“Holy shit!” Danny’s voice rang down the hall as he exited the elevator. “What a mess.”

Martin grinned, shaking his head ruefully. Trust Danny to make a production of things.

He glanced up as the other man’s grinning face loomed over his desk space.

“Frisked sixteen times between the lobby and the office.”His dark brows bobbed suggestively. “Interesting experience!”

Martin laughed up at him. “And every pair of hands…” He paused helpfully.

Danny kissed his clustered fingers, eyes drooping in mock ecstasy. “Every pair of hands attached to a lovely, very attentive lady.”

“Yeah, right,” Martin mocked. “Wonder where they were when I ran the gauntlet? I seem to remember two or three decidedly uninterested and uninteresting thugs.”

“Ah, Martin. When ya got it, ya got it.”Danny reached across and nudged Martin’s shoulder. “We could discuss lessons, buddy. Can’t depend on boyish charm and the aura of that silver spoon for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll let you know when I get desperate enough.”

“Enough for what?” Samantha Spade dropped into the chair beside Martin’s desk.

“Enough to ask him how to pick up women.”

Her brows rose. “Danny?”She shook her head sadly. “Desperate, indeed.”

Danny tilted his chin upward, sniffing haughtily. “You poor things.Just jealous.”

Nose still elevated, he swaggered toward his own desk, then abruptly collapsed as his feet tangled in an unnoticed trash can.

Laughing, Martin turned back to his computer. Excessive security measures or not, he had plenty to do.

He half listened as Danny tried his story again on Viv, grinning as her clever tongue took the rest of the wind out of the New Yorker’s sails.

They’d all had a tough time getting into the building this morning. A potentially disastrous security breach the day before had everyone in an uproar. Security was practically nit-combing incoming agents’ hair.

He’d gotten well involved with his search into the more obscure aspects of the financial past of Albert Berring, their current missing person when his phone rang. Absently, he reached for the handset, attention still focused on his monitor.

“Fitzgerald.”

“Agent Fitzgerald.” He recognized the voice of one of the front desk Security officers. ”We’ve got a situation in Reception. You might want to get down here.”

“Me? I don’t have anything to do with building security.”

“I know. But trust me… you’re going to want to see this.”

Martin stared at the now-buzzing communication device.

“Hey, you all right, Fitz?”

He shrugged. “Fine, as far as I know, Danny. That was Security in Reception. They want me down there.”

“You? Why you?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Martin!”

They both turned at the sound of their superior’s voice. Malone was leaning out the glass door of his office.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“What’s going on downstairs? I just got a call…”

“Me, too. And I don’t know.”

Jack scowled. “Damnit, this better not be some kind of joke. We’ve got our hands full!”

As he shoved his door open and stalked toward the elevators, Martin and Danny exchanged a glance and shrug, then trailed after their boss.

The noise hit them the second the elevator doors swept open. Loud voices and, for God’s sake, what sounded like a low growling.

Martin followed Jack out of the elevator, craning his neck to see around the older man. There was a cluster of suited figures near the front Security counter.

As they drew closer, the growling sorted itself from the background of raised voices.

“Look, Fibbie, I ain’t gonna tell you again. Keep yer hands to yerself!”

“Now look here…!”

Baker. One of the more officiously repulsive of his fellow FBI agents. Of course it was Baker.

“If you can’t…”

“That’s enough.” The ice-cold voice cut across Baker’s bluster like a gale off a glacier. “You’ve seen our identification; that’s all you need.”

Martin jerked to a halt, jaw dropping. His body jolted as Danny plowed into him from behind.

“Hey, Martin! Warn a guy, would you?”

But Martin was too busy staring at the man who was facing off against Baker.

“Agent Baker! What’s going on here?” Jack’s irritated voice stilled the racket.

For a moment, everyone froze. The jumble of suited figures sorted itself into three FBI agents. Behind the counter, two of the women who spent mornings manning the scanners and metal detectors of incoming Security were staring at the two men confronting the knot of agents. On the counter, the trays were loaded with a dizzying assortment of armament.

