Flash Point

by Brooke Blaine

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man in the chair said. “Sit down, please.”

  The pounding of her heart and the feeling of adrenaline to get away took over. She stepped back, ready to turn and pound on the interrogation room door, but the man’s voice turned angry.

  “I won’t hurt you today, but all bets are off if you make a sound. We have something to discuss, you and I. Sit.”

  His tone brooked no argument, and she hesitated between trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her there in the middle of a police station with her father only feet away and risking his wrath, whatever that would be. He sat almost directly in front of the room she’d need to get to anyway, and she knew she was trapped. Moving to the far end of the row of chairs, she perched on the edge of one.

  “It must be a torturous fate, knowing that you should’ve died and having to live without that which brought you into the world.” He twirled the ring on his finger, not in a fidgeting way, but almost like it was a way to keep his hands from doing something more violent. Something like snapping her neck like a twig.

  “Who are you?” she managed to ask.

  Shaking his head, he said, “You don’t want to know the answer to that question, I promise you that.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap to mitigate the trembling that had begun to take over her body. “What do you want with me?”

  “Now that’s a better question.” Turning his body, he propped an elbow on the back of the chair. “You have something very precious in your care. Something that could do harm to the people I’m sworn to serve. I’m here to make sure you keep quiet.”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But I think you do.” He twirled the ring on his finger again, and when she glanced down at the movement, he stopped.

  That was when she remembered the ring that had flown off from the man’s hand that night…it had gone… Wait. Where had it gone? The panic room?

  The confusion on her face must’ve been evident, because he said, “Ah. Is it all coming back to you now? Shock will do that. You know where it is, don’t you, poppet?”

  The urge to be sick was rising as she thought of the ring in that room. The one she’d forgotten about in her numb state over her mom. The one the police obviously didn’t find in the search. And why would they? She hadn’t told them about it, and the crime scene was in the hallway, not the panic room.

  Bending over, she covered her mouth, dry-heaving since there was nothing in her stomach after days of not eating.

  “Shh, let’s not make a scene. Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to warn you.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to get herself back under control, but it felt like someone was sitting on her chest. “Warn me?” she gasped out, tears stinging her eyes.

  “We can agree that little piece of evidence would be quite…incriminating, would it not?”

  Biting her inner cheek to stop her teeth from chattering, she lifted her head to face him.

  “Yes or no, poppet? Use your big girl words.”

  Breathe. Just breathe, she thought before giving a small “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, you wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you or your dad, now would you?”

  Her chest was rapidly rising and falling as she fought to keep her panic in check. Swallowing, she said, “No.”

  “Right,” he said with a plastic smile. “I’m here to make a deal with you. Keep quiet about what you know, and we’ll let you and your daddy stick around.” When she looked up at him, his smile fell. “I don’t think I need to tell you the alternative.”

  Shaking her head, she asked, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

  “Ah,” he said, sitting back in the chair. “Your father could be useful to us in the future. But if not…well, it’s sort of a game, really. You’ll always be looking over your shoulder, wondering if we’ll come back. A fate worse than death, that’s what you’ll have. You could say your mom was lucky.”

  “Lucky?” she asked incredulously. A raised eyebrow from him had her wanting to scream and cry for help. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she forced herself to try to understand what he was telling her, though nothing about any of this made sense. “So what you’re saying is…if I don’t say anything…you’ll leave us alone? That’s it? You’ll go away and forget we exist?”

  “Wellllll,” he said, and clucked his tongue. “I don’t think the Shaw family could be so easily forgotten. But for the purposes of this deal, yes.”

  She tried to rub the goosebumps on her skin away. “I don’t understand…why you want to hurt us. Why you killed my mom.”

  The man stood up. “That’s none of your business, poppet. I hope we won’t be meeting again.”

  As he began to walk away, the hysteria she felt took over, and she wrapped her arms around herself, one hand rubbing her chest to ease the pressure that was increasing. “They’ll find you all anyway,” she said under her breath, more to herself than to him. “They’ll find you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a smirk. “I can assure you—they won’t.”

  “I went home and searched the panic room until I found it,” she said. “It’d gotten lodged in the back between my mom’s paintings. There were still drops of her blood on it, and I couldn’t bring myself to wash it off. I picked it up with a jewelry pouch I’d kept my pearl necklace in, and it’s been in there ever since. I checked on it every now and then to make sure it was still there, but seeing as we were still alive, that was a pretty good sign they hadn’t come back.”

  She ripped the paper out of her sketchpad and pulled a lighter out of her pocket. With a quick flick, she set the tip on fire, watching until it burned into nothing. Then she blew the last of the flame out and put the lighter back in her pocket. She looked up at Jason to gauge his reaction.

  “You draw that often?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you burn it every time?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He blew out a long sigh and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his head. “You said the guy had a distinctive mustache. You remember what he looks like specifically?”

