by RJ Blain
I nodded.
When I didn’t elaborate, Jake flipped to the first page of the album and started browsing through the pictures, halting when he came to the first image containing a black SUV. “They like black SUVs, don’t they?”
“Seems like it.”
“Daniels told me you quit kickboxing.”
“Yeah. I figured I’d find a studio after moving to New York, but it didn’t work out.”
“You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, did you?”
“Pretty much.”
“I heard the story about the contacts.”
Grimacing at the reminder of how I had quit, I shrugged and stared at my hands so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“You earned yourself a reputation, you know. Again.”
I spun in the chair to face him and forced myself to look him in the eye. “Do I want to know?”
Jake was the perfect image of neutrality. “Patron Saint of Patience. You have a lot of curious co-workers on your floor. When word spread I had been your partner on violent crime cases, they came to visit me while I was snooping around in your office.”
“Find anything interesting?”
“Beyond the hundred or so receipts for pepperoni pizza?”
Had I really ordered that many pizzas? Probably. I had spent most of my time at the office, returning home to shower, change my clothes, and sleep. “What does everyone have against pepperoni pizza?”
Jake sighed, crossed his arms over his chest, and shook his head. “Nothing, except I know you like every topping you can possibly get on your pizza, including anchovies. You also like your pizza fresh, because you have a belief no human being should eat linoleum, which is what pizza becomes if sits for more than thirty minutes without being consumed.”
“So maybe I went a little overboard with the pizza thing.”
“Maybe?”
“Fine, definitely.”
“That’s a good start. Anything else bothering you?”
“When Daniels said he was going to find me a partner, I never thought for an instant you’d show up.” Saying the words was a lot easier than I expected, and once they were out, it felt like a weight had lifted from my chest and shoulders.
“I’m always up for a challenge.”
“That is why you applied for HRT when I applied for CARD.”
“We all make mistakes.”
While I couldn’t deny applying for CARD had led to the worst two months of my life, it didn’t stop his words from cutting deep. It took every bit of my will to keep my expression neutral when all I wanted to do was crawl under the bed, curl up in a fetal position, and cry.
Jake sighed. “There you go, assuming the worst as usual. My mistake was applying for HRT instead of CARD. With my background and experience, I would have made the cut. With our track record, there was a damned good chance they would have assigned us to the same team.”
I stared at him, my mouth dropping open while I tried to comprehend what he was talking about—and why. “What?”
“When Daniels called me in, he gave me a choice: I could work the case as an extension of HRT, serving as a protective detail for you while you tried to get yourself killed being stubborn, or I could join CARD.”
So many emotions boiled under my skin I couldn’t figure out which end was up. “They offered you a spot in CARD?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you joining CARD?” My voice rose an octave, and Jake arched a brow at me.
“No, I’m not joining CARD.”
Disappointment surged through me, smothering the rest of my emotions until I felt cold, empty, and devoid of life. “Oh.”
Jake was right to avoid giving up his position with HRT. He had worked too hard for it. So had I, but unlike Jake, I had drawn the short straw. I didn’t even know if things would get better or worse after the Jacobs case was wrapped up.
I couldn’t afford to think about it.
“I’m not joining CARD because I’ve already signed all the transfer forms, got a new identification card, and even an access pass for the building. Hard to join something twice. Though, I suppose if it makes you happy, I could join a second time. I’m sure Daniels would humor me. I can’t imagine why, but he actually likes you.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took me almost two hours to process everything Jake had told me, and he spent the time calling the organizers of the kids’ sports programs while I gaped at him from the computer chair.
It wasn’t one of my better moments.
When he finished the final call, I was still trying to figure out which question to ask first. He stared at me, grinned, and hopped to his feet to lean over me. “Your jaw has to be aching, since you’ve been trying to catch flies the entire time I’ve been on the phone.”
I snapped my teeth together.
“Are you really that surprised I showed up?”
I liked yes or no questions. I could nod, which I did over and over until Jake set his hand on top of my head to stop me.
“I should be offended by that, you know.”
Jake had a good hold on me, which preventing me from canting my head to the side. “You’d be stunned if I showed up for HRT.”
“I’m more stunned you actually tried to quit. Ask Daniels.”
I reached for my phone, deciding dealing with Daniels was a better option than trying to make sense of my emotions. After dialing his number, I held my phone to my ear.
“Is there a problem?”
“I need to verify some facts, sir.” Calling Daniels to regain some of my standing with Jake wasn’t entirely underhanded. Jake had challenged me to do it.
I was just doing what I was told—and testing to find out just how angry Jake was with me.
“Okay, go for it.”
“Jake claims he was stunned I quit.”
There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, which was followed by a snorted laugh. “He froze up like a statue, turned almost as pale as you, and stared so long I waved my hand in front of his face to see if anyone was home. That was when he started bellowing.”
“Bellowing?” I blurted.