The blond stranger, owner of that icy voice, was squared off, glaring, between the three agents and the growler.

The disturbingly familiar-looking growler.

“Agent Malone!” The desk clerk’s voice held the high thread of stress. “Sir, this man…” she gestured toward the blond’s companion. “He looks like… I thought… After…”

Malone was staring at the young man, a smile beginning to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Ms. Evans. I see the problem.”

Danny was hooting with delight. “Hey, Fitz! You never told us you had a twin!”

Martin was gazing, stunned, into flint-sharp blue eyes. Waves of fury flowed from the other man; he almost felt the heat of the scorching glare that ran down, then back up his own body.

“He don’t look nothin’ like me!” the man snarled.

But in fact, Martin knew they did look alike. Oh, they weren’t identical. He probably had an inch or so and twenty or thirty pounds, not to mention some additional years, on the man. And the blue eyes meeting his so fiercely were a few shades lighter than his own. Then there was the hair. He’d always kept his own hair under strict control. This man’s hair was long, tumbled, and a bit on the curly side. But that was all superficial. Underneath, that was his face.

Belatedly, Martin closed his mouth. Then he let a delighted smile creep over his lips. “And he certainly doesn’t sound much like me,” he remarked mildly.

The scowl deepened, and his doppelganger took a step toward him, prompting Davis to reach out and grab his leather-clad forearm. There was a low growl and a flurry of motion, and when things settled, Davis was lying, face down, with the stranger pinning his body against the floor.

“I tol’ ya, keep yer damn hands t’ yerself!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Again, the noise stilled as all heads swiveled toward the elevator.

“Fuller.” Malone nodded at his fellow supervisor.

“Larabee? What the hell is the meaning of this?”

The blond man—Larabee—stepped toward Fuller, green eyes glinting angrily. Martin felt a sympathetic shiver run up his spine. God forbid that glare was ever directed his way.

“This asshole one of your men, Fuller?”

“He certainly is, and I don’t take kindly to having my people manhandled!”

“Then teach them some manners. This bastard’s been told to keep his hands off my agent, and if he can’t figure out something as simple as that, you’re going to need to start looking for a replacement.”

The two men glared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Fuller’s eyes dropped, his mouth twisting in annoyance.

“Baker, apologize to Agent Tanner.”

“Security tagged him, sir!”

Fuller turned to the women behind the counter. “And why did security tag an ATF agent?”

Ms. Evans, chin firm, pointed toward Tanner. “Look at him, sir! He looks like Agent Fitzgerald. We thought…”

Her words trailed off, and she shrugged.

Fuller stared down at Tanner, who was apparently taking a degree of pleasure in keeping Baker’s face shoved into the floor. Slowly, the senior agent’s head began to nod.

He looked up to meet Larabee’s still frigid eyes. “Please accept our apology, gentlemen. You can see…” He gestured toward Martin. “… We have an interesting coincidence here. And what you may not know is that we suffered a … security incident yesterday. Our screeners were perhaps a bit overcautious.”

“What the hell kind of security risk did they think we’d be, Fuller? They’ve got our credentials; they can check anything they want with the ATF.” Larabee wasn’t giving an inch.

Fuller raised both hands, palms outward. “Just an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’d appreciate it if Tanner would release my man.”

Larabee stared at him for a full minute, finally nodding sharply. “Let the little FBI agent go, Vin.”

Tanner glanced up at Larabee, then surged to his feet, hauling the larger Baker with him. With a shove in Fuller’s direction, he released the man.

Baker lurched two steps, straightened and met his supervisor’s eyes. Behind him, Tanner stepped casually back to the counter and held out his hand to Ms. Evans.

“Sorry, ma’am. Got another one.”

Baker’s face flushed as his hands grabbed at his waist. A waist clearly innocent of the gun he’d had clipped to his belt a scant few minutes earlier.

