“We were hit with an EFP. She took shrapnel straight to the heart.” He leaned against the side bar, putting his arms over his chest. “Her death, without a doubt, was my fault. I will have to live with the guilt of that knowledge for the rest of my life.”
The guilt he was feeling was likely not his to bear, but there was nothing she could say that would assuage what he was feeling. Right now, all he needed was to be heard. And, if that was all she could do to make him feel better, she was willing to sit there and be the ear he obviously so desperately needed.
“I know, logically, that I didn’t put that EFP out there. I couldn’t have known it was there, or that it was coming for us, or that it would have hit the up-armored unit just right...but if I had stopped things before they had gotten serious, she wouldn’t have been out there. She probably would have taken a transfer out of the hellhole. She would probably be the one working for STEALTH now, not me.”
“So, you have survivor’s guilt too?” she asked, her words soft and nonjudgmental.
He ran his hands down over his face. “I don’t know why I told you all this. Needless to say, if I ever went to therapy, I’m sure that they would have a field day. I put the fire in dumpster fire.”
She didn’t agree. Not in the slightest. “You are just a man with wounds. It comes with the territory.”
“Of being alive.” He finished her thought, a thought she wasn’t going to say.
“I’m sorry for taking things here,” he said with a sigh. “I was rather hoping things between us would go a bit of a different direction... Though, now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea—with me being the grim reaper and all.”
She chuckled, though she shouldn’t have. In moments like this, when darkness loomed heavy, the only thing that could make it all okay was levity. “Does the grim reaper have a sidekick?”
He looked at her, surprise and relief marking his features. “You know, I never thought about that. Maybe his sidekick would be his scythe.”
“Not my favorite nickname, but it’s still kinda badass, Grim.”
“We may be among the strangest friends on the planet,” he said, laughing.
He had called them friends... They were steadily moving in the direction she had wanted while still staying safely behind the line of a relationship. They could toe the line, but she would have to play it safe when it came to him.
She had to keep this professional, or at least try to. He was work, or at least he had to appear to be only a part of her work to the outside world. And that was to mention nothing about what her bosses within the Bureau would surmise. If they found out that the target of the shooting was sitting in her living room drinking wine, there would definitely be an internal investigation. Oh, and Peahen would have a field day when he heard about her unprofessionalism—he already had a chip on his shoulder.
“There is nothing I like more than to exist in the world of the strange, the dark horse and the odd ducks. We are the ones who keep the world fresh, away from the habitual monotony that comes with simply surviving. I’ve always wanted more than that. It’s how I found myself doing what I’m doing. I never thought about it in grim terms, but I really do love being the scythe when it comes to cutting down evil.”
“I know that feeling,” he said, a tenderness that looked very similar to adoration upon his features. “We really would make one hell of a team.”
There was a knock on the door, making her jump.
Who would be knocking on her door this late at night? For a moment, they sat in silence. Troy’s hand was on his sidearm, and as she looked to him, he pressed his finger to his lips and silently roll-walked toward the bay window that looked out and onto the front porch.
He slipped behind the curtain, moving so he could make out whoever was standing at the door. As he looked, his hand moved from his weapon and his body relaxed from his action-ready tightness. “It’s one of your friends from the Bureau,” he said, shrugging as though he wasn’t completely sure. “Older guy, maybe midfifties. Looks like he’s driving a black Suburban, someone else is in the passenger side, but they are parked right in front of your place. They aren’t trying to be covert, that’s for damn sure.”
Then he wasn’t talking about Agent Hunt, who was just moving into his early forties.
Who else from the Bureau would show up on her doorstep in the middle of the night? The phone call... What if it had been Raft, the special agent in charge for her division? Her stomach dropped. She moved to ask Troy to leave the room and stay out of sight, but as she looked to where he had been standing, he was already gone.
He must have known what was at stake for her as well. She’d have to thank him later.
The door opened without a sound. Standing on the doorstep was Agent Peahen. Fury roiled through her. “What in the hell are you doing here? You didn’t seriously drive here all the way from Billings, did you?”
Peahen’s face puckered, his lips pulled into the closest thing to a sneer without actually being one. Their distaste for one another was mutual. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
“Why are you on my doorstep?” she asked.
Had there been some kind of informational breach in which everyone in the effing world had suddenly been informed of her address? If Peahen had found her, it was time to move again.
“I wouldn’t be on your doorstep if I didn’t have to be. And yet here I find myself.” Peahen grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out. “I’m here for the files you promised me. You have access to them, correct? I’m not leaving here until you have forwarded them all to me.”
“Why do you care so much about a burglary that happened five years ago?” She tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt. She never had sent him those files, mostly because she’d not wanted to jump when he ordered her to. And because her father had mentioned it as well.
“What do you care? You didn’t solve it.”
