“No problem.” Brigid tugged the paper plate toward her keyboard. “I like her. A lot.” Which was the truth.

Malcolm lifted one dark eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I really do.” Brigid took a bite, and flavor exploded on her tongue. She chewed and swallowed. “What are we, girlfriends now?”

Malcolm snorted and extended his muscled arms to stretch. “What’s the deal, Bridge?”

The sweet new nickname warmed her throughout, but she knew the guy wouldn’t let it go until she confessed all. “It’s just that Nari’s always so put together, you know? Pressed clothes, perfectly fit, her hair smooth and glossy.”

Malcolm blinked. “So?”

“So, I knew you wouldn’t get it.” For some reason, he’d always been easy to talk to. The fact that he was an ex-cop and she an ex-con just made the situation more interesting.

“If you want to be put together like that, then do it.” He reached for one of her tacos and bit into it.

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. Her mom had tried everything to get Brigid to like dresses and dolls, but she’d been happy out with the horses and hay. A farm girl through and through, until she’d discovered computers.

Malcolm grinned. “Hey. Take it from somebody who was undercover for two years. You can become anybody you want. Or, you can decide that you don’t like to shop and iron and just be you.” He stood and tapped the top of her head. “I like the you that you are.” Then he disappeared.

She turned back to her computers, her chest warming. How odd was it that a wounded and scarred ex-cop who ranked around ten on the dangerous scale had become her best friend? Smiling, she reached for the last taco.

* * *

After a day reading through the copy of Sean Banaghan’s evidence journal, Raider’s temples ached and his eyes burned. He needed a decent night’s sleep with no pain or drugs. He sat at the far end of the conference table from Angus, who’d kicked his head back and gone to sleep about an hour earlier. His light snoring competed with Roscoe’s snores in the far corner. Every once in a while, one of them would let out a whimper.

Wolfe loped inside, munching on a Rice Krispies treat left by Malcolm. “Nari had a date and Malcolm walked her out. Brigid said she’ll be ready to give a report in just a second.” He pulled out a seat.

Brigid followed, her laptop in one hand and a treat in the other. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face wan, and she’d tied her thick hair on top of her head. Dark red curls cascaded down on either side of her face, giving her a fragile, feminine look. “Okay. I’m ready to talk. I found so much.” In contrast to her eyes, her voice was animated.