The Marshal

by Adrienne Giordano

  Big fella had her there. She opened her mouth, thought for a second, got nothing and blew raspberries.

  “Okay, well, can we hit the reset button here? I was surprised. And confused. I didn’t mean for it to become war.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed, scrunched his face and dug his hands into his hair. “I’m horrible at this. I’ve had this...I don’t know...thing...for you. For months now. Every time I see you I get this crazy feeling in my chest. I’ve never had that before. Maybe I got caught up in the moment or whatever, but I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

  She waited, desperately hoping some revelation would hit her. Nope. Nothing. But the panic was there, shooting up her arms and into her neck, making her face hot because she’d had a thing for him, too. Since that first day she’d seen him in Penny’s office, they’d simply clicked.

  Wait. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let herself believe he actually loved her. If she believed it, she’d start to want things. Things like the two of them sharing meals and secrets, grocery shopping, lazy Sunday mornings. A backyard with a swing set. The two of them making a life together.

  Worse, she could feel it. Those little moments when he smiled at her or teased her. That settled feeling she got when he touched her. All of them firsts. Firsts she hadn’t wanted to read too much into.

  Until he told her he loved her.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Jenna. I don’t expect that.” He shrugged. “Let’s see where it goes.”

  Oh, this had to be a trap she was about to step in. It couldn’t be that simple. “I feel it, too. Whatever that something is. I’m not ready to say it, though. It’s too important, and when I say it I want to know, without a doubt, what it means.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Well, this is crazy. Usually I’m the one needing the positive reinforcement.”

  He snorted. “Well, it’s new territory for me, too. I need to get used to it. Maybe enjoy a relationship for a change. Can we do that?”

  Relationships, even good ones, were never easy. Throw in a man with repressed feelings and a needy ex-beauty queen and it might be the worst combo ever. But what if it weren’t? What if, in some backward way, they balanced each other?

  That might be the biggest and most welcome surprise of her life.

  Brent waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Have I turned you to stone? You’re not saying anything.”

  “Yes. We can do that. It will require you to feed me, though.”

  She reached for the phone, but he brought her into his arms and kissed her. Nothing crazy and definitely lacking the intense heat they’d shared earlier, but these soft, gentle pecks promised more. These were the kisses of coming home at night, leaving in the morning, rushing to do an errand. Those wonderful and comforting everyday kisses she sorely missed.

  She backed away, setting her hand on his cheek. “I thought you were starving.”

  “I am. Just thought it was important to wait on it a sec.” He grinned. “Now order my damned pizza, woman.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  Still, she ordered the pizza. The extra-extra large. Just in case. She set the phone on the side table, and then glanced at the front windows and the open drapes. Perfect. At street level, in her bathrobe, groping a man. Great show for the neighbors.

  She moved closer, grabbed one of the drapes to flick it closed and—crash! She spun toward the window and all at once her mistakes hit her. Other way. Turn. Now. She swung her head to the right and covered her eyes, protecting them from the prickling shards of flying glass. Something hard and heavy bounced off her shoulder and skidded across her jaw, ripping at the skin before thunking to the floor. Memories of her brothers’ teasing—protect your face, beauty queen—roared back. Not-my-face, not-my-face, not-my-face.

  She staggered for a second, her head looping and spinning. Sudden warmth seeped down her cheek. Please, no blood. What if it’s blood? No blood.

  She brought her gaze to Brent, shook her head wildly because—dammit—her life had been spent primping, playing up her looks, using them to get ahead and...I’m bleeding. Pathetic, pathetic Jenna. Nausea consumed her and she held her arms out. Hold on. Hold on.

  “Jenna!”

  Brent’s voice. Eyes shut, she focused, listened for any sound other than his voice. No shattering glass, no thunking objects, nothing. Safety. She opened her eyes as Brent lunged for her, reaching for his gun while watching the window.

  Liquid warmth trickled over her jaw and she lifted her hand.

  “Don’t,” he said. “You’re bleeding.”

