Karma

by RJ Blain

  “Sir?”

  “Is it true you began training when you were five?”

  “Six, but yes. It’s true.”

  “Your championships?”

  “Four of them, none affiliated with WAKO. The match I missed was supposed to be my first tourney with WAKO.”

  “How long would it take for someone to become proficient in kickboxing with lessons three times a week?”

  “What level of proficiency are we discussing?”

  “Able to defend themselves in real-life situations.”

  “Not long, sir. A few months for the basics? If the course is designed specifically for self-defense, it is all repetitions, muscle memory, and practice spars. It’s no different from other martial arts. It varies from person to person. It’s similar to how we go through firearms training and maintain our skills.”

  “Do you credit your skill in kickboxing with your success with this case?”

  “I definitely wouldn’t credit my swimming skills,” I muttered.

  Jake kicked my ankle. I kicked him back.

  Someone across the table snickered and coughed to cover it.

  “All right. I think we have what we need. If you think of any details, let us know. Do you have any issues with sharing a room with Agent Thomas?”

  In normal circumstances, if a pair of single rooms wasn’t available at the FBI’s hotel of choice, paired agents ended up sharing a room with two beds. Maybe other female agents cared, but I had no issues with Jake in the room with me.

  We were partners, and we couldn’t do a good job of watching each other’s back if we were in separate rooms, especially during a more dangerous case. We had come to that conclusion long ago, almost always sharing a room. “None, sir.”

  “Excellent. If you remember anything, let us know immediately.”

  Recognizing a dismissal when I heard it, I rose from my seat and headed for the door, pausing long enough to shake Dunhaven’s hand before making my escape with Jake at my heels.

  We sighed our relief in unison.

  “How about that pizza, partner?”

  “It better be good pizza,” I warned him.

  The news van was still hanging around the FBI office when we left, and I made a point of sliding as low in the seat of the loaner SUV as I could to avoid detection. “Damned reporters.”

  “They’ll back off when they either get an interview or can’t find you.”

  “How about we go the can’t be found route. I like that option. I’m not paid enough to be interviewed on the news.”

  “You’ve dealt with reporters before.”

  “Not when the vic was me,” I retorted.

  “Well, there was that one time you got shot,” he reminded me.

  “We weren’t partners then.”

  “Still counts. You were cornered by reporters then and did just fine.”

  “No comment repeated over and over again is hardly fine.”

  Jake chuckled and eased the vehicle around the news van. When he turned the corner, he said, “You should be clear.”

  “I’m comfortable,” I lied.

  “Bullshit. For the record, if you ever scare me like that again, I will hunt you down and pistol whip your ass.”

  Angry Jake huffed, but an infuriated Jake issued ultimatums, and I had no doubt he’d do as he threatened. “Maybe I was scared, too.”

  He spat curses. “Damn it, Karma. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I let my guard down. I was off duty. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I wasn’t there to watch your back.”

  “Uh, hello? Training for HRT? No shit you weren’t there to watch my back. You were doing what you were supposed to be doing, which was training.”

  “Technically still my partner until you reached New York.”

  “Technically not still my partner, Jake. We ceased being partners when we went off to different training branches.”

  “Bullshit. Once a partner, always a partner.”

  “Your new partner—or partners—won’t like you cheating on them, Jake.”

  “They’ll deal.”

  “Look, Jake. Stop being an ass about this. You knew the instant you partnered with me I was working to get into CARD just like you were working to get into HRT. Our partnership was a temporary arrangement from the start. Don’t make this difficult.”

  “I’m not. You’re the one being difficult. Accept it. A working pair like us doesn’t come around every day. We’re the showcase example of what a good partnership looks like, and you know it.”

  I sighed and slouched even more in my seat. If I went much farther, I’d end up out of my seatbelt and on the floorboard. “Yeah. We did good, Jake.”

  “We did better than good. We did great.”

  “You’re going to be a hell of an HRT agent.”

  “Do you think I should send sympathy cards to your new team? Maybe flowers? They aren’t going to know what hit them.”

  “You’re really going to be an asshole about this, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “When do you head back to training?”

  “I’m done training. Waiting for my official assignment. Part of the reason I was assigned to the case. The FBI may as well get what they’re paying for, right?”

  “I thought it was because you knew what went on in my crazy head.”

  “That, too.”

  “Did knowing what went on in my crazy head help?”

  “I told them you’d find the largest body of water and fall in without fail. I was right.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did. It’s true. Ask Mitch. He witnessed it. I warned them all you’d find a way to try to drown yourself. It’s like you’re attracted to trouble and deep water. Sure enough, first time I see you, you’re in the water trying to drown yourself. You scared the life out of me when you went under, by the way. I should have realized you were working your strip tease.”

  “You are such an asshole.”

  “No, a real asshole wouldn’t have jumped into that water. Fuck, if I had known how cold it was, I probably would have waited for you to doggy paddle to shore and fished you out that way.”

  “Keep talking, Jake. I will suffocate you with your own pillow tonight.”

  “Are you ever going to ask about our end of the case?”

