by Lola StVil
“What things?”
“Things that they should have been sharing with their partners, but instead, they hid. They didn’t do it to be malicious, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The lying and the secrecy almost ended their marriage before it started. My sister-in-law Shay hid something from my brother Logan. She was going through some stuff, and she was determined to fix it by herself. She sent him away. And that cost them three years that they will never get back.”
“Are they okay now?” I ask.
“Yeah, they are, but only because they were able to sort it out. Baby, I don’t want us to have a misunderstanding like that. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, because you can.”
“You think I’m keeping something from you?” I ask over the pounding of my heart.
“I don’t know, are you?”
I look down but don’t reply. “Mia, whatever is going on, I won’t judge you. But you have to talk to me.”
I get up and start pacing the room. “What makes you think something is going on?” I ask.
“I get paid to observe things. It’s not hard to see that something is different with you. There’s also the fact that you changed your number and you added more security, and while I’m a fan of that, there’s usually a reason,” he says as he gets up and stands in front of me.
“It was a little thing, but I think I handled it.”
“Does it have to do with a client? Is that it? Did a client threaten you?”
“No client threatened me. I promise.”
“Okay, so this is all just you being more careful?”
“Yes.”
“And nothing prompted it?”
“No…”
“Okay, well I’m glad you upped your system. I want you and Aaron to be safe,” he says as he pulls me to him. Our lips collide in a series of breathless, smoldering kisses.
I want to enjoy this moment. I want to take in Jackson’s masculine scent and the feel of his strong arms around me. But can’t; I’m too busy with taking in the gut-twisting truth: I just lied to the man I love.
I know my girl is hiding something. I know it the same way I knew that there was something in Skull’s file that I was overlooking. It’s a gut feeling, and I always trust my gut. The fact is, sometimes that’s all a cop has. If I were working a case, I’d know exactly what to do. But since this is a personal issue, I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do next.
If I push the issue, then she’ll feel like I don’t trust her. If I let it go, it could come back to bite us in the ass. Now, if it does, and it’s a little sting, okay. But if it’s something that’s gonna take a big chunk of flesh from our asses, then I want to know about it now.
It’s not just my gut that tells me something is off. There’s more to it than that. It’s the way she’s been acting lately. She’s been jumpy and nervous. She double-checks her locks and holds her breath when her cell rings, and her shoulders only relax once she sees it’s me at the door. What the hell is that about?
I’m no mental health expert, but I know people. And I know that they don’t just wake up one day and change their behavior. In order for that to happen, there has to be some kind of trigger. A guy who’s been living on burgers and fries for twenty years doesn’t just wake up and decide to eat a salad. It’s experiencing slight chest pain, or worse, a heart attack, which forced him to change.
I could find out if I really wanted to, I know that. I have more than enough access to figure out what’s happening. But if I do that, then that makes me the douchebag who invaded her privacy. And what’s more, I need to know that she feels close enough to me to tell me. I want to be involved in her life. But how can that happen when she won’t talk to me?
I down my first and last beer. I don’t want to get drunk. I want some clarity. I thought I would be able to get it from Mia, but so far, nothing. I place the bottle on the bar and pay my tab. I’m about to head out and go home, but then I reconsider. I need answers, and home isn’t going to give them to me.
So, instead, I find myself driving over to my brother Logan’s house. He and his wife, Shay, had major trust issues. Like I told Mia, Shay had her reasons, but in the end, it was a hard road because she hid things from him.
I’m going over there because I need someone to say this stuff to and also because I want to steal whatever leftovers they have from dinner at Wyatt’s house last night. Wyatt is almost as good in the kitchen as he is in the field. So, naturally, when he makes dinner, we all line up to eat and sometimes steal from each other.
I pull up to the driveway and then knock on the door. Logan comes out. He’s not as handsome as I am, although there’s a rumor he might not be utterly hideous. Okay, okay, most women I know say he’s hot. Whatever.
“Fuck you want?” Logan says.
“A brother with better manners, for one,” I counter.
“Wrong house. You’re looking for Wyatt.”
“Fuck you!” I reply with a grin.
“Get the hell in here,” he says as he steps aside to let me in. I see Shay coming towards me with their baby, Miles. He has his mom’s wild, dark good looks. He giggles when he sees me. I greet Shay and pick my nephew up.
“Hey, put my kid down. I don’t want him growing up thinking the FBI is a worthwhile place to work,” Logan says.
“Don’t listen to my husband. You hold him as long as you want,” Shay says.
“I promise I will come back and babysit, but right now, I really need to talk to you,” I reply.
“To Shay or me?” Logan asks.
“What the hell would I want with you? When is SWAT ever useful?” I tease.
“Fuck off,” he replies. I laugh and hand Miles back to him.
“Seriously, I came to talk to Shay. The smart one in the house,” I counter.
“Oh really? Get the fuck out! Right now.”
“Yeah, like you could take me,” I reply.
“Any day, old man,” he counters.
“Logan, take Miles upstairs while I talk to Jackson.”
“What do you have to eat?” I ask.