Fuller closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exasperation tightening his mouth. “Baker, if you apologize like an adult, and ask very, very nicely, perhaps Agent Tanner will give your gun back.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Baker, breathing hard, fought to get his temper under control. Finally, he turned toward Tanner.

“Agent Tanner.” The animosity in his voice couldn’t be mistaken. “I’m very sorry. I would appreciate it if you would return my gun.”

Tanner stood, hip-shot, staring at the FBI agent. “Better ask the lady. Ain’t got it no more.” The lazy drawl dripped with provocation.

“Baker!” At Fuller’s barked reprimand, Baker stilled the fist he was raising. Quivering with fury, he stared into Tanner’s insolent gaze.

“Back off.” Larabee moved between his agent and the livid Baker. “You screwed up. It’s done. Collect your sidearm and back off.”

“I don’t see you calling Tanner off, Larabee,” Baker snarled.

“Don’t see any need, Baker. And that’s Mister Larabee. Don’t forget again.”

“Agent Baker. Don’t make me speak to you again.” Fuller moved to shove Baker toward the counter, then faced Larabee.

“Now, can we get on with what we called you here for? This meeting was supposed to begin half an hour ago. We need the input from your…”

The ice was back in those green eyes. “Plans just got changed, Fuller.”

“Larabee, I’m in charge of this investigation.”

“You may be in charge of your investigation, but you’re not in charge of me or Tanner.” He moved closer to Fuller, staring straight into the other man’s eyes and continuing in a low, rock-hard voice. “Thanks to you insisting that we had to be here this morning, and thanks to your director throwing his weight around to make sure we appeared, we’ve spent the last five hours on airplanes. And let me remind you that it’s presently six in the morning where we come from. We finished up a strenuous operation less than twenty-four hours ago. An operation in which Agent Tanner sustained some injury, which made this goddamned trip just a mite hard on him. Then when we walked in the door, your morons jumped us. Let me repeat… the plans are now changed.”

Fuller’s mouth twisted, but he remained silent.

“Now here’s what we’re going to do. Agent Tanner and I are going to head out to get something to eat, then we’re going to check into our hotel and sleep. When we wake up, we’re gonna eat again. Then we’re gonna go back to bed. When we get up tomorrow, we’re going to come back here. Then you can have your meeting.”

“But…”

“Vin?” Larabee gestured toward the counter and started to pick up and stow firearms. Tanner followed, appropriating the lion’s share of the hoard of weaponry, including one of the most wicked looking knives Martin could remember seeing.

“Larabee!”

“Stuff it, Fuller. We’ll be back tomorrow.” His mouth curved into a nasty little smile. “I’ll have you paged. Oh...” He paused as he clipped the last of the guns to the back of his belt. “You damn well better make sure we don’t repeat this show. And put Baker, here, back on his leash.”

Ignoring Fuller’s sputtering outrage, the two ATF agents headed for the door.

Martin couldn’t possibly have controlled the grin splitting his face. As Tanner followed Larabee out the glass doors, he glanced back and met Martin’s eyes.

On impulse, Martin winked. Tanner paused, then his mouth twitched into a tiny, lop-sided grin. With a small nod, he disappeared through the door.

Martin pulled his attention back, exchanging an amused glance with Danny as Jack did his best to placate Fuller’s significantly ruffled feathers.

Seeing the inevitable approaching, he grabbed Danny and shoved him toward the elevator. They barely made it into the semi-privacy of the cage before his partner collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter.

Smiling, Martin pulled the photo off their white-board time line. Not their most exciting case, but it was always good to wrap one up with all parties present and relatively healthy.

It was nicely satisfying that it had been his financial workup that had provided the key to this particular resolution. They’d found Berring preparing to board a flight to Mexico, briefcase full of most of the liquidated assets of the company whose ownership he’d shared with a partner. Found alive and well, but now headed for a nasty date in civil court. Not to mention the possibility of charges of criminal embezzlement hanging over his head.

“Nice job, Martin,” Jack said, clapping his hand on Martin’s shoulder as he walked past on his way back to his sanctum.