  “I figured you’d get around to telling me eventually.”

  “Now you’re just being mean. Ask me, Karma. Ask me. I want to give you every little detail like the shameless gossip I am.”

  “Maybe over pizza. If there were any actual drama for you to gossip about, you would have already spilled it.”

  “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

  “No.”

  “You’re lying to me.”

  I snickered. “Would I do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Feed me pizza and I’ll take pity on you and ask. Just to satisfy you. It can be thanks for having to go into that cold, cold water.”

  “You are such a bitch, Karma.”

  “Karma’s a bitch,” I agreed.

  “You just punned me with your own name, didn’t you? That’s so wrong.”

  I grinned. “What can I say? It comes and goes.”

  “You did not just go there.”

  “Who, me?”

  Jake groaned. “You win. You win. Just don’t pun me any more. Please.”

  “That’ll teach you for withholding information from me. I’m expecting every detail served with my pizza, sir.”

  “All right,” I said around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. “Spill it, Jake. I want every little detail you can give me without being drawn and quartered for talking about it.”

  “I’m pretty sure they stopped drawing and quartering people a long time ago.”

  “Semantics. Talk, Jake. Talk.”

  “So, there I was. I’m lounging about at home because you were supposed to be driving to New York, and I didn’t have anyone else to bother.
Sunday afternoon television is a real drag, by the way.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Did I mention you were supposed to be driving to New York?”

  “I think I heard something like that from somewhere. Stop delaying. Get to the point.”

  “Spoilsport. Fine. I got the call around five in the evening. The boss told me I needed to get my ass to the office yesterday. Considering I wasn’t assigned anywhere, I figured something big was going on that was calling in off-duty agents. Anyway, I get there, I’m dragged into her office, and a printout of a photograph of you with a gun held to your head is slapped in front of me.” Jake grabbed a piece of pizza and devoured half of it before sighing. “Boss asks if I know the person in the picture. I tell her, ‘Sure, I know the bitch.’”

  “I’m not buying what you’re selling, Jake. Our boss would never do that. She’d show up at your house with the photograph, wave it in front of your face, and start screaming. Otherwise, she’d call you and clearly state the situation. Because it’s you, she’d probably say an agent was missing and ask you to come in to help.”

  “You’re ruining my fun again.”

  “Did you really expect me to believe that was what happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “The truth this time, Jake.”

  “How’d you know she’d show up at my house with the photograph? She didn’t scream, though. She did tell me to hurry up and get dressed. We went to the crime scene first to check in with the preliminary investigation, which was being handled by the local police department. They had called in CARD immediately, but no one had thought to identify the second victim—you—until an hour or two later. You were over CARD’s normal age group, and the local police were too distracted by the fact an infant had gotten snatched to get their heads out of their asses and go through your purse.”

  “The boss must have been pissed about that.”

  “Definitely. We lost a lot of time thanks to their blunder.”

  “Okay. Did you lose them at the Beltway when the cars split?”

  “Unfortunately. After that, we found nothing of use. Everything we got was a dead end, red herring, or otherwise useless. We didn’t even get any calls saying someone had seen a girl like you at all. It was unbelievably frustrating. Then, we got word from Colorado that a 9-1-1 call had come in, dead air on the line, and a couple of thumps with the added bonus of an incoherent groan.”

  “I was hoping that’d turn into something productive.”

  “It did. So, the cops go over to investigate, see the black SUV, and preemptively call in backup. Good thing they did, too. Ten minutes there, there’s a firefight, three dead perps, two injured cops, and a whole lot of leads. The mess of baby supplies confirmed it was probably the holding location, but when there was no sign of you or the baby, they called me in. I was on the next flight out.”

  “Why bring you in, though? That’s what I don’t get. Colorado is way outside of your general jurisdiction.”

  “Anyone who knows you at all knows how protective you get when there are kids involved. They wanted me around to talk you down if necessary. Of course, the SAR guy who reached the site first is apparently cut from the same cloth, because he immediately went to check on the baby. That’s how you ended up in the river, right? You saw him, freaked, and fell in.”

  I sighed. “Right.”

  “Good thing I was there. They probably would have let you drown a little before jumping in to save your ass.”

  “Can someone drown a little? Isn’t it an all or nothing deal? I’m pretty sure it’s an all or nothing deal. Thanks for not letting me drown, Jake.”

  “Anytime.”

  Chapter Ten

  When I woke up around dawn, I watched the news, one of my few consistent morning habits. Sometimes the media got something right and dug up clues that the FBI had missed. The habit had led to a breakthrough in more than a few cases.

  To my pleasure, I discovered the news station running a clip about the kidnapping. A representative from the FBI handled the press conference regarding Annabelle’s safe recovery, sparing me from having to make a public appearance. Instead, they directed focus to a clip of the reunion, which showed the entire family in tears in an elegant living room. Annabelle’s father was an older black gentleman with salt and peppered hair. His suit caught my attention, at odds with the rest of the family’s casual attire.

