As Had settled into the seat, Nadira gave him her dazzling smile once more. Had felt his stomach drop and turn in a pleasant way. It was like going on that ride at the amusement park that took you up to the top and then dropped you and lifted you up in random increments. A tickling feeling that made him feel like there was a possibility that he might just throw up.
And then they were off, and the tickling turned into a complete flip-flop. Wow, was this awesome. He glanced over at Nadira. She was awesome.
“Where are we going?” Had was so excited he almost hadn’t registered the fact that neither one of them had spoken. It was like the speed and movement of the car was its own conversation, and his question was almost an intrusion.
At least it seemed to be a welcome intrusion to Nadira. She pursed her lips.
“What are you up for?”
“Anything.” It was the honest truth. He had yet to encounter a food he couldn’t at least tolerate. Except for tuna casserole. And really, no one with taste buds could call that food and maintain a straight face.
“Okay, normally, I’d take you to some freaky weird place just to see how you could handle it, but I like you, and I’m in the mood for burgers.”
Had wasn’t really sure that he’d taken anything in past I like you, which had done all kinds of interesting things to his still loopy stomach and other areas further south. Burgers. That was it.
Wait? Wasn’t there something about cows being sacred? No, no. That was Indian. Wow. At least he hadn’t said that out loud. He mentally wiped his imaginary brow. That was a close one.
Nadira was looking at him with expectation, and he realized he hadn’t answered the question. “Oh, yes. Sounds great.”
“Good. I think you’re gonna like this place.”
Had didn’t really care. Right now he could be eating cardboard, and he’d enjoy it just fine. Not trusting himself to speak without giving away his feelings, he just nodded. And smiled. Was that smile too big? He toned it down a bit.
Nadira laughed, a ripple of sound that traveled all the way down Had’s spine. “It’s a place that’s been around since the 20s. It’s cool.”
“Cool. Great.” Okay, he’d managed to get those words out mostly intact. But there must have been something strange about his tone, as her eyebrow went up.
“Oh, not into vintage?”
“No, no. I love vintage. You know, unless it’s cell phones or laptops.” Had wasn’t sure what was coming out of his mouth. He hoped it was intelligible.
That answer seemed to have been okay. “Yeah, I love my iPhone, although Apple’s going downhill fast since Jobs died.”
“I know, right?” Had agreed, on firmer ground now that they were talking about computers. “It’s like everyone else over there is a bunch of morons.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, frowning. “I’m an amateur filmmaker, and when--”
“Final Cut X came out?” Had completed her sentence.
“You, too?” she gushed.
“Well, I just tinker around. Not even amateur level, but that change of format was--”
“It was a travesty,” she said, making a chopping motion with one hand while she switched lanes abruptly with the other. “They might as well have called it--”
“iMovie Pro!” he finished for her. She grinned.
“Totally.”
And then another turn from Fruth Street onto Guadalupe, and they were there. It was a square box of a place with two stories that was covered in whitewashed wooden siding. On a sign out facing Guadalupe, the lettering proclaimed the place to be Martin’s Kum Bak, Since 1926.
“Welcome to Dirty Martin’s,” Nadira proclaimed as she pulled into a parking space.
Dirty Martin’s. Had didn’t know if he should be frightened or excited.
“Um, what’s with the name?” he asked.
“You mean the dirty part?” She chuckled. “Back when it opened, the place had a dirt floor. The name stuck.”
As they went in, Had was struck by a wave of good smells, all of them heart-attack worthy. Fried everything as far as the nose could sense. His stomach rumbled.
There was a long counter with swiveling chairs right in front of the grills, with booths on the other side of the aisle. The place was close to being packed.
“We’re lucky,” Nadira said, nodding in approval. “Usually we’d be looking at a much longer wait.”
They ordered. Nadira got the O.T. Special, and Had struggled choosing between the chili cheeseburger and the chicken fried steak sandwich. The lack of onions on the latter ended up swaying him, and Nadira asked for fried pickles for them both to split.
As they waited for their food, Nadira pierced him with a sideways look.
“You guys aren’t doing so hot, are you?”
Had felt his mouth gape open. “How did you know that?”
“Please. It wasn’t hard.” She shrugged, an elegant little gesture that exposed her dark shoulders. She was wearing a shirt that was a bit oversized, and Had was finding himself constantly distracted by how her body was moving underneath.
Her face was not perfect. Her nose was long and slightly crooked, the eyes set almost too far apart. Her lips, while full, had an interesting little quirk to them that made it seem like she was always in the middle of a half-grin. But an intelligent and curious energy shone from her eyes that was magnetic. Had thought she was gorgeous.
There was an unconscious grace she possessed that both put him at ease and fired his every sense. It was disconcerting how comfortable and uncomfortable he could feel at the same time.
“Is it that bad?” he asked, as their pickles were plopped down in front of them.
Had popped one in his mouth and just about died. They were amazing. Salty with a great bite from the pickle with just a hint of heat in the breading. He had to admit, when she’d ordered he’d been skeptical. His mama’s fried pickles were to die for.