If Jake was bellowing, he was beyond angry enough to start pistol whipping me. I worried, shifting my weight in the chair, wondering how I’d be able to patch things up enough with the man to get through the case.
Stealing the phone from my hand, Jake held it to his ear and said, “There is no need to tell her about that, sir.”
The theft of my phone distracted me from my thoughts and worries, as did the fact Jake was pushing down on the top of my head to keep me seated. “Hey! I was using that.”
Jake arched a brow at me. “Now I’m using it.”
“I can’t ask Daniels questions if you have my phone.”
“Quiet, woman. I’m trying to listen to our boss.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at him. “You’re being an asshole, Jake Thomas.”
“You earned it. I thought I was being nice. I gave you the chance to verify the fact I was, indeed, stunned by your decision.” Pausing, he listened to something on the phone. “He hung up on me.” Jake handed my phone back to me. “Nice phone. Much better than that old piece of shit you had. I could actually hear things without static. Anyway, Daniels said we should resolve our differences like the adults we are and stop bothering him. He’ll update us tomorrow morning unless there’s a break in the case. He’s busy coordinating between CARD and other divisions.”
Reality reasserted itself. Breathing helped, steadying my nerves and allowing me to turn my attention back to work. “We’re wasting time.”
Jake’s mouth twitched. Breathing only helped if I remembered to do it. When Jake’s twitching resulted in a smile, I relaxed. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Look, CARD’s on the move, and there isn’t a whole lot we can do tonight unless you have specific places you want to look. We may as well get an early start tomorrow and a good night’
s sleep. Breathe. And for the love of God, please put some clothes on.”
I stared down at my shirt and realized my skimpy top had slipped, revealing a little more cleavage than I had intended to show. Adjusting the material only shifted which sections of skin showed. “I have clothes on.”
“You wore more when you were kickboxing, and that’s saying a lot. Are you supposed to be undercover as a prostitute? If so, I have cash in my wallet and handcuffs in my pocket. I’ve never hired a prostitute before.”
I smacked his hand away from my head. “I am not a prostitute. I’d be wearing leather or something if I were posing as a prostitute.”
“If you’re not an underaged prostitute, what are you?”
“High school student?”
Jane took his time looking me over head to toe. “Please put some real clothes on,” he asked, his voice strained.
“I don’t see what your problem is. I’m covered, even when I bend over. I know because I checked.”
Jake coughed. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“What? It’s important to know the limitations of my clothing when working. If I can’t move well, I can’t watch my back. Don’t tell me you don’t check your clothes when you’re getting ready to work. I know you do. I’ve seen you stretching like a giant cat.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jake sighed. “You’re killing me here, Karma.”
I furrowed my brows and double-checked my gun was on the desk still in its holster. “No, if I were killing you, you’d be bleeding out on the floor.”
“Karma.”
“What?”
Sometimes, I just had to push Jake’s buttons as hard as he pushed mine, and the fact my legs and exposed stomach bothered him so much made it so easy.
He sighed again. “Never mind.”
“Are you sick? You keep sighing.”
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Turning away from me, Jake ran his hands through his hair before taking his jacket off and tossing it on his bed.
“I was wondering when you’d relax enough to get out of your jacket.”
“I’m going to end up with gray hairs because of you.”
“Jake, relax. You’ve seen me naked before.” Granted, the first and only time he had seen me completely naked, a perp we had been hunting had come calling in my hotel room while I had been in the shower, resulting in a very tense few minutes and an awkward arrest.
When Jake had burst into the room after hearing the gunfire, I had been straddling the perp’s back, my weapon held to the back of the man’s head, still dripping wet from my interrupted shower, in the process of reciting my would-be killer’s rights.
I had been covered in blood, too, a result of defending myself. Watching my own back had saved my life; if I hadn’t carried my gun into the bathroom with me, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.
Jake had insisted on sharing a room after that.
“You’re practically naked now.” Jake pointed at my chest. “Your bra is showing. Since we’re discussing your lack of attire, are you wearing pink panties? Is that thing made of strings? I don’t think Daniels meant for you to violate basic decency laws.”
I stared down at my cleavage and realized in my effort to adjust my top, I had made things worse. How had my underwear crept up over the top of my shorts? “He never said I couldn’t.”
“He didn’t say you could, either.”
“Unless he said I couldn’t, I can.”
Jake knocked his knuckles on the top of my head before crossing the room to his briefcase, which he opened, digging through it until he produced two sheets of folded paper. “Fortunately for me, I have a copy of the waiver here. Let’s see what we’re allowed to do.”
“He really gave you a waiver?”
“He said something about not pissing off the rogue agent. He then went on to say if I were under different restrictions, I couldn’t keep you out of trouble. Now, be quiet, woman. I’m trying to find the clause here that says you can’t dress indecently.” Jake scanned the pages. “No unnecessary killing has made the top of the list. Daniels is a wise man. No exposing government secrets. No betraying any law enforcement or government employees.”