“Thanks, Jack.” It felt even better to finally feel like he’d gained some common ground with his team.

He jerked as a balled up wad of paper struck the side of his head.

“Don’t get used to it, Martin. Tomorrow you could be right back begging for table scraps!”

Martin tossed the ball of paper back at Danny. “Not if I can help it.”

He dropped his stack of printouts back on his desk, then glanced at the clock.

“Anyone interested in going out to grab some lunch?”

“Nah, not today,” Danny said with regret. “Gotta clean up the mess I made with these stupid files.”

Martin grinned. “You should try keeping things on the computer instead of all over the desk.”

“Hah. Hah. Hah. You’ll get yours, Harvard.”

“But not today,” Samantha sing songed as she moved past their desks. “Sorry, Martin, Viv and I have plans. And Jack has a lunch meeting. Guess you’re on your own.”

“Fine. Be that way.” He sighed, head drooping in apparent sorrow. “Just leave the new boy to fend for himself.”

They both laughed and waved as he moved toward the hall, feet scuffing in mock depression.

Martin was chuckling as the elevator door opened on the lobby. He really loved his new team. Hoped he was going to be able to make a permanent place for himself.

As he stepped out into the lobby, he met the eyes of the man who had just collected his belongings after passing through exit security.

Slowly, he moved up to the younger man, recognizing the lively curiosity in the bright blue eyes that scanned him, this time without the vitriol of the previous morning.

“Martin Fitzgerald.” He held his hand out, smiling.

His own smile widened as the other man favored him with a larger version of that quirky, lop-sided grin. “Vin Tanner.”

“Where’s your bulldog?”

Tanner’s eyes lit with laughter. “You better hope I don’t tell him you called him that. He’s stuck with that blowhard Fuller for the next hour or so. I snuck out to get somethin’ to eat. Never could stand sittin’ through that kind of jawin’ and snarlin’.”

Martin yielded easily to impulse. “You like Chinese?”

“Yup. Good Chinese.”

“There’s a pretty good little place around the corner. Want some company?”

Tanner tilted his head, regarding Martin with a quizzical little smile on his lips. “Could stand it. ‘Spect you and me have a bit we could talk about.”

“I don’t know… As far as I know, nobody in my family hails from Texas.”

Tanner laughed. “Well, I got no idea where my kin might be, if I got any, so who knows? Could be we’re long-lost twins.”

Martin joined his laughter as he cleared Security and headed toward the street.

“…So I spent the first two weeks pretty much in Jack’s dog house.”

Vin’s laugh was infectious. “Better’n I managed. I spent the two weeks after my first op locked up in the damned hospital.”

“Ouch.”

“Yup. Hate that place.”

“See a lot of it, do you?”

“One way or another.”

“You guys really are cowboys, aren’t you?”

Vin winked. “That’s another thing you don’t want ol’ Chris hearing you call him.”

Martin finished off his second egg roll, shaking his head in amusement. “You make him sound like a real bastard.”

“Sometimes he can be. Not usually to us, though. Ya really don’t wanna cross him unless you really need to.”

Martin leaned back, contemplating the other man. Apparently Hop Lee’s met Tanner’s standards. At least he was making good progress at wiping out enough food for several men his size.

And they’d discovered that they did have a lot to talk about—inconsequential, trivial things. But they were having a lovely time with each other.

“I got the impression he takes pretty good care of you.”

There was no mistaking the warm fondness in Tanner’s smile. “Oh, yeah. All of us.”

“Sounds like a good boss.”

“The best.” Tanner nodded sharply. “Never worked for a better man.”

“You feeling all right? He said you’d been hurt.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just bruised up a bit. Took a little bit of a fall. Hazard of the job. But I don’t much like flying, even when I ain’t stiff ‘n’ sore. Don’t like them little bitty seats, and the walls so close.”

Martin shrugged. “Never really bothers me. Sometimes it feels like I spent half my childhood on airliners, one way or another.”