These were better.
He could never, ever tell her that. He scooped up another handful of the hot slices, trying to ignore the fact that they were scalding his palms. Nadira smirked at him, and then answered.
“It’s not bad. Just… disjointed.” A thoughtful look crossed her face for a moment. “You guys feel like you’re sort of a… what… a family or something. But that you’re all in the middle of a dysfunctional patch.”
She had described their team to a t. Had looked at Nadira with a new sense of awe. Not only was she interesting and funny and stunning. She was perceptive.
He might just be in real trouble here. Maybe he should call his mama back, get some advice.
A shake of the head and his momentary crazy was gone. This must be bad if he was contemplating going to his mama for advice.
Realizing that he’d left a considerable gap in the conversation, Had ducked his head and grinned at her. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
“What’s the problem?” She seemed to realize that the question might be intrusive and added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Had thought about that for a moment. The last time he’d made friends with someone during an investigation, the guy had turned out to be the killer. Clearly there was something off with his radar.
But he didn’t have to share any details, right? Plus, she didn’t feel like a serial killer. In retrospect, Preston Longmore kind of had, and if Had’d been less trusting, he probably would’ve seen it.
“No, it’s just us trying to figure out the team dynamic, I guess. We’ve had some bad stuff go down.”
“Worse than the explosion?”
Had grimaced. “Yeah. Well…” He thought back to his time being tortured and the team searching through the barns for him. “Yeah, actually.”
“Wow.” She grimaced. “That’s intense.”
Had looked down at the empty basket where the fried pickles had been. There was nothing but a layer of grease and a few crumbs. He picked at the tiny bits of breading, wishing there were more, when the rest of their ord
er was plopped down in front of him. One bite of his sandwich, and the pickles were forgotten.
Man, this place was good.
“I’ll tell you what’s intense,” he mumbled through his food. “This. This right here.”
“Good?”
“Amazing.”
They ate in silence for a bit, and then Nadira set her burger, a monstrosity with bacon and cheese exploding from every side, down for a moment. She held his gaze, and her expression grew serious.
“I can tell that there’s something special about you guys. The way you interact. The kind of people you are. That type of team is rare.”
“Yeah, well,” Had said, after swallowing his last… and far too large… bite. “That’s all Coop. Agent Cooper, that is.”
“The African American woman?” Nadira asked, and Had nodded. “She’s gorgeous.”
“And smart, and capable, and, and, and…”
“That’s surprising. She was so checked out when I met her.”
Had frowned. Nadira was right, of course, but he struggled not to defend her. “She’s had a rough couple of months.”
“You care about her.” It wasn’t a question.
He nodded. “And I don’t know what to do.”
There was a pause as Nadira grew thoughtful once more. As exciting as her boundless energy and insane driving was, Had was discovering that this was his favorite part of her. The penetrating intellect and perception she seemed to possess.
“There is a story of a father… a good man, great leader… who stops leading his family. Two of his sons are asses, not worth much. But one of the good ones is troubled by his dad stepping back.”
This was sounding all too familiar. Had’s attention was riveted on Nadira’s mouth as she spoke.
“So, this young man has to go out to hunt for food, and instead of taking on the job himself, he asks his father for advice. And keeps asking him for advice.” She picked up one of her fries and pointed at Had with it. “He refused to treat his father as anything less than the leader he was, in spite of his dad’s resistance.”
“But we’ve done that with her,” Had protested.
“Really?” She shrugged. “Maybe so. I don’t know you guys well enough to assess.” Nadira popped the French fry in her mouth. “But from my perspective all I heard was a couple of awkward pauses.”
Had thought back. They all looked to her for leadership, but did any of them still treat her like a leader?
Ideas began to form, plans that he might be able to implement. Coop had brought them all together and had formed them into a cohesive group. He wasn’t going to give up on that so easily.
It wasn’t going to be simple, and Had suspected that he’d have to do something rather extreme to jumpstart the process. But he was committed.
This lunch had been so much more than he’d been hoping. Good food, good advice, and spectacular company.
Now it was time to get back to his family.
* * *
Sariah’s mouth tasted of things dead and dying.
She rolled over, shielding her eyes from the abrupt sunlight that streamed in through her hotel room window. Why was it open? Hadn’t she shut the damn thing before she’d gone back to sleep?
And then the answer presented itself.
Had.
He was standing over her bed, grinning at her. How had he gotten in here? Must’ve been the hotel manager. The guy was a dick, and Sariah fully intended to write up a report or something.
She groaned and rolled back over, pulling a pillow over her head. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d take the hint and go away.
No such luck.
With one swift move, Had snatched the pillow away from her and jumped on the bed by her side. What the hell was he doing?
Before she could react or protect herself in any way, the young officer had pinned her down. A sense of surprise coursed through her. This was so far afield for Had, who, regardless of his quirks, was always respectful to a fault. A second later, and that sense of surprise turned to flat-out shock.
Had began tickling her.