“Don’t feed him; he’ll never fucking leave!” Logan says as he goes up the stairs with his son in his arms.
“You love having me. I make your life interesting,” I shout back.
“Shay, don’t you give him any leftovers from Wyatt’s. I’m gonna eat that tomorrow. Put a padlock on the pasta. Greedy bastard,” he says from the top of the stairs.
I follow Shay into her kitchen, and right away I begin to swipe all the good stuff from Wyatt’s dinner. I pile on the food, but I’m sure I’m gonna have to take it to go—my heart’s not in it right now.
“Everything okay, Jackson?”
“No. What the hell is wrong with you women?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She puts her hands on her hips and says, “Not a damn thing.”
I smile at her. I do like her. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Not even her pushy brother-in-law who raids her fridge and demands to talk to her. “I’m being a dick, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, kind of. But that’s okay. You’ve got a little credit left with me. I saw the raid—good job on the takedown. But seriously, did you call Wyatt for a flesh wound?” she teases.
“He was around the area, and the hospital did that,” I argue.
“Yeah, well you know the rules—”
“Yeah, I know. Only internal bleeding or actual death calls for getting the family together.”
“That or Wyatt’s food.”
“Yeah, that too,” I reply.
“Okay, so what’s wrong? Is it this new girl you’re seeing?”
“Her name is Mia.”
“Well, we don’t really know what her name is—Shelby hasn’t given her one yet,” she jokes. I roll my eyes. My sister-in-law has a nickname for all the women we marry.
“Well as of now, her name is Mia.”
“Okay, deal. So tell me about Mia.”
I tell her the basi
cs and why I’m frustrated. “I mean, I know she’s hiding something but why doesn’t she just come out and tell me? You kept secrets from Logan, why did you do it?”
“I wanted to protect him. And just to be clear, our situation was not the same as yours.”
“Why not? Mia is hiding something from me.”
“No, you’re hiding things from each other. Logan never hid anything from me. I did all the hiding because I thought it was what was best. I was wrong. And yes, Mia is wrong here because she needs to trust you and open up. But she’s not the only one who is wrong here.”
“What did I do?”
“Winter told me you can’t sleep. That usually has to do with work. Did you tell her about that?”
“Well…no.”
“Okay, and did you tell her about what Agent Green’s fiancée asked you to do and why you said no, and how that ended up?”
“No, I can’t tell her any of that.”
“Well, then help me out here, Jackson. How do you expect a woman to let you in when all you do is keep her out?”
“Ouch,” I grumble.
She laughs and says, “Yeah, you should have gone to Winter’s house. She’s much nicer.”
Although Shay’s blunt, she’s also sincere in trying to help me. I give her a quick hug and thank her.
“Hey, get off my woman,” Logan says, appearing behind us.
“You really picked the wrong brother,” I remark to Shay. She laughs. Logan spots the food on the counter and tries to take it back. And yes, we do fight over the food.
***
The thing about being stalked is you can lose all sense of what’s real and what’s just in your head. I was at the market, and I could have sworn there was a figure looming just a few yards from me. I could feel the person marking my every move, mirroring my every turn. So, I turned around to confront him, but he was gone. It could have been my mind playing tricks on me.
The day before that, I heard footsteps coming towards me in the parking lot of a department store, and I started running. The person began to run faster and faster. I quickly took out my mace and prepared to spray, only to find that it was the store security—I’d dropped my parking validation.
And then there was this morning, when I damn near electrocuted a cat because it was lurking in the bushes just outside my apartment. I called Officer Peterson, and he updated me by telling me there was no update. He said they are looking for Gorman but can’t seem to find him anywhere. He is keeping a low profile. The officer told me to sit tight and said maybe Gorman got sick of coming after me and took off. I could have explained to him all the reasons why that wasn’t likely, but I decided it wasn’t worth it.
I only leave the office building with building security, and I have given up on going out in the evening unless it’s in a group or with Jackson. That’s why I’m relieved when he calls and makes plans for tonight.
He wants us to have dinner alone before I meet his family. I was going to decline because my sitter couldn’t make it, but Argo wouldn’t hear of it. So, he’s spending Saturday night watching Aaron for me. I’m not sure what they have planned, but I am sure that something will be sparkled in my home that wasn’t sparkled previously.
Jackson picks me up at home and greets Aaron. The two of them had their own thing earlier. He took Aaron to the arcade after his homework was done. They had lunch at the restaurant connected to the arcade. Jackson swears that they didn’t overdo the junk food, but I’m pretty sure both of them were on a sugar high when they got back.
Jackson then greets Argo; soon Argo is kicking us out the door. Jackson won’t tell me where he’s taking me, says it’s a surprise. He walks me out to the front, where a car and driver await.
“Wow, our very own chauffeur?” I ask.
“I’m trying to impress you. Is it working?” he teases.
“I will let you know.” I smile back. The car takes us to Fourth Street in lower Manhattan. When we get out, I look up and see the restaurant I told him I was dying to try: One if by Land, Two if by Sea. I told him I was in love with their tasting menu; I saw it online and tried to get a reservation, but they were always booked.