Vin shuddered. “Have I mentioned how glad I am we ain’t twins?”

Laughing, Martin speared another egg roll. “Sounds like you’re pretty good with a gun.”

“Do all right, ‘specially with a long gun.”

“Another way we’re not alike. I’m fair. Better than average for the Bureau. But I’ll never be anyone’s idea of a sharpshooter.” He grinned and winked across the table. “I’d really like to see you shoot. Maybe I can sneak you onto the range next time I have to go through requals. You could use my ID.”

Vin’s eyes twinkled at him over a mouthful of pork fried rice. “Kinda defeats the purpose if you’re there to watch, don’t it?”

They laughed together. “Guess so. Besides, the jig would be up the second you opened your mouth, even if I could get you to cut the hair.”

“Ain’t gonna cut the hair, Fitzgerald, so forget about it.”

“So, how many bosses have you had? You can’t be more than, what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-five next birthday. And I’ve had enough bosses to know what Chris is worth. Army, U.S. Marshall’s… Enough, anyways.”

Martin was nodding slowly. “Come to think of it, I only need to have had three to know that Jack’s the best.”

“It’s interestin’, what you guys do. Finding missing folks.”

“Most of the time it’s very fulfilling. Once in a while…”

Vin’s head tilted, his mouth pursing slightly. “I’m figuring you don’t always find them in time.”

“Not in time… or sometimes there couldn’t have been an ‘in time’; sometimes it was too late before we ever got the case. Those are hard.”

“Spent some time bounty hunting before I hooked up with Chris and his team. It ain’t so easy, findin’ folks who maybe don’t wanna be found.”

“It’s hard enough for five of us. Must have been really interesting for one man by himself.”

Vin shrugged. “’Spect it’s different, what we had to do. Lot more rules for the FBI than for a freelancer.”

“Guess so. It still seems like it would be hard.”

Another lop-sided grin lit Tanner’s face. “Why d’ya think I gave it up and took up with the ATF?”

They shared another laugh, then reluctantly started sorting themselves out. Martin beat Vin with his credit card, then followed the other man out into the street. The walk back to the Federal Building was quietly companionable. He watched, bemused, as Tanner once again went through the ritual with his armory.

“Do you really need all of that?”

Tanner shrugged. “Never know. That’s another difference between what you do and what I do. You’d be surprised how often I need them guns. And it definitely ain’t only when I’m on the job.”

Martin grimaced. “That’s something I really like about being my kind of Federal Agent. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had to fire a gun at another human being.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Tanner stepped away from the counter, last of his weaponry once again concealed somewhere on his thin frame. “There’s times I wish I could do that sort of job, too. But yer good at what yer good at. And I’m good at shootin’.”

“I’m really glad to have met you, Vin.” Martin pushed the button to call the elevator. “I hope you’ll use that email address I gave you. I’d like to keep in touch.”

Tanner grinned mischievously. “Me, too. Got me a few ideas for the guys if I can get you to Denver.”

Martin’s brows rose. “Ideas? Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

Vin laughed. “Just… consider growin’ the hair out a bit, okay?”

“Oh, I don’t think so, friend. And why does this side of you surprise me?”

More laughter as the elevator arrived. “Well, you got kinda the wrong impression when we met. I was a bit… peeved yesterday morning’.”

“Peeved? That’s one word for it.” Martin grinned as he pushed their floor numbers, remembering the previous morning’s show. “Danny, my partner, is still giggling at unexpected moments. What are you two doing here, anyway?”

Vin shrugged. “Bust we made a couple months ago seems to tie into whatever Fuller’s team’s workin’ on. Seems he needed our input. Right now, and in person. Ain’t nothin’ we can tell him ain’t in all the paperwork, but you Fibbies can be a pain, you know?” He winked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I guess we can. Fuller sure can, not to mention Baker.”