Kate gritted her teeth in an attempt to keep from taking him down with a quick two-finger jab to the throat. “Has there been another burglary, something you think may be tied to the case? Or are you reopening the investigation for another reason?”
He groaned, leaning his head back, as if the mere fact she had questions before she blindly handed her case over was out of line. “Look, I don’t have to answer your questions. I’m not here to be interrogated. Now, you can give them to me willingly, or I will go over your head—in fact, you’re lucky I haven’t already done that.”
The fact that he was standing on her doorstep, threatening her with going above her head, was odd. He’d already done this—told her he’d go to her superiors. Why hadn’t he by now? Billings was a hell of a drive from Missoula. It certainly wasn’t on his way to anything, at least not that she could think of.
“Peahen, I’ve no problem giving you the files. I have them with me. But before you do anything, I need to know why you need them and what you’re actually doing here in Missoula.” She gave him a critical look. “And don’t give me any of that I’m not here for an interrogation nonsense. You can’t expect me to just give you files, without asking a few questions. You are not that kind of friend, and you know it.”
He snickered. “For someone that is inept at her job, you sure ask a lot of questions. Maybe if you treated your suspects the same way you’re treating me, you would break a lot more cases.”
Her hands balled into tight fists. No one would think anything of her slugging him if they had been there to hear what he was saying. “You’re one to judge, Peahen. The last time I checked, I actually have a higher prosecution rate than you do.”
“Fine.” Peahen turned to leave. “You are going to regret the fact you’re being such a little... Well, so unprofessional. And when your dad hears how you treated me, you’re going to get it from every side. You deserve whatever consequences come your way. Whether you want to admit it or not, we fight for the same
team.”
“Stop right there,” she said, charging out the door after Peahen. “My father mentioned you the other day and now you’re mentioning him. What the hell is going on with you two? Did you have something to do with the shooting in Missoula the other day? Is that why you’re here?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a meeting in town. I was just getting back from Salt Lake City and the regional headquarters. It was easier just to come over here and take care of it in person.”
She wasn’t sure if she believed him or not. Yet there was something to his voice that made her think he was telling the truth. He wasn’t displaying any of the typical signs of deception, but that didn’t mean anything, considering he knew just as well as she did what those signs were. He could have easily been trying to deceive her.
“And what about your ongoing friendship with my father?” she asked.
Peahen sniffed, annoyed. “Your father and I go way back, long before you even joined the agency.”
She’d had no idea. In fact, her father had never mentioned a connection with Peahen before this week. Had Peahen been part of the reason that she had been picked up by the agency? The thought petrified her. For her security clearances, there was no doubt in her mind that they had looked into her and all the people connected to her. Peahen had to have been asked about her, and the fact that she was currently an agent meant that he had to have said something to her credit.
The possibility that he had done her a favor without her even knowing it still didn’t make up for what a jerk he was every time she had dealt with him over the last five years.
For a moment, she considered asking him into the house, but she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of where Troy had been standing. If Peahen got nosy, or turned down the wrong hall, he very well could end up face-to-face with Troy. She didn’t need them in the room together.
“Let me go grab my phone, and I’ll send in the files. I want you to promise me that you’ll keep me up-to-date with your findings on this case.”
“That’s fine,” Peahen said.
She jogged back up the steps and to the living room. Grabbing her phone, she made her way back outside.
Peahen look slightly less annoyed than he had five minutes ago, but only slightly. He wore the same pinched expression he always did, making her wonder if that was just his face. If he was married, she felt sorry for the woman.
After a few searches through her files, she sent off the email. “It should be in your inbox.”
“Great.” Peahen’s lips quivered into what she assumed was almost a smile. “And, believe it or not, your dad is a good man. You should take it easy on him...and me...once in a while.” With that, he turned and strode away, obviously not waiting for her to say anything in return.
A tightness she hadn’t realized she’d been experiencing in her chest loosened. She’d never believed anything Peahen had ever told her, but it could have been their acrimonious personalities at fault rather than any particular transgression toward one another. His evaluation of her father, and the fact Peahen had acted in favor of her in the past... Well, it changed things.
And though her father was by no means a perfect man, it was good to know he wasn’t evil or corrupt—at least she assumed.
She loved him and her mother, and they had done much to show her love when she was a child.
When she’d been younger, she had been studying the violin. Twice a year for what must have been fifteen years, she had performed in recitals. During high school, she had played with the Missoula Symphony as the youngest first chair. She’d played with them for four years before she had gone to Vassar. Her parents had never missed a single performance, not even when her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had been seeking treatment.
It was strange, but after what had happened the other day, those memories and their support had started to lose their texture, like someone had started to pull at the strings that wove together to make her soul. In essence, it was as if her father’s possible complicity in the shooting had made her question everything—even who she was.
And here she was, back in that same confusing reality in which she didn’t know who or what was the driving force in her life—and all thanks to a five-minute meeting with a man she had thought was her enemy.