  Her face. Bleeding. How bad, how bad, how bad? Her looks were everything. Her first foot in any door, her ultimate weapon and now, if the seeping blood was any indication, she had a gash down the side of her face. One that might scar.

  Scars meant her mother would stand in front of her, checking every inch of that gash. Normally, she’d beam. Oh, look how beautiful you are. Perfection. What would her mother see now? Now she’d mourn perfection. She’d see the marring and the pain would be too much.

  “Are you okay?” Brent asked.

  Was she? No way to know. “Yes. Go.”

  He charged for the door. “Call 9-1-1 and lock this door after me.”

  She nodded, her head bobbing like some dumb waif. “Be careful.”

  Great. She’d just told a US marshal to be careful. Suddenly, she was his caretaker? He’d love that. Not that it mattered because she’d just been hit by—what?—she glanced at the floor and there it was, of all things, a brick.

  * * *

  BRENT HAD HAD ENOUGH. Whatever Jenna thought about that was too damned bad because she was done. Off this case. Now maybe she’d be convinced the gas-line incident wasn’t a fluke.

  After checking the perimeter around Jenna’s house, he hustled down the short hallway leading to her flat and rapped on the door. “It’s me. Brent.”

  The door swung open and there she was, still in her silky bathrobe, holding a washrag to her bleeding cheek. He checked her feet. She’d thrown on his sneakers, probably because they were the closest to her and she didn’t want to step in glass. The way he’d torn out of the house, he may have a shard or two in his feet, but right now enough adrenaline flooded his system to numb any pain.

  “I called 9-1-1,” she said. “Police are on the way. Did you see anything?”

  “By the time I got out there, they were gone.”

  She pointed. “It was a brick.”

  “I saw it.”

  And hadn’t that been a life-shortening experience? Standing there as all those shards, like airborne ice picks, flew at her. And the brick. That one freaked him out good. His pulse hammered and he locked his teeth together. A few inches higher and that brick would have clocked her on the temple.

  “Brent, don’t go there.”

  He straightened up, met her snappy gaze. “Someone just threw a brick at you. You could have gotten your head bashed in.”

  And he’d stood there watching, half-frozen.

  “But I didn’t.”

  Sirens drew closer—cops. Any second they’d come storming in and see Jenna in a thigh skimming, silky bathrobe that now hung open at the neckline to reveal a substantial portion of her mind-blowing chest. Distracting himself from his own imagination and thoughts of her dead on the living room floor, he waggled his hand.

  “Uh, you might want to put clothes on.”

  She glanced down, gasped and kicked out of his shoes. “I’ll just throw something on.”

  “Yeah. And I need to look at that cut. You may need a couple of stitches.”

  If they were lucky, that would be the worst of it. This time.

  No. There’d be no next time. Whatever argument she’d hit him with, he’d be ready. One thing was for damn sure. He was pulling Jenna off this case.

  Two hours later, Jenna sat on an ER gurney waiting for the doc to stitch up the gash on her cheek while Brent leaned against the wall, stewing. Every inch of him burned
. Continuous blood from Jenna’s face combined with the closed-in, putrid hospital odor didn’t help his foul mood.

  “Brent, you look fierce.”

  “Maybe because someone just tried to kill you. Or do you think that was a random act, too?”

  “Oh, my God, please tell me you’re not picking a fight with me after someone just trashed my house.”

  He paddled his hand in her general direction. “I wouldn’t have to pick a fight if I thought you’d be reasonable.”

  “How was I supposed to know someone would toss a brick through my window? And, if you’d relax, you’d realize someone is upset, which means we’re making progress.”

  Unbelievable. As much as he wanted to rip into her, he’d remain calm. Calm. “Do you not get that someone just hurt you?”

  With her free hand, she pointed to her cheek. “Trust me, I get it. Not only was my home violated, but I have to sit here and get my face, my ultimate tool, stitched up. So, don’t tell me I don’t get it. I assure you, I’m feeling everything I’m supposed to.”

