Page 93 of Every Which Way

Unlike what Bradley had done, taking his life, Garnet hadn’t chosen hope because she’d had none left in this life. What she’d done was make a calculated decision to use her death to deal a blow to these people. Even in a small way.

The agent stood over her.

“I’ll need your card. And your badge number.” She turned her head to the side and spat on the ground.

“Good luck with that, considering I discovered you aiding the escape of the subject of a federal warrant.”

“Senator Woodford? Who knew?” She would’ve guessed, but that wasn’t the point. Playing dumb meant he’d say more because explaining things to her proved he was smarter than her. “I thought he was such a nice guy. One of those family values politicians you’d never suspect.”

Kind of like the way this agent would never suspect that his boss’s boss was likely friends with her fiancé, if not an associate of his. She was going to enjoy him finding out that arresting her and blaming her for what he was into wouldn’t go far.

Was he really just going to stand there?

Seemed like he was waiting for something, or someone.

“You gonna call the fire department? That blaze could get out of hand.” And her backside was starting to get wet on the grass.

He unclipped his phone from the side of his belt and looked at the screen. “Okay, let’s go.”

She shifted her weight on her legs and rocked to standing without assistance. Not just because she didn’t want him to touch her, but also because she had to know she could get up without the use of her hands. “Lead the way.”

He snorted and grabbed her arm.

“Gravel and bare feet do not mix.”

He didn’t listen. He walked her across it anyway to the stone steps where she had to rub the soles of her feet on the worn stone to dislodge the rocks embedded in her skin. “Quit messing around.”

“I’m also eager for you to present me to your superior. It’ll be the highlight of my week. But we should do it out front since the building is on fire.” She spotted a couple of cops in the wide entryway just inside the door. “Hey, Sarge! The wine cellar downstairs is on fire. We probably need fire and EMS unless they’re on their way.”

The agent looked at her, suspicion dawning, hopefully.

“Hey, Detective Davis.” That was Langford’s partner. “How are you? Is Naomi here?”

Davis frowned. “Special Agent, why is that woman in custody?”

“Caught her aiding the escape of some fugitives.”

Kenna lifted her brows. “Downstairs is on fire. We need to get everyone out.”

The agent tugged her along, not willing to stop. “She probably set the fire as well, just to confuse us. She allowed the senator and a few others to run for it across the lawn.”

They moved through the archway into a smaller sitting room.

She spotted a couple of state police and nodded. “Guys. How are you?”

The agent said, “Shut up.”

“Right. Right. Supposed to be silent. I remember now. I’ll shut up.”

He tugged on her arm and walked her into the ballroom with no shoes on her feet and dirt on her face. Probably grass in her hair, not to mention the smoke smell from fleeing the cellar while the flames licked across the floor. Thankfully, she hadn’t been burned. That hurt even when it was a tiny singe from the oven.

A collection of agents and officers huddled in the middle by the front door. Rounding people up. Interviewing guests and taking statements.

“Hey, Miller!” she called out as loud as she could, drawing as much attention as possible.

“Shut up!” He pulled on her arm,hard.

She cried out because it hurt. “Someone, pull the fire alarm. The cellar is ablaze.” She breathed through the pain in her arms. “Miller.”

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