned and looked around the quiet street before pressing her face to the glass and cupping her eyes.

“It’s empty.” Heath punched up the camera feed from above the door, which he hadn’t wanted to use, just in case others were surveying the area. It’d let out a signal they’d find at some point. But now he had no choice.

She backed away from the window and read the card again.

Heath zoomed in on her face. Delicate bone structure, green eyes, pale skin, and dark red hair. Oh yeah. And a black eye and bruises down her neck. They had faded since he’d last seen her—the only time he’d ever met her—but they were still visible.

Seeing them again pricked his temper just like last time.

A black sedan pulled to the curb, and two men jumped out, spraying snow.

Fuck. He’d known they were still watching the building. Heath reached for a Glock on the desk and tucked it into his waistband. He was three blocks down from the detective agency and could be there in minutes.

If necessary.

He turned up the volume on the camera.

“Can I help you, miss?” The first guy had brown eyes and wavy dark hair. His smile was charming, and he walked like he could handle himself. A jacket covered his large frame, and a slight bulge showed at his waist.

Anya turned and took a step backward. “Um, I’m looking for the detective agency that was here last week.” Her voice was low and tentative.

The guy looked at the blank window. “I think they moved.”

She nodded, her gaze darting down the street. “The inside is empty.”

The other man, a shorter black guy with adult acne, gave her a frown. “Do you know the detectives?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Not really. But I heard they were well trained, and I need a detective.”

The first guy smiled again, seeming to relax back against his car while motioning his buddy to cool it. The guy was good. “I’ve heard excellent things about them, too. Who did you talk to about them?”

Anya frowned as if knowing something wasn’t quite right but unsure what. “Who are you?” Her chin lifted.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The guy laughed and dug out a badge holder to flip open. “U.S. Marshal D.J. Smithers. We’re trying to find the detectives in connection with a current case.”

Anya’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t known they worked with the FBI. I’m so glad. Do you have any idea where they’ve gone? Why they’ve left?”

Fuck. Heath groaned. The badge was a good one, but even through the camera he could see it was fake. Anya’s sister was FBI Special Agent Loretta Jackson, and she’d been kidnapped by a serial killer nearly five days ago.

Smithers didn’t miss a beat. “No, we don’t. In fact, we’re concerned about them. It looks like they’ve gotten caught up in a dangerous case with Colombian drug cartels, and we’re concerned for their safety.”

Colombian drug Cartels? Seriously? Who the hell was this guy? Heath groaned and fought the urge to palm-smack his own head.

Anya rushed for him, waving the card. “I need to find them as soon as possible. I’ll give you my information, and if you find them, please let me know.”

Smithers handed over his badge. “Do you remember the name of their agency or any of the detectives?”

Anya glanced at his badge and then handed it back. “Um, no. Sorry about that. I met one of them, but I don’t remember his name.”

Heath winced. Guess he hadn’t been that memorable. Of course, he’d only exchanged pleasantries with her before sitting down with Agent Jackson and exchanging information. Anya was supposed to be in protective custody by now, but with her sister taken, maybe that plan had been scrapped?

Smithers reached into his back pocket for a pen and handed it over with the card. “Write down your name and cell phone number.” His tone was perfectly authoritative and polite.

Who was this guy?

Anya nodded and quickly wrote before handing back the card.

Smithers tucked it into his pocket. “We’re investigating at the moment but would like to sit down with you later. Where are you staying?”

“At the Two Horse Motel just for the night,” Anya said.

Heath gave in to the desire and smacked his hand against his forehead. Of course the woman had no idea she was dealing with trained killers, and one did have a badge, but even so. Though she must be desperate to find her sister.

“Okay,” Smithers said. “Can we offer any assistance with your case? We’re happy to help.”

She faltered. “Maybe. How about we talk about it when we sit down? I’ll get my files in order.”

“Sounds good. We’ll be in touch later today.” With a reassuring nod, he moved back toward the car and the two men quickly drove away.

Heath sighed. Why hadn’t she mentioned the FBI or her sister missing? Perhaps Anya had sensed something wrong with the guys, since they definitely weren’t with any government. Today, anyway. They’d do a background run on Anya and then decide what to do with her—or come up with a plan to nab her. He couldn’t take the chance they’d want to question her more about the guy she couldn’t remember, considering it was him.