She made her way back inside. After—well, if—Troy went home, she would have to dig deeper into the old burglary case. There was something that they were all looking for, and she had a feeling that it went far deeper than she had initially assumed.
The house was silent as she closed the door behind her. “Troy, you can come out now. Thank you for what you did back there. It would have been hard to explain why you are here.” She paused, waiting for Troy to answer. There was no response.
Making her way around the house, her heart sank as she realized that Troy was gone.
Chapter Ten
He shouldn’t have just left Kate like that last night, but in the moment, he hadn’t known what to do. All he had known for sure was that, for her sake, he couldn’t be seen in her house or anywhere near her property. After he’d alerted Kate to the BuCar outside her house, he had slipped out the back and around the block. When he’d gotten into his car and driven away, the last thing he had seen was Kate running out after Agent Peahen.
Troy had worked with Peahen once before on an investigation out of Billings, and it hadn’t been one of his favorite assignments. The agent had thought himself far above him, both intellectually and morally, and had made it clear. If he’d worn a general’s uniform beneath the suit, Troy wouldn’t have been surprised.
If he had added himself to the mix, there was no way Kate would have come out unscathed. Not with Agent Peahen on the warpath. There was no telling what he would do—he definitely didn’t need any more artillery, and especially none in the form of an agent mixing business with pleasure.
Not that there was any real pleasure between him and Kate. Sure, they had flirted. They had even held hands and touched one another in ways that were definitely more than two friends...but that didn’t mean they had gone beyond the point of no return, did it?
He looked over at the clock beside his bed—9:00 a.m. There wasn’t anyone moving outside of his bedroom at the STEALTH headquarters, located on the Widow Maker Ranch. Everyone was probably already buzzing around their day, getting things done. He shouldn’t have slept in so late. Zoey was supposed to call him in twenty minutes and he needed to be on his game when she did. No doubt, she would ring ten minutes early. She lived on the Anglo system of time—if a person was on time, they were ten minutes late.
It had been tough getting used to everyone’s quirks when he had set foot back on American soil. Civilians, and even contractors who had never been in the military, were of an entirely different mindset than he was.
One of his friends, Jesse, had worked at his side and gone through training with him and finally into the same unit. Jesse went on to marry a woman and have four amazing kids, but even now when on the phone together, they would frequently admit that no one understood them better than they understood one another. They were brothers. No, deeper than brothers... Mike didn’t even understand him as well as Jesse did.
Jesse had been with him when Tiff had been killed. That alone—that moment of horror—solidified a bond that was already stronger than diamonds or blood.
Maybe he should call him. At the very least, Jesse would tell him he was being a fool when it came to Kate, and maybe he could get his head straight. He hadn’t been this screwed up when it came to a woman since, well...he would say Tiff, but even their relationship wasn’t this unnavigable.
Then again, what was there to ask? He imagined exactly how the conversation would go down: “Hey, man, I think I’m falling for a woman who I’m helping to solve a shooting... Yeah, the dude was trying to take out Mike. Yeah... Her family owns the company I
am investigating.”
Jesse would tell him to tuck and roll, and get the hell out of the country as fast as humanly possible. It wasn’t even worth the breath to ask him his opinion. Jesse was always of the rational frame of mind. The mind that rarely deferred to the heart.
Regardless of what he felt, wanted or yearned for, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. And he needed to apologize for his sudden departure. Kate probably wasn’t the kind of woman who was wondering about his welfare, but she did seem like the kind of woman who didn’t appreciate anyone sneaking out of her place.
When he’d been helping her with the wine, there had been a picture on the wall beside the side bar. In it, Kate had been standing with her mother and father and what looked like her boyfriend...or past boyfriend. He’d dug around, but the internet was devoid of any sort of current information. She definitely wasn’t a publicity junkie in either her public or her private life. It was great for her, but it made it more of a challenge for him when it came to investigations. Like most agents, she kept her social-media presence scant and locked tight.
His phone rang. Zoey. “Hello?” he answered.
“Are you happy?” Zoey wasn’t much of one for hellos. Or goodbyes.
“Happy about what?” he asked, not sure based on her tone if he should find a bomb shelter before she continued her rant or if he should purge his soul to her.
She sighed, now definitely annoyed. “Are you done watching over your girlfriend?”
Oh.
“What do you need from me?” he asked, taking the high road instead of getting hooked by her emotionally hijacking statement.
“Oh, so you are ready to get back to work. I’m glad to hear it.” Zoey’s tone dulled. “I need you to go back to the ConFlux building. You need to see if you can’t hack into their system through their Wi-Fi—it’s their weakest point. Then I will take care of the rest. After you are done with that, I need you to see if you can infiltrate the building without setting off any alarms. You have whatever resources you need to make this happen.”
A Loaded Question Page 9