“I wouldn’t even with a waiver,” I grumbled.
“There’s a note that any lethal force rules may be violated in life-or-death situations.”
“Is it highlighted and underlined?”
“No.”
“It probably should be. That seems important.”
“No grand theft auto? Ah, specific to the Corvette. Wait, why is it specific to the Corvette?”
“Flight risk?” I suggested.
“I can’t say I’d blame you if you ran off with the Corvette.”
“Is the same clause on your list?”
“Our waivers are identical.”
I propped my feet up on the edge of my bed. “I haven’t heard a single thing about indecent exposure yet.”
“It’s gotta be here in somewhere,” Jake muttered.
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Maybe I don’t want people looking at your legs and getting any ideas,” he snapped.
I reached down, grabbed hold of my ankle, and lifted my leg to get a better look at my calf. “So many hours practicing my doggy paddle really did some nice things for my legs, didn’t it?”
Jake glanced away from the sheet of paper in his hand, and his gaze locked on my leg. “I can count your ribs.”
“You’re not looking at my ribs,” I pointed out.
Jake cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the papers in his hand. A hint of red spread across his cheeks. “I could count them if I wanted.”
Relieved Jake didn’t seem angry with me anymore, I relaxed and lowered my leg to the bed, reclining in the chair and making myself comfortable. “All the rules involve things like stealing money from people, damaging property, and anything that makes the FBI liable outside of normal operating procedures. I read them several times. I can expose myself as much as I want.”
“That’s really not fair.”
“I could even prostitute if I wanted. That waiver is my free ticket to a very successful illegal career. I could make a fortune on the side before Daniels remembers he needs to cancel the waiver.”
“I have cash in my wallet and my handcuffs in my back pocket. Nothing in this waiver says I can’t put you in protective custody.” Jake wrinkled his nose, flipping to the second sheet. “He really didn’t include anything about prostitution or indecent exposure?”
“I tricked that elementary school principal. And cops. I have the rebellious high school girl act down to an art.”
“Is there a reason you decided to dress as an underaged prostitute?”
“Hey, it got Elizabeth to talk to me.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Kid from the elementary school. Tomorrow, I want to have a talk with a girl named Melly; I got the contact information from the principal. I’m hoping there’s a homeschooling network in this town.”
“Pursuing the runaway angle?”
“In part. If he has been picked up by Henry’s SUV-driving associates, I want to establish the timeline. If he hasn’t, I want to find him first.”
“You’re worried he hasn’t been grabbed yet.”
“That’s right.” I sighed. “I feel like I should be out looking for him. Now.”
“You need a real meal, good sleep, and time to relax. Unwind. You’re tense.” Jake tossed the papers onto his bed. “You look like hell, and not even all that makeup is able to hide it. You could have called, Karma. You know my number.”
“What would calling have done? What would whining have accomplished?”
“You wouldn’t have had to shoulder all that on your own.”
Calling Jake had crossed my mind when I had lowered my guard, forgot myself, and thought about the man, which had been every time I had ordered a damned pepperoni pizza.
I was truly pa
thetic.
“Come on, Karma. Talk to me.”
“I’m supposed to be able to handle anything.”
He huffed. “Haven’t you figured this shit out yet?”
I glowered at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Without any effort on his part, Jake picked up my feet and shoved them off the bed before standing over me, his hands clutching the armrests of my chair. He leaned over until he looked me directly in the eyes, so close I could count his eyelashes.
Damnit, the man’s lashes were about as pretty as his eyes.
For a long time, I stared at him and he stared back, and I forgot I was supposed to breathe.
Jake sighed again. “It means you call me. For anything. If it’s four in the fucking morning and you need someone to talk to, you fucking call me. You pick up that fancy phone of yours, you dial my number, and you call me. If I don’t pick up, you leave me a message, and I will call you the instant I get the message. Text me to call you, too. Have I made myself clear?”
Spluttering, I tried to lean back, but Jake held my chair in place. “Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?”
“Not particularly.”
“But why?”
“We’re partners, that’s why.”
“Hard to be partners when you’re in a different state in a completely different division of the FBI,” I reminded him.
“And I’m saying that’s bullshit. You should have called me. Here, there, wherever, you’re still my partner. You watch my back, I watch yours.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t call me, either.”
“You never retrieved your phone from evidence and no one—you, in case it wasn’t clear—thought, ‘Hey, maybe I should give Jake a call and give him my new number.’ You moved to New York. You didn’t even give your parents your number. I’ve talked to them more than you have!”
I stiffened as the realization he was right sank in. Calling my parents had been something I’d done from unlisted numbers, and once I knew I was destined for a dead-end career serving as an anchor for a team that didn’t want me, I had stopped calling.
Shame was easier to carry when as few people as possible knew about it. At first, I had kept my number private because I had been busy. Then I had kept it private because I didn’t want anyone to know my dream job was slowly killing me.
