“Don’t wait too long, we had to sign up for the ballroom a year in advance. Me, I can’t wait. August 31, back in L.A. It’s gonna be off the hook. You and Jake should come.”

Rodriguez sounded excited, and Kelly guessed that “off the hook” was a good thing. She shifted in her seat. “So what are they saying about me?”

“Ah, I was just trying to get under your skin, chica.” Rodriguez turned his attention back to the chips.

Kelly was about to respond when a familiar pickup appeared, rising and falling with the ruts in the road. It pulled into the lot in front of the warehouse.

Rodriguez elbowed her. “You were right.”

“Damn straight I was. And you’re out fifty dollars.” She glanced at her watch: 11:59 a.m., right under the wire.

“How do you want to handle this?”

“Neither of them was carrying before, but that doesn’t mean anything. I say we get them away from the truck, where they might have a shotgun. We know there aren’t any weapons in the front of the warehouse. So after they go inside, we hit them hard and fast.”

“Sounds good, boss.” Rodriguez nodded.

Kelly looked him over. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I don’t feel as bad as I look. Which is rare, usually it’s the other way around.”

Kelly decided they’d have to chance it. Jethro, the taller cowboy, was headed toward the door, Jim fast on his heels. “Let’s go, quick and quiet. I don’t want them barricading themselves inside with hostages.”

Kelly got out of the car and bent double, staying low to the ground. She crossed the parking lot in front of the warehouse with long strides, gun drawn. As she got closer she overheard snippets of conversation, something about the Rangers’ chances this season. Jethro was sorting through a key ring. Their backs were still to her. The sand muffled her footsteps and she steered clear of the gravel patches dotting the lot.

The door opened and Jethro stepped inside. Kelly waited until Jim had followed, then bolted up the stairs, catching the door as it was about to close. She glanced over her shoulder. Rodriguez was right behind her, eyes wide with exhilaration. She nodded at him, jerked open the door and slipped inside.

The cowboys sensed them and spun. Jethro darted a hand toward his belt and Kelly yelled, “FBI! Hands where I can see them!”

Jethro’s hand stalled its descent. She could see him deliberating, and took three quick strides forward with the muzzle leveled at his chest. “I’d prefer to have you alive,” she said, “but it’s your choice.”

His brother Jim already had his hands in the air. Jethro glanced at him, then slowly followed suit.

“On the ground, nice and slow,” Kelly said.

“This is bullshit,” Jim spat. “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Shush, Jim,” Jethro said warningly.

“You kidding? Doesn’t even matter, bitch. No one in this town is gonna charge us. You seriously think Luke’ll put us behind bars? Hell, the folks around here think we deserve a medal, and they don’t know the half of…”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Jethro growled.

“I’m not calling your buddy Rowe,” Kelly said, digging a knee into Jethro’s back as she fastened handcuffs around his wrists. “What we’ve got here is a federal violation.”

“Fuck you,” Jim said, kicking his legs at Rodriguez, who was bending to cuff him. “I don’t want you touching me.”

Kelly and Rodriguez exchanged a glance.

“Don’t make me add assaulting a federal officer, that’s another twenty-five years,” Kelly said.

Rodriguez settled into a squat, hands clasped in front of him. “So, boys. How long you been coyotes?”

Jim snorted. “We’re not fucking coyotes, you stupid spic.”

Jethro snapped out his leg, kicking him hard in the shin. Jim yelped, then fell silent.

“Your brother has a lot to say,” Rodriguez remarked. Kelly heard the undercurrent in his voice and knew the slur had gotten to him. “How ’bout you? You think I’m a dirty wetback?”

“Jethro Henderson. Colonel. TX- 47928878.”

“What?” Kelly asked, puzzled.

“Jethro Henderson. Colonel. TX- 47928878.”

His brother started chanting as well, changing name, rank and number, speaking with a slight lisp. Kelly and Rodriguez exchanged a look.

“Déjà vu, huh, Jones?” he said.

Jake clicked open his phone as he walked to the café on the corner. It was blazing hot outside, well over a hundred degrees. Hard to believe it was already July. He’d expected them to be married by now, and maybe even pregnant. Since he and Kelly were both older and didn’t have much family, he’d figured they’d go to the courthouse and exchange vows there. Maybe they still would, he thought. Maybe this time apart had helped Kelly clarify what she was feeling, persuading her that it was time for them to move forward. Not that he was counting on that.

He dialed her number and got voice mail again. No missed calls, either, just a text saying she was following a lead and would call when she could. Jake debated leaving a message, then texted back okay, and shut the phone.

While Jake waited for his order to be filled he scanned the baked goods. Nothing looked appetizing, but his stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since a mealy cafeteria sandwich the night before. He got three chicken wraps, figuring Syd would be starving when she woke up.

On the walk back he reviewed his last conversation with Kelly, and the reprobation in her voice. He knew they had different philosophies about how to work a case, and that if she joined The Longhorn Group that might become an issue. It could even end up widening the schism between them. But what was the alternative? Kelly had been miserable these past few months, conflicted about continuing with the Bureau. And even if she stayed there, she wasn’t the type to settle happily into a desk job. She was smart and talented, she could probably do well at any career she set her mind to. But once you’d worked in the field, days spent sending faxes and filing memos were soul-crushing.

If they didn’t at least end up in the same city soon, the distance between them would become far more than a physical obstacle. He was losing her, slowly but steadily, and had been even before the proposal. In all honesty, he was no longer sure that was such a bad thing.

He balanced the coffee and food in one hand while awkwardly opening the door to Randall’s apartment with the other. Jake cursed slightly as liquid sloshed out of the top, scalding him. He glanced up to find Syd smiling. She had stripped down to a camisole and panties, sky-blue against her tan skin.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

He started to speak, then the bag shifted and he lunged awkwardly to grab it, spilling more coffee.

“Here, let me help you,” she said. Her hand lingered on his as she took the bag. She strolled to the kitchen, set it on a counter and bent to dig a dishcloth out of a drawer. She handed it to him, eyes fixed on his.

Jake wiped his hands, which were drenched with more than coffee. After a minute he said, “I would have gotten you a latte, but figured you’d be asleep.”

“You’re a sweet guy, Jake.”

“Yeah, well-” He cleared his throat. “Any word from your friend?”

“Not yet.” She took a step closer. “So we’ve got some time to kill.”

Jake fumbled in his pocket for his phone and checked the screen.

Syd frowned. “I didn’t hear it ring.”

“It didn’t but I-I’m expecting a call.” Jesus, he was actually stuttering. When did he become such a moron? But then, he used to know exactly what to do in a situation like this. A few years ago he would have swept Syd into the bedroom the minute he saw what amounted to an open invitation.

“I’ve still got so much adrenaline in my system,” Syd said, holding up her hand. Jake watched it hover in the air a foot from him. “Shaky. Not sure if I’ll be able to sleep unless…”