Page 47 of Flint's Battle

She gazed around the room when it fell silent, everyone staring at her as if they expected her to drop. Which seemed like a distinct possibility if they dragged this out much longer.

Hawk sighed. “We can do this later if it’s too much. Or Flint can relay everything if you need to lay down.”

“What Ineedis to know what’s going on. Because Blake obviously recognized the tat on the asshole who tried to kill me, and our guest is so wired, he’s practically vibrating.” She looked over at the guy. “What are you? CIA? Homeland Security? Because you’re definitely a federal agent and not one of the branches I usually work with.”

Hawk chuckled. “See, Porter? This is what we mean when we all tell you that you’ve just got the look. Emery’s probably still seeing double and yet, she has you pegged.”

The guy, Porter, huffed. “She didn’t actually guess my agency, which quite frankly is a bit insulting. What about me screams CIA?”

Emery nodded at him. “The gun holstered under your jacket.”

Porter cracked a smile. “At least you didn’t say it was my beady little eyes. And for the record, Detective McClane, it’s U.S. Deputy Marshal Adam Porter.”

U.S. Deputy Marshal?

Emery scanned the room, again, focusing on Blake and Kian. The way Blake shifted her weight on her feet as Kian put his arm around her started filling in all the missing pieces. Everything she’d noticed about the couple since Kian and his buddies had bought Ohana’s. The times Blake had flown Emery around as part of an investigation. She’d always suspected they were hiding something, but it hadn’t concerned her enough to go digging.

Until now.

The pale complexion. The increased breath. This was serious.

Flint and his team must have had similar thoughts because a couple of them cursed, toeing at the floor as they looked over at her and Flint. He didn’t say anything, but the arm across the back of her chair pressed harder against her. As if he was bracing for the inevitable impact.

Emery focused on Porter, praying she was wrong but aware her guess was the only one that made sense. “Well, crap. Please tell me I didn’t just blow Blake’s WITSEC cover.”

Porter didn’t even twitch, staring at her as if she’d spoken in a different language. “What makes you think Blake’s in WITSEC and not just undercover?”

“Are we seriously going to do this? If she was undercover, she would have leveled with me in the hospital. Because the woman’s got more honor than most. The fact she didn’t means it’s door number two.”

“For god’s sake, let’s just cut through the bullshit. No, Emery, you didn’t blow Blake’s cover. But that’s not what this is about.” Milligan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against a desk. “And I told you Emery would figure it out, Porter.”

Porter huffed. “Which is why you were supposed to keep her away from anything that could remotely lead back to my investigation.”

“No one knew these two cases were connected until Blake called you twenty minutes ago.”

“Given the history of my luck on this island, maybe we should have guessed.” Porter focused on her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve walked into?”

Emery merely stared at the man. “Isn’t that why we’re here? So you can tell me?”

“I’d like to hear what you know, first.”

“Other than there’s a cartel running guns on my island, not much. But then, I’ve been a bit busy having mafia assholes try to kill me. Your turn.”

Porter ran his hand through his hair, looking as if he wanted to pull some of it out. “Are you familiar with the Russo family?”

Emery glanced at Blake, more pieces coming together. “That’s what this is about? That shit show that went down on Molokai a few months ago?”

Porter huffed then turned to Milligan. “She knows about Molokai, too?”

“You blew up a yacht.” Emery shook her head. “That doesn’t go unnoticed. So yeah, I know who Henry Russo is. What he did in Puerto Rico.”

Emery shifted her gaze to Blake. “I’m sorry about what happened to your teammates.”

Blake nodded. “Thanks. Me, too.”

“Teammates?” Flint glanced at Blake then over to Emery, eyes darting to one side for a few moments before he huffed. “That’s why you quoted part of the Coast Guard creed the other day. You’re an ex-officer.”

Bowie groaned. “God, now it all makes sense. I knew you were too skilled at water rescues.”

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