  Great. Finally. Common sense. “Then we won’t have any problems. I’ll take you to my place or to your folks or wherever, but you’re not going home. By the way, your landlord is boarding up the window for you.”

  She jerked her head. “Already?”

  “Yeah. Your neighbor came over to check on you when you were with the cops. I gave her my cell number. She texted me a few minutes ago and said the landlord was there. Your place is secure, but I’m not taking you back there.”

  “So, that’s it?”

  Not in this lifetime did he think Jenna was giving in this easily. “Pretty much.”

  “You’re going to tell me where I can go and when. Are you going to change my diapers too?”

  If he were in a better mood he’d laugh. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you breathing, Jenna. Including taking you off this case.”

  Still holding the bandage to her cheek, she hopped off the gurney, marched over to him and squared off. “Don’t you dare. You cannot take this from me.”

  He stared at the wall behind her, focused on the sign explaining patients’ rights. If he looked at her, he’d probably find those baby-blues pleading, working him like she worked every other man with a pulse.

  “I can and I will.”

  “Look at me.”

  He glanced down, then away again. As good as she’d get.

  “Fine. Don’t look at me, but on a purely professional level, if this were anyone else, you wouldn’t do this. If I were a man, you wouldn’t do this. If we hadn’t slept together, you wouldn’t do this.”

  “I’m not going to argue that.”

  “Damn you!”

  Finally, he looked into those firing blue eyes that should have peeled flesh off him. Settle her down. He reached for her, but she snapped her arm away.

  “Hey, I refuse to let you wind up dead. Simple as that. Be mad at me if you want because, in this case, I don’t care.”

  “You are so stubborn.”

  Again, he wouldn’t argue. She stomped back to the gurney, hopped up and pulled the bandage from her face to check it.

  “Still bleeding,” he said. Precisely why he’d talk to Penny and pull her off this case. “This is too dangerous now. It’s no coincidence you got hit with a brick.”

  “You’re firing me because I got hit with a brick?”

  Simple as that. “Yes. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Oh, of course you will. You get my help in making progress and now you want to shove me aside.”

  “No, I want to keep you alive.”

  Outside the room voices erupted, something about a GSW—gunshot wound—and Brent figured they’d be waiting awhile yet.

  Time to fix this. This time, he’d go for the softer approach and hope that her level of fatigue would get her to back off. He wandered over to her. “Honey, listen to me.”

  “Don’t honey me.” She poked him—hard—right in the chest. “You.” Another poke. “Can’t.” Poke. “Do this to me.”

  Yes, he could. He wouldn’t stress that. With the look on her face, he might be the next gunshot victim here. “Jenna—”

  “Please,” she said, her voice tight and strangled, life dripping out of it. “Please, don’t do this to me. I haven’t craved a lot of things professionally. Joining the FBI was the only thing, and I fell short. After that, it’s been tiny victories. Little milestones. Until your mom’s case.” She focused on him, those blue eyes not nearly as hard. “I need to see this one through, Brent. Please.”

  I’m burned. Done. He dropped his shoulders and stared down at the floor. Option one: give in and let her finish this. Option two: don’t give in and have her never speak to him again.

  Option two stunk.

  It would also keep her alive.

  Gotta do it. He faced Jenna again, took in her sad eyes and knew this would hurt.

  “I handled that wrong. I’m sorry. I’m worried about you. And you getting hurt was not part of this assignment.” He tugged on the ends of her wild hair, then swept the long strands back over her shoulder. “I want you in one piece. That’s all.”

  “I know. And I love that about you. But I need this.”

  “I’m sorry, Jenna. I’ll call Penny and have her go to your place. Pack you a bag. Or I can do it. Not sure you want me rifling through your stuff, though.”

  The curtain flew open and Penny and Russ stepped in. Jenna leaned back and Brent dropped his hands. Penny’s laser-sharp gaze whipped between the two of them. For once, considering it was ten o’clock at night, she wasn’t wearing one of her power suits. For this trip to the ER she’d dressed down in slacks, a crisp white shirt and heels. Russ stood behind her in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “I heard my name,” Penny said.