She wanted to resist, to stay stoic, but Had was merciless. Without wanting to, Sariah found herself… laughing.
And not just a little giggle. This was a full-on belly laugh that just kept going and going and going. Had was a skilled tickler, and the moment she started to adjust, he’d switch to another spot.
Her stomach ached from laughing, and in spite of multiple attempts to dislodge the torturous officer who had her trapped, Sariah had no way to escape. After a bit, she gave up entirely, allowing the laughter to wash over her like a wave in the ocean.
She’d only experienced it once. It was during college, and her roommate Natalia had pretty much forced her to go. The beach had been almost deserted that day, but Sariah still remembered the sensation.
They’d been body boarding for an hour or so, and a particularly strong wave had come in. Sariah had tried to do what Natalia had taught her, to catch the wave right at the perfect point and ride it in. But instead it had enveloped her, and she’d been dragged under the churning water.
There had been a moment of panic, during which she’d fought against the forces working on her, feeling her lungs almost ready to explode with the desire to breathe. And the fear had been real.
But then she stopped fighting.
The force of the wave tossed her about, but once she softened, the buffetings turned into a strange sort of violent caress. Her limbs were massaged by the ocean, and after a moment or two more, Sariah was able to determine which way was up and make her way to the surface.
So she did the same thing now. Gave herself over to the tickling, allowed herself the exquisite pleasure-pain of the laughter. And as she laughed and laughed and laughed, she realized that the laughter had turned to tears. She was crying, sobbing, her soul coming out of her throat in great heaving gasps.
And the tickling stopped.
“I’m sorry, Coop.” Had said, then softer, “Sariah.”
He never called her by her first name.
Shifting back, Had untangled himself from her, giving her space to breathe, to continue crying. She slowly sat up, the sobs diminishing bit by bit until a calm stole over her body, leaving her spent but at peace.
She felt better than she had in days. Weeks.
Since she’d found that body in the hotel room.
And for the first time since that sight had assaulted her senses, Sariah was able to think about it without shying away. She was able to face the mental vision and experience all the pain and fear and inadequacy of that moment without breaking.
It was terrible. It was excruciating.
It was exactly what she needed.
She lifted her eyes to meet Had’s gaze, and she could see the concern in his eyes. He was so worried about her. He had been for quite a while.
Her mouth wasn’t up to smiling, but she gave him an attempt. It must’ve worked on some level, as his lips twitched up in response.
“I’m okay,” she murmured.
“Are you?” he pressed.
She thought about it for a moment. The response was slow and halting in coming.
“I… No, not… completely,” she responded, wanting to be as honest as she could. “But better than I have been in a long, long time.” She reached out a hand and placed it on his leg. “Thank you, Had.” And then, because it had meant something to her when he had done it, she added, “Kyle.”
His smile spread until it looked like it would break his face in half. “I think that’s the only time you’ve said my first name.”
She poked him, the gesture playful. “Don’t get used to it. I’m pretty sure it’ll never happen again.”
“Yeah. ‘Sall right. I like ‘Had’. It’s much more utilitarian.”
Sariah looked at him. His expression was expectant, waiting. It was clear what he was wanting. And she wasn’t ready to give it. Not by a long shot.
“Things aren’t going to change,
you know,” she said, keeping her tone gentle. “I’m not going to all of a sudden ‘snap out of it’. I feel the way I feel for a reason.”
Had shrugged. “I know. You need time.”
“It’s not just that.” She groped for the words to explain. “I’m not sure I can come back.”
“You can.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “But I’m not sure I want to.”
Again, Had shrugged. “Maybe so, maybe not.” He hopped off the bed and began walking toward the exit. “But you’re our leader. And sometimes… it’s not about you.”
What did that mean? She wanted to ask him the question, but he was already gone, the door swinging closed behind him.
One thing was certain, though. Whatever happened next, Sariah would be grateful for Had taking the risk to snap her out of her dark place. She wasn’t about to take on leadership of the team, but she no longer wanted to curl up in a ball and waste away.
She pushed herself off the bed and headed in toward the shower.
It was time to get clean.
CHAPTER 6
The flight back to Virginia tasted of failure.
Joshua looked out the window, Bella nosing at his side. She’d been doing that most of the flight, even though Reggie was on the other side of him and had been giving Bella plenty of pets. His dog knew he was discouraged, and if there was one thing that was not allowed as far as she was concerned, it was wallowing.
But he wasn’t. Not really.
Sure, things hadn’t turned out exactly as they had hoped in Texas, but maybe there would be something buried in all the evidence that would eventually pop. It wasn’t like Humpty was just going to leave them alone now that he had their attention.
Who was he kidding?
He knew what this was about. The birthday card. He had received it yesterday evening, a light on his phone alerting him to a message waiting for him. He’d gone down to the front desk, and as soon as the concierge brought it out, he’d known what it was.
How had that old bastard known where he was?
Back when he was homeless and drifting around, it had been the same. Like clockwork, on the birthdays of his wife and all the children, he got a card. Apparently distance didn’t matter much to his father-in-law.
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