Page 22 of Distress Signal
“Wait…Reagan?” West asked at full volume, breaking the trance I’d found myself in. “Like one-night-stand, spun-you-out-for-a-minute Reagan?”
I smiled sheepishly when she blinked in surprise, but I wasn’t embarrassed.
Reagan had marked me in a way that lasted a hell of a lot longer than the scratches she’d left down my back.
“Yes, cocksucker,” I said to my twin, punching him in the arm. “ThatReagan.”
“What’re you—” Crew started to ask, then stopped himself when realization struck. He glanced wide-eyed between me and Reagan, and it suddenly dawned on me as well.
Oh, fuck.
Lainey Lindsey was Reagan’s sister.
“Fuck, Reagan,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Reagan nodded, mouth flattening and eyes blinking rapidly as though fighting off tears.
“Thank you. You guys were at the scene?”
“Yeah, we?—”
“We can do all this later,” Lane said, cutting me off. “Right now, Miss Lindsey needs to identify her sister.”
West cursed.
All the blood drained from Reagan’s face, skin instantly losing its healthy glow, replaced by an almost sickly paleness, and her entire body tensed with obvious dread.
“Okay, right,” I said, awkwardly cupping the back of my neck and averting my gaze. God, this was fucking uncomfortable. “We can catch up later then? If you want to, of course.”
Reagan didn’t answer, and I braved looking at her.
When our eyes locked again, that same spark I’d experiencedall those years ago flared to life once more, back like it never left. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe the time and distance had only banked it until it dimmed to a glowing coal.
Now, being together again seemed to breathe new life into it, reigniting the flames.
“I…” she started. “I don’t know how long I’ll be around.”
“Sure, of course.”
I tried—and likely failed—to hide my disappointment.
Oblivious to the tension between me and Reagan—or willfully ignorant—Lane called for one of his deputies, and Johns appeared from around the corner.
“Yeah, boss?” he asked, eyeing us all warily.
“Take statements from Burns, Childers, and Tuck, will you?”
Johns nodded, then jerked his chin at Crew, asking, “What about…that one?”
Crew took a menacing step toward the deputy, but West threw out an arm, barring his path.
There was no love lost between Crew and Johns. Their animosity dated all the way back to high school, when Crew hadn’t exactly been the best guy, and Johns took every opportunity to remind him of that fact. Things had only gotten worse after Crew punched the deputy in the face at an incident scene last summer.
Ignoring Johns’ comment, he said to us, “Head to my office. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Crew and West ambled off, muttering about something too low for me to hear, but I lingered, eyes on Reagan.
With a final smile at her that was surely more of a grimace, I turned to follow my brothers.