“Wouldn’t mind goin’ a few rounds with that asshole.” The elevator doors slid open on level four, and Tanner held out his hand. “Larabee’s probably spit out most of Fuller’s pieces by now. He’ll be lookin’ for me. Nice to meet ya, Martin. Take care of yourself.”

Martin returned the firm grip. “You too, Vin. And I’ll be in touch.”

As he watched the other man stride down the hall, Martin smiled, thinking of Baker going hand to hand with Vin. Despite the fact the FBI agent was significantly more bulky than Tanner, somehow he was pretty sure Baker’d spend most of his time face down on the mat.

Couldn’t happen to a more deserving man.

Martin laughed softly, shaking his head at Vin’s message. The man’s emails were as quirky and unexpected as his conversation. And it sounded like he and his team were really close. They’d have to be to put up with the pranks Vin seemed to delight in.

Shutting down his email program, he brought up the data for his latest set of searches. Much as he enjoyed the notes he received every few days, life—and the job—went on.They were in the early stages of another search, and so far getting nowhere. But a woman and child really couldn’t just vanish off the face of the Earth; somewhere they’d find the threads that wouldn’t break when they started tugging on them.

He glanced up as Jack walked by, nodding as the SAC jerked his head toward their conference table. Time to look for more of those threads.

In a way, this was his favorite part of his job—sitting around the table, sharing information and insight, and brainstorming with the rest of the team. They were so different, brought such different perspectives to their task. Inevitably, one of them would hit on the insight that put a crack in the wall they were trying to tear down.

This time was no different. They tossed out information, discussed, disagreed, gradually building a more in-depth picture of their missing persons and the most recent days of their lives. This time it was Sam, with her hyper-sensitivity to issues within couples, who provided the first bit of light. Then Martin himself was able to add the facts he’d gleaned about the husband’s previous marriage. And they had what looked to be a real avenue to pursue.

“All right.” Jack leaned back, nodding in satisfaction. “Sam, I want you to go back and talk to the husband. He’s not telling us the whole story, here. Take Danny with you. Oh, and take another look at Mrs. Marshall’s belongings. See if there’s anything that supports your suspicions.

“Martin, locate the ex-wife. I think we need to talk to her. And Viv, you and I are going back to the park. I want to talk to some of those vendors again.”

Imbued with new purpose, they dispersed to their various tasks. Martin slid back down in front of his computer, bringing up some of the specialized search devices which his credentials made available to him.

This felt right. Like they were on the right track.

As he set up his search parameters, the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. Absently, gaze fixed on the monitor, he answered.

“Martin?”

“Kev!”

“How you doing, son?”

He laughed. “Fine. Busy. Where are you?”

“Just about to land at La Guardia. I’ll be in the city for the night, then out again tomorrow morning. Any chance you could get away for dinner?

Martin glanced at the time. Four in the afternoon.

“I’m setting up some pretty important searches, but give me a bit of time and I should be able to leave things running on their own for an hour or so. I’ll have to clear it with my boss, though.”

Terrific. You have my cell number. Give me a call when you know.

“Gotcha. It’ll be great to see you, Kev.”

”You too, you young reprobate."

Martin laughed at the old tease, then disconnected. He glanced up, seeing Jack and Viv heading for the elevator.

“Jack?” He trotted after them as Jack turned back, brows lifted.

“Find something?”

“No, not yet. I’ve got things running, looking for her. I just wanted to make sure it’s okay if I leave for an hour or so. My uncle’s in town for the night, and I’d really like to have dinner with him.”

“Uncle? Are you telling me there’s another Victor Fitzgerald out there for us to deal with?”

Martin grinned. “Thank God, no. Kevin’s my mother’s brother. Believe me, they’re nothing at all alike.”

Malone smiled. “I don’t see any problem, Martin. Enjoy yourself. And don’t work all night to make up for it.”

Martin flushed slightly. So he didn’t have a life. He wasn’t the only one addicted to late hours in the office.

He was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he turned back to his desk.

“You look good, Mart. Happy.”

Martin leaned back, rubbing his full stomach and smiling. Only his Uncle Kevin called him Mart.

