Page 50 of The B-Team

The women shared another look, and Jen squirmed a little. Belinda found herself holding her breath.

“If you want blackmail material,” Jen said, “you’re looking at the wrong Fitzwater.”

Ryan sat forward. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just gossip and rumors,” Delia said. “We don’t know for sure.”

“All I’ve seen is Garrison doing favors for him. Nothing big, you understand, but there are the rumors…” Jen shifted uncomfortably.

“I promise we won’t go on a witch hunt based on rumors,” Belinda said. “We’re just trying to figure out what’s happening here, and anything you can tell us would help.”

Jen looked at Belinda and sighed. “It’s his cousin. He’s the one the family protects the most. They’ve always had high hopes that he’ll elevate the family name, and now, with his upcoming wedding, it seems those hopes will be realized. If Garrison’s doing anything untoward, it will be to protect his younger cousin.”

“With the Fitzwaters,” Delia said, “reputation is everything, and his cousin is the golden boy.”

“Unfortunately, Darian is the pinnacle of Fitzwater evolution,” Jen said. “Smart, entitled, and pretty. I’m sure he’ll go far.” Her tone was unimpressed.

Belinda squeezed Jen’s arm. “I know that wasn’t easy. Thank you.”

Jen pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and climbed off the sofa. “Why don’t we see about moving you up my waiting list before you go?”

Delight rushed through Belinda, and it must have shown on her face because Jen beamed at her.

“Let’s go to my workroom while the boys clean up,” Jen said.

“I’m not a boy.” Delia stood, a little wobbly on her feet. “I get to come with you.”

“Yes, you do.” Belinda took her arm to steady her as they walked back down the hallway.

Behind her, Ryan spoke softly into his phone. No doubt telling Julia that the person they needed to investigate was Darian Fitzwater.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I want to break free,” Logan MacDonald sang, doing a good impersonation of Freddie Mercury—even if he did say so himself. “God knows, God knows I want to break free.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Callum McKay grumbled, “I’m going to take off my leg and beat you to death with it.”

Callum sat on the tiled platform that filled one wall of their small cell. He didn’t seem happy. But then, Logan had known the man for mere hours, and he couldn’t imagine him ever looking happy.

“If you kill me with your leg,” Logan said reasonably, “they’ll take it as evidence, and you’ll have to hop to your interrogation. It’s hard to come across as a tough guy when you’re hopping around.”

Callum held up an index finger and thumb with a tiny space between them. “See this? That’s how much leeway you’ve got before I shut you up for good.”

Logan sat on the edge of the platform with a huff. “Are you always this grumpy?”

“I was perfectly fine until they tossed you in here. In fact, I was enjoying my solitude.”

Of course he was. “I don’t know why they didn’t just put me back in a cell with my brother. Maybe they got confused and thought we were related.” He considered the older Scottish man, with his rust-colored hair threaded with gray. Who knew what height he’d been before he lost his legs in the war, but Logan bet it was about six feet tall. Then there was the chiseled jaw and ice-cold eyes. He looked kind of familiar.

“We could be father and son,” Logan mused. “By any chance, did you donate sperm to a clinic in Glasgow about twenty-five years ago?”

Callum’s head turned an interesting shade of purple as he sputtered half words before regaining control of his ability to speak. “No, I bloody well didnae!”

“Oh well.” Logan shrugged. “It was worth asking. Guess the two of us just look extra Scottish. I sometimes wonder if Mum put that on her criteria at the sperm bank:Gimme a big guy with red hair and a penchant for tartan. It would explain so much.” He lowered his voice. “I guess we should debrief, right? You’re the Benson Security expert here. Should we share the information we’ve gathered so far?”

“I’ve never felt sorrier for anybody than I feel for your boss right now,” Callum said. “Three of you to deal with, plus Violet Lee and Abasi.” He shook his head. “It’s a miracle the woman’s still sane.”

“Rochelle’s tough in her own way. It’s just more low-key than your military approach. She tends to go for the ‘you’ve disappointed me’ tack.”