  “I do.”

  “You ever draw him?”

  “I could draw him now,” she said, picking her pencil back up and flipping to a fresh sheet of paper. Her hand flew across the page, her memory of him still strong even after all these years, as well as from the repetition of sketching him so many times before. A few minutes later, she stopped and pulled back to give him a good view of the man who’d threatened her that day.

  Jason studied the picture, his eyes hard and taking in every detail. “You ever see him again?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of. I’m sure he’s been watching. Him or…someone.”

  When he moved back from the paper, she ripped it from the pad and pulled the lighter back out. “I just wonder…” Setting the paper on fire again, she continued, “I wonder why. After all this time…and I’ve never said anything. Why did they come back for it now? Why the threats? If they’d wanted to get to me or my father, I’m sure they could’ve.”

  “It’s a game,” Jason stated when she blew out the last of the flaming paper. “Psychotic people don’t usually make a lot of sense, so they’re playing with you.”

  “Why? What did we do, Jason?” she asked, unable to stop the words from pouring out. “How do we deserve any of this?”

  “You don’t deserve it.”

  “No, we don’t,” she snapped. “And you don’t know why, I don’t know why, my father doesn’t know, the cops don’t know. No one can figure out a damn thing, and now what? You’re supposed to be my bodyguard every day for the rest of my life? That’s not a fucking life.”

  “You’re right, it’s not.”

  “I feel like this is all just a countdown to something. Some moment, some point where everything comes together, and then bam—we’re dead.�
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  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t think very highly of what it is I do, do you?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Katherine…” he started, and then stopped himself. “This won’t be the rest of your life.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “So stop trying to make me feel better about my inevitable end. It won’t work.”

  Shrugging, he said, “Yeah, you’re right. I should just start the dead-girl jokes now.”

  She didn’t crack a smile, and his face turned serious as he leaned toward her. “Nothing will happen to you on my watch,” he said, his tone solemn. “Tell me you heard that.”

  He seemed so sincere, as if he truly believed it, and it made her want to believe too. And why shouldn’t she? He was indomitable. She couldn’t fathom anyone besting him at anything, not even the terrifying mustache guy. He could probably kill someone with a glance if he wanted to. “Yes,” she said, and then cleared her throat. “Yes, I hear you.”

  “Good.” He sat back and then gave her a side eye, his lips twitching as he tried to hold back a smile. “Can’t promise anything on Kirkpatrick’s watch, though,” he said, and then laughed when she smacked him hard on the arm.

  FRIDAY NIGHT AND this was what her life was relegated to. Studying the most eye-stabbing schoolbook ever and eating stale popcorn for dinner. Well, studying if you counted rereading the same page twenty times. At least she had a rewarding piece of eye candy sitting on the other end of the room in the armchair. Although Jason was probably the reason for the distraction in the first place.

  After the flirting and her revelations last night, she didn’t know what to expect tonight, but he was acting like nothing had happened. Enigmatic as ever, and damn if that wasn’t frustrating as hell.

  She tried in vain to focus, but her eyes kept looking up at him every time he turned the page of the book he was reading. She’d glanced at the cover, but it was some military biography that didn’t look much more appealing than her book.

  He flipped to the next page.

  That was it. It was impossible.

  “Fuck,” she said, throwing her book on the ground. “I hate this.”

  Jason lifted an eyebrow in response.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, and honestly, all you need to know about management is how to tell people what to do. Like I need help with that.”

  “That’s not an arrogant attitude at all.”

  “You think people choose this major to be the low man on the totem pole? Hell no. They’re aggressive assholes.”

  His lips twitched. “So you’re an aggressive asshole.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And you hate your classes.”

  “Yes, I hate my classes.”

  After bending the corner flap of the page he had been reading, he closed the hardcover and said, “Katherine.”

  “What?”

  “Why the hell would you choose something that makes you throw books?”

  Good flippin’ question.

  She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what to choose, so I just picked one.”

  “You just picked one,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, you know. Eeny-meeny-miny-moe picked one.”

  Sighing, he bent over and groaned as he rubbed his face with both hands. “Why do I feel like that’s not a joke?”

  She shrugged. “’Cause it’s not. Steven watched me do it.”

  “Ah yes, Steven. Doesn’t he ever call you out on your bullshit?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nah, of course he doesn’t,” Jason said under his breath. “That’s your problem.”

  “Steven is my problem?” she asked incredulously.

  “Being surrounded by kiss-asses is your problem.”

  She slammed her pen on the table. “Do you think maybe a whole day could go by when you’re not insulting me?”

  He leveled his gaze on hers. “That depends.”