  When the report finished, I was counting my blessings they hadn’t displayed my picture for the world to see—or given my real name. From what I saw of the newspapers Jake had stashed in the hotel room, the newest picture they had printed was about six years old. They used my kickboxing nickname in all the articles and on television.

  It wasn’t as obscure as I wanted, but I appreciated the chance to continue my life with some hope of maintaining a sense of privacy. My involvement in Annabelle’s rescue was reduced to using martial arts to defend myself from our kidnappers and taking Annabelle to safety.

  I’d have to be careful to keep the white tips of my hair dyed, but it was a small price to pay.

  Jake chuckled. “Doesn’t look like it’ll be too bad for you, Kit Kat.”

  I had my doubts about that. “Someone will leak my real name. Just you wait and see.”

  “Probably, but it’ll blow over fast. There are pictures of you on the internet from witnesses who either caught a video of the kidnapping or took stills, but we couldn’t do anything about those. I warned them you’d flip your lid if your name was exposed.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jake’s phone rang, and he grabbed the device from the nightstand positioned between the beds. “Thomas.”

  When he sighed, I echoed him. Jake sighing after answering the phone was a bit like his huff. A sigh usually led to a huff, and about ten seconds later, he lived up to my expectations.

  “Understood. We’ll be there.” Jake hung up, clenching the device like he wanted to throw it across the room. “We need to go. Apparently, we’ve been booked for a flight back to Baltimore. It leaves in an hour and a half. Someone will be waiting for us at the airport to get us through security.”

  “How far away is the airport?”

  “Thirty minutes. Move it. Get your skinny ass into your skirt.”

  I flipped my ex-partner my middle finger, dove for the bathroom, and took the quickest shower of my life before wiggling back into the black skirt and white top from yesterday. At least I hadn’t had to worry about pajamas; Jake had my emergency travel bag from when we had been partners. In all honesty, I still had one for him, too. A few weeks after we had become partners, we had decided to keep duplicate bags of essentials for each other for when we had to travel and had no time to go home.

  While I was getting dressed, Jake took a fast shower. He opted for black slacks, dress shirt, jacket and a tie. He wore his gun in a shoulder holster. At least I wouldn’t have to go onto the plane feeling like I was the only one overdressed. I dug through his bag, found a second black tie, and wore it.

  “Now we’re twins,” I said, double checking my appearance in the mirror before stuffing the rest of my things into my travel bag.

  An FBI agent was waiting for us in the hallway, and he nodded to both of us. “I’ll take care of checking you out.”

  I saluted him and marched as fast as my heels allowed. Jake lengthened his stride to stay ahead of me, guiding me to the SUV he had on loan from the Colorado office.

  It was a good thing someone was waiting for us at the airport; the place was packed, and if we had had to navigate security without bypassing the lines, we would have missed the flight. The woman who met us handed me a black purse. It wasn’t mine, but when I peeked inside, I found a passport, my badge, and my wallet.

  In the bottom was a Glock, and I frowned at the presence of the weapon. “Interesting.”

  “You qualify to carry it on the flight,” she replied, pulling out a clipboard. “Sign.”

  I recognized the forms to confirm I had received the weapon and
my property, and I flipped through them, signing in the appropriate places. “Thanks.”

  “Have a safe trip.”

  She escorted us through security, directed us to the correct gate, and left.

  Jake peeked in my purse. “Fancy. I have one of those, too. Not fair. Yours is new.”

  My years of imagining worst-case scenarios bit me in the ass. I contemplated the reasons the FBI would have sent someone to kit me with a new gun, my badge, and everything I’d need to do my job. “This doesn’t actually comfort me at all. In fact, this worries me. They wouldn’t send someone to issue this to me when they could have waited for me to get to Baltimore. I could have gotten one in Baltimore. Why did they give me one now?” I realized I was rambling, hated myself for doing it, but the words kept spilling until Jake clapped his hand over my mouth.

  “I will gag you, Kit Kat.”

  I tried to bite his hand, but he cupped his palm to avoid my teeth.

  “Behave. What is it with you, anyway? You can’t swim, and the instant you get anywhere near a plane, your head goes right into the clouds. The plane isn’t going to crash. Take a chill pill.”

  “But I don’t have any chill pills. I’d take one if I had them.” I really would, too. Some things never changed. I always got a case of the jitters before boarding. I also got a case of the talkies, too.

  Jake was okay with the fidgeting, but once I started talking a mile a minute, he started huffing.

  “In the unlikely event of trouble, you being drugged would not be in anyone’s best interest.”

  “You really went there.” I glared at him and tried to bite his hand again. The way he had his hand cupped over my mouth didn’t do anything to muffle or impede my ability to speak, but it did draw attention from everyone else at the gate waiting to board. “People are looking at us.”

  “They’re looking at you. Specifically, they’re probably looking at your legs. Have I told you your legs are absolutely fantastic in that skirt?”

  I stretched out a leg to check out my calf. The heels made the muscles more prominent. “You think so? Look at my calves, Jake. They’re monstrous. I have yeti calves. Hairy and everything under the tights. How can you like yeti calves?”