I don’t particularly care for fancy, pretentious places, but this place has incredible food, an extensive wine list, and elegant, romantic décor. I told Jackson looking at pictures of their dining area actually made me regret being single—something I rarely felt. Before I met Jackson, I promised myself I would one day work up the nerve to go there alone—if the reservation list ever opened up.
“You remembered?” I ask.
“It’s something you wanted to try, and I want to be the one you try it with if that’s okay,” he says.
“Yes, that’s better than okay. Thank you,” I reply, getting on the tips of my toes to kiss Jackson. We enter the red door and are greeted with the scent of the freshly polished wooden staircase. The dining area has dark hardwood floors, and gleaming crystal chandeliers hang overhead.
The tables are decorated with crisp, stark-white tablecloths, candles, and elegant stemware. The focal point of the room is the brick fireplace and the baby grand piano. It’s only missing one thing.
“Where are the other patrons? Why is it just us?” I ask.
“I didn’t feel like sharing you tonight.”
“What? Wait, this is all just for us?”
“For you, baby; this is all for you,” he says just as we are shown to our table—which is basically every table. We are seated on the balcony that looks out onto the magnificent garden below.
“This is wonderful, but you didn’t have to do this,” I assure him.
“I know. I also know that I could take you to a dollar menu drive-through and you’d still be as gracious as you are in this place. That’s a hard thing to find in someone. I’m a lucky guy.”
“Well, Agent Hunter, color me impressed and smitten.”
We go on to have the most delightful meal I’ve had in a very long time. We chose the tasting menu, and each course was paired with a different wine. It was a seven-course meal, and by the end, I’m stuffed and happy. I thank him again for such a great dinner.
“I’m just happy we’re here together. Mia, someone pointed out to me the other day that I was asking you to open up, but all the while I was closed off. Well, I want that to change tonight. I’ll tell you something I’ve been trying to hide from, and I’m hoping it will help you turn to me—should you need the help.”
“This sounds serious,” I mumble.
“It is. I’ve never talked about it to anyone who wasn’t in my family.”
“Jackson, what is it?”
“There’s this woman, her name is Megan, and I killed her fiancé.”
I was supposed to start speaking and tell her everything. But nothing came out. She placed her hand on top of mine and suggested we go to my place. She thought I’d be more at ease. She was right. The moment we got to my place and settled in on the sofa, I felt better. I felt like I could say the things I needed to say.
“You knew changing the atmosphere would work, didn’t you?” I ask.
“It was worth a shot. Are you sure you’re up to talking?”
“Yeah, I am. I want us to be the kind of couple who actually talks about real shit,” I reply. She blushes and averts her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I’ve never heard you call us a couple before. I like the sound of that,” she admits.
“Yeah, me too. I’ve been single forever and it never even occurred to me to mind it. It was all about one-night stands here and there. It shocked the hell out of me that I wanted more with you—with anyone.”
“Same here. I haven’t bought a virtual cat in weeks,” she jokes.
“Argo will be very impressed.”
“Speaking of which, let me just check in with him for a minute. I want to make sure Aaron doesn’t talk him into anything crazy.”
“You think Argo would get played by a seven-year-old?”
“Last y
ear, I was out of town for a conference; I came back two days later to find Argo and Aaron hiding under the bed. My son had convinced Argo to watch a slasher movie marathon. Aaron was so freaked out I had to coax him out from under the bed with a pack of M&Ms.”
“And what did you use to get Argo out from under the bed?” I laugh.
“Coupons for MAC cosmetics,” she says with a big grin. I wait as she checks up on Aaron. Argo tells her that he’s been asleep for a while and that she can sleep over if she wants. He’s settled in for the night.
“So, what do you think? Is it okay if I stay over?” she asks.
“A gorgeous woman in my home, who loves me and wants to have sex with me? God, that sounds awful.” I smile.
“Then it’s settled,” she says as she hangs up the phone. “Now, talk to me; who is Megan and what happened to her fiancé?”
“His name was Robert Green; he was an agent. As you know, there are different departments that make up the FBI. Agent Green was an analyst. He sorted through a multitude of data and was among the best when it came to information gathering. He hated it. His dream was to be out in the field. Every chance he got, he was training and working his ass off to qualify for fieldwork.
“When it came down to it, no matter how prepared he was in other areas, he’d always choke on his firearms requirement. He’d get nervous, forget to breathe, and basically lose it. His hands got so sweaty that once he actually allowed a gun to slip from his fingers. He almost shot himself. He became kind of a running joke in the department. Guys would say things like, ‘Don’t Green the situation.’
“I felt bad for him, but I knew that not everyone was meant to carry a gun. He asked for my help, and I pointed out that there was more than one way to be of service. But he wanted field action, and I could see he would never stop until he got what he wanted.
“One day, we got some bad info, and had it not been for Green we would have walked right into a trap and gotten our asses handed to us. A few days later, I was at the gun range, and I saw him. I went over to thank him for saving our op, and we started talking. He was a very well-rounded guy. He understood more than just data. He had an insight into human nature and a keen sense of his surroundings. Those skills are imperative for an FBI agent in the field.