  “You know what? I’m sure whatever you want to add to that is nothing I wanna hear, so please don’t elaborate,” she said as she rose and began to gather her books. “You’ve called me bratty, annoying, surrounded by kiss-asses… Did I leave anything out? I mean, the flattery is really getting to be too much—”

  “Pain in the ass,” he announced. When she halted and stared at him, he pushed off his chair and sauntered toward her. “You forgot to add pain in my fucking ass, Miss Shaw.”

  “Suddenly I’m Miss Shaw again?” She raised her chin defiantly.

  He grabbed a book out of her arms and tossed it on the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, and hugged the remaining books to her chest. He stole them away from her with ease and dropped them on the floor before taking a hold of her elbow and walking her toward the front door.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  She wrestled out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I have to study.”

  “Study a subject you hate,” he stated, his eyes boring into hers.

  “Well…yes,” she said, hating that one look from him and he had her second-guessing herself. Ugh. Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous, especially when he’s being a jerk? Stupid gorgeous eyes. Stupid gorgeous mouth.

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what you do, okay?” she said in a huff, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You go to an expensive college, you pick an absurd major that will please your parents, or in my case, piss them off, and then you end up in a job where you’ll never use that degree but spend the next twenty years paying off your student loans.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare.”

  “No, a nightmare is—” She stopped herself before she could utter the words that had almost tumbled from her lips. In her aggravation at him and at school, she’d pushed the memories of her mom to the back of her mind. They came crashing forward then with a vengeance, and she rubbed her forehead. “You know what? Never mind.”

  When she tried to turn away, Jason took a hold of her arm again and then pulled the keys out of his pants pocket.

  “Don’t fight me on this, Katherine,” he warned her. “We’re going.”

  * * *

  “OH MY GOD,” she said, her voice muffled as she moaned around a large bite of pizza. She leaned back and closed her eyes, savoring the delicious mix of cheese, bacon, mushrooms, and fried dough. “I hope heaven has Saucelito’s.”

  When he’d forced her to leave the house, she thought maybe he’d finally had enough of her and was ready to dump her on her father’s doorstep and wipe his hands of it. But then he’d driven her to her favorite pizza place and ordered her a large with her staple toppings on it without even asking. And then he’d gotten one for himself.

  If she hadn’t been so busy drooling, she would’ve kissed him. Well…maybe she’d try that later if she felt like pushing her luck.

  Jason was licking sauce off his thumb, and he made even that look sexy. “Not bad, Shaw, not bad. I think you’re depriving yourself by getting mushrooms instead of sausage, but that’s why I got my own.”

  She gaped at him. “I know I did not just hear the impenetrable, humorless Jason Garrett tell me I need to eat more sausage.”

  “I think you’d be more pleasant with a sausage in your mouth, yes.”

  “Holy fuck.” Her eyes were practically bugging out of her head, and she was trying hard to ignore the heat that shot down between her thighs with that statement. Squirming in her seat, she asked, “Who are you and what did you do with my bodyguard?”

  He laughed and picked up another fully-loaded-with-all-the-toppings slice. “I can see why you kept this to yourself.”

  “It’s a public place.” Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. She hadn’t seen this side of him yet—the relaxed, smiling, almost ordinary human being. He was even in jeans and a lightweight olive sweater that he filled out to perfection, and it hadn’t escaped her attention that
he’d listened to her suggestion about ditching the suit. It also hadn’t escaped her attention that every female in the room was glued to his every move.

  “This is what you normally do on Friday nights, sans bodyguards,” he said. “It’s been a few weeks, so I’m guessing lack of pizza gorging is to blame for your…endearing mood.”

  “Hey!” She flung a mushroom in his direction, hitting him squarely in the neck. He didn’t even flinch, merely peeling it off and tossing it in his mouth before picking up a sausage from his slice and holding it up. “If you think I’m wasting one of these by throwing it at you, you’re out of your mind.” Then he popped it in his mouth.

  “So you’re stingy with your sausage…”

  When both of his hands were occupied lifting the massive slice to his face, she quickly reached across the table to steal one from his plate, but his hand clamped down around her wrist so fast she didn’t even have time to blink. There was a twinkle in his eye as he told her, “You’ll have to work a little harder for it than that.”

  Swallowing hard, she stared at him. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, the heat from their connection so scorching it was as if he was branding her. Which, in that moment, she wouldn’t have minded one bit. His eyes were still on hers when she heard her father’s name.

  “…Some say Justice Shaw is too biased to continue overseeing the case, citing the brutal slaughter of his wife, Elaine, and attempted murder of his daughter, Katherine, five years ago. That case has never been closed, and there are no current leads, though many believed the murder was retaliation for the death sentence Justice Shaw upheld in the Oliver Graham case. Oliver, the son of alleged kingpin Warren Graham, was found guilty and sentenced to death row for his part in the Sawyerville murders, which some claim was a drug deal gone bad. There has never been any evidence, however, that the Grahams had anything to do with—”