“I am. This is a good assignment. Just what I wanted.”

His uncle grimaced. “That’s not quite the image I’m getting from your father.”

Dropping his eyes, Martin sighed. “Well, we all know I haven’t turned out to be the kind of FBI agent he’d planned.”

“Now, Mart. You know…”

“Kev, I stopped fooling myself a long time ago. I can’t… I won’t be his kind of agent. He’s got Terrence and Meredith following as closely in his footsteps as they can manage. Why does he have to add me to his little cadre?”

Kevin smiled gently. “You know why, son. You’ve always been his golden boy. Youngest, best looking, best athlete, best academic. And most spirited.”

Martin was shaking his head. “He’s not so fond of that so-called ‘spirit.’ ”

“Oh, yes he is. He’s just not so good at… well, at letting go of the reins.”

Martin smiled. “Son. You know, there’ve been a lot of moments in my life when I’ve wished I really were your son.”

The older man reached across the table to grip his wrist. “I’d have had you in a breath, Martin. But you and Victor… you’ll work through this.”

“Like we have all our other disagreements? I don’t know...” He sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I never could get him to believe me when I told him this was the assignment I wanted. He’s still got delusions of some kind of political career for me.” Martin shuddered. “I can’t think of anything I’d hate more.”

Kevin laughed gently. “Then you won’t do it. And deep down, Victor knows you won’t. He’s not stupid, and he’s had enough demonstrations from you in the past few years to know when you’ve got your hooves dug in.”

Martin grinned, then shook himself slightly. “I’d just as soon not talk about my father, Kev.” He leaned back and gazed speculatively at his uncle, eyes tracing the familiar features. He knew he favored his mother’s side of the family; Kevin was striking evidence of the fact. “By the way, I wanted to ask you… Are there any branches of the Lloyd family in other parts of the country?”

Kevin’s brows peaked. “Any part in particular?”

“South. South-west. Texas, to be precise.”

“Not that I know of.” Kevin grinned at him. “Is there some particular reason you’ve been wondering?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Martin took another sip. “I met someone a couple of weeks ago… an ATF agent from Colorado, though the second he opens his mouth it’s clear he’s originally from Texas. He caused all kinds of uproar for security, because the two of us look enough alike to be brothers. It’s pretty amazing.”

Kevin was laughing again. “You mean you aren’t an original? Horrible!”

Martin joined the laughter. “Actually, I’d be the original. He’s a few years younger than I am. Although…” He scanned his uncle’s face again. “…I think we’d both have to give precedence to you. Anyway, we were able to spend a couple of hours together after everything got sorted out. I really liked him. He looks a lot like me, but he’s actually pretty different. And he doesn’t know anything about most of his family, as far as I can tell. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming about that kind of personal detail. Of course, come to think of it, neither was I. Strangely enough, it wasn’t something we spent much time talking about.”

“Well, there don’t appear to be any long-lost branches of the family unaccounted for by that genealogy project your cousin Barbara was so obsessed by last year. I’d say it’s just a strange coincidence.”

“That’s what I thought. I couldn’t remember anything about any Texas relatives, and God knows Barb lost no opportunity to tell us the latest.”  Wiping his mouth on a napkin after the last bite of his dessert, Martin reached for coffee. “It’s really kind of too bad. I’d trade my brother or my sister for Vin in a second.”

Kevin laughed again. “Now, Mart. Let’s not be unkind. Your brother and sister have excellent qualities. Just give me a moment and I’ll think of some.”

Martin grinned, shaking his head. “Naughty, naughty, Kevin. But I have to tell you, next time I’m home I’m going to go looking for old family Bibles. If the name ‘Tanner’ isn’t there, I’m going to forge it.”

Kevin froze, napkin half-way to his mouth.

“Wh… what did you say?”

“What, that I’m going to take up forging?”

“No. What’s your new friend’s name?”

“Vin. Vin Tanner.”

“ T…Tanner? Oh, my God.”

~End—for now~