  Jenna threw up her hands, revealing that still-bleeding cut on her face. “Really, Brent?”

  “Hey,” he said, “she’s your boss and your assignment put you in danger. You can bet I called her.”

  Penny marched over to Jenna and inspected the cut. “Jenna, that’s nasty.”

  “Gee, Pen, thanks.”

  “Sorry.”

  “She needs stitches. They’ve got a GSW down the hall. Guessing we’ll be a while.”

  “Penny,” Jenna said, “he’s going to try and talk you into booting me from this case. I’m telling you right now, I won’t be happy if that happens.”

  Brent drew air through his nose before his mind left him and he started yelling.

  Women. Always hassling him. His phone rang—thank you—and he dug into his pocket. “I’m taking this. It’ll give us a second to cool off.”

  On his way out of the room, he gave Russ the shoot-me-now look.

  If he got her out of here and she was still talking to him, much less having any interest in pursuing their personal relationship, it would be a minor miracle.

  Barring that miracle, at least she’d be alive. He’d be okay with that.

  Even if Jenna wasn’t.

  * * *

  THE SECOND BRENT stepped into the hallway, Jenna went to work on Penny.

  “He’s freaking out because I got a brick through my window. You and I both know I’ve been in much more dangerous situations than this. We know it. I can take care of myself. All this incident means is we’re getting close to something we’re not supposed to get close to. The fact that it was a brick can’t be ignored. I’ve scared someone, possibly the killer and when people are scared, they make mistakes. Mistakes that leave evidence to convict them.” She looked at Russ over Penny’s shoulder. “Tell her.”

  Russ held up his hands. So much for him helping.

  She went back to Penny. “Please. Don’t pull me off of this. I’ll take precautions. I’ll make sure I always have someone with me. I’ll even stay with my folks. Well, maybe not them because my dad will freak, but I’ll find somewhere safe to stay. Please, Penny. I need this.”

  Penny stared right into her eyes. Assessing. Good. If s
he’d already made up her mind, she would have said so. Hesitation from her boss might be the opening Jenna needed. One she could exploit.

  “Give me another week. Earlier tonight we dropped a brick off at the lab. I think it’s the murder weapon. It’s unlikely we’ll get prints off of it, but DNA is possible and maybe we’ll have our murderer.”

  “Nice work, Jenna,” Russ said.

  “We found it under the porch at Brent’s mom’s. The sheriff came with us to keep the chain of custody intact.”

  Russ moved closer. “That’s why you got a brick through your window.”

  But Jenna kept her focus on Penny, who continued to stare at her. “Yes. I can handle this. Please. Tell him I can handle this.”

  Apparently, that was all her boss needed. Penny turned to Russ and he gave her the all-purpose eh face. Distract them.

  “And, Russ,” Jenna said, “I’d planned on calling you earlier. Can you help me track down Brent’s father? I tried the number Brent gave me, but it belongs to someone else now. I could dig around, but it’ll be faster if you do it.”

  “Now you want the big man mad at me, too?”

  “Sorry.”

  “What about the junkie?” Penny asked.

  Now they were back to Jeffries. Jenna was fairly certain he was a dead end.

  “I’m not ruling him out yet. I need to talk to Brent’s father and see how I feel about him. Then I can start focusing on one or the other. If we get DNA off that brick, we might have a slam dunk, but that might take a few days, and I don’t want to lose momentum.”

  Brent stepped back into the room and they all shut up.

  “Suddenly everyone gets quiet.” He glanced from Jenna to Penny and then to Russ. “What momentum?”

  For whatever reason, Jenna didn’t want to talk about this in front of him. Call it survival, call it protective instincts, call it whatever, but she didn’t think he needed every detail. He’d said himself that he couldn’t wrap his mind around his father hurting his mother. “We’re talking about the brick.”

  “Huh, I’m sunk now if even Russ is quiet. No way I’ll win against all three of you. Even if I am the client and want you off this case.”