DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Get it together, buddy. You’ve had a long day, that’s all.

  He glanced down the hallway. The other man was nowhere in sight. The steady clicking of fingers on a keyboard, drifted into the hallway. Robinson crept toward Amanda and hunkered next to her. Indecision gripped him. This wasn’t his place. He wasn’t this guy.

  But he should make sure she was okay. Because, no matter which way she viewed their professional relationship, he counted her as a friend.

  “Nettles,” he whispered.

  Nothing, not even a flickering of her eyelids. Oh, crap.

  He placed his hand in front of her mouth and nose. A long moment passed before a puff of breath hit his knuckles. Breathing. Check.

  “Hey.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her a little. “Time to wake up, Detective.”

  “Go ’way,” she mumbled, but didn’t open her eyes.

  “I promise, I will. First, do you think you can wake up a little more, Amanda Jay?”

  A hand flicked across her face and her eyes fluttered. “Jay is a guy’s name.” The sentence ran together like a tired first-grader had said it really fast and in another language.

  “Okay, Amanda Justine.”

  “Eww.” A quirky smile played at her lips, then fell as soft snores came once again. That plush mouth hung open in the corner.

  “You’ve forced me into it, Nettles.” He moved her legs off the couch and gripped both her shoulders. Then he lifted her into a sitting position and sat next to her. Dead weight sagged into his side.

  “Open your eyes and keep them open.”

  She complied, but only so her eyes were the barest of slits. The side of her body still leaned heavily against him, warmth radiating through his suit.

  “Do you know what a head injury is, Amanda Jocelyn?”

  “Wrong again.” Her eyes slowly closed. Her head rested on his shoulder. “Why do I care?”

  “I’m going to call the hospital, just to be sure she didn’t go back there,” Eric said from somewhere down the hall.

  Amanda looked at him then, but didn’t blink, her focus not on him, or anything. This wasn’t good. She could have a brain bleed or something worse. Handing her over to Eric should be his first order of business. But she’d run from Eric. Run from them all. And he doubted it had anything to do with an urgent need for justice.

  “Great idea,” he called back. If she didn’t snap out of it soon, they’d be headed back. She never should have left. The fact that she had, spoke volumes. Something had her spooked. He planned to find out what.

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right out.”

  “Sure,” he called. Then to Amanda, “Do you even know you’re middle name right now?”

  “Of course I do, silly.” She snuggled against his chest, her head resting just below his chin. Then she stretched her legs across his lap. Soft, half-snores came from her parted lips.

  Oh, wow. On impulse, his arm went around her shoulders, his hand threading in her hair. The faint scent of wild flowers lingered around her. He could get used to this.

  He stilled.

  No, he couldn’t. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know him from the next guy right now.

  “Don’t go,” she said when he shifted forward.

  “Sorry, hot stuff, women with concussions do not attract me. You’re gonna have to try elsewhere.”

  “What a liar.” She tried to settle back at his side.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he whispered. To her or himself. He didn’t know anymore. “Now, keep your eyes open and sit up, A.J.”

  “Only my mom calls me that.” She sat forward on the couch. Elbows propped on her knees, she rested her head in her hands. Her hair draped over her arms, creating a curtain that hid her face.

  “That’s great. If you don’t get it together, I’ll be forced to take you to the hospital.”

  An indelicate snort came from her as she massaged her scalp. “Already been there.”

  Robinson perched on the edge of the couch and leaned forward, so he could see her face. “Head hurt?”

  “Like someone set off a bomb inside it.” Her voice sounded almost normal now, her gaze stuck on a patch of carpet beneath her shoes. A sharp intake of breath stilled her hands.

  Amanda jumped off the couch, a slight hobble in her step. As if getting her bearings, her gaze raced around the room, then landed on him, crystal-clear. Steady. All-knowing.

  He didn’t move, but kept his hands clasped and hanging between his knees. This was the famous Nettles stared used on criminals. From the interview room. And from behind the courthouse bench. He’d seen it in action, from both father and daughter.

  Repenting of his sins—whatever they were—seemed paramount to survival.

  “How’d you get in here?” Panic bloomed on her face.

  “Eric. Told you he’d let me in.”

  “W-where is he?”

  “On a date with his email, the hospital or both.” Their time alone was at an end. “Tell me about that phone call, Nettles.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  He stood. The play of emotions on her face, ranged from wariness to fear until settling on a calm. She chewed the inside corner of her lip. Had she been anyone else, he might have believed she had her emotions in check, but he'd worked with her enough to know she was far from the soothing emotion. Why?

  Voicing the question on anything, but a professional level wasn't possible right now. Instead of continuing his investigation, the desire to eliminate the shadows from her eyes coursed through his veins. He was off his game, today.

  And it was clear she didn’t plan to give an inch.

  “Lawyer Boy,” he yelled. “I found what you’re looking for.”

  Eric came down the hall, his strides quick. Amanda’s head whipped toward the other man, that glorious hair fanning out around her shoulders. He reached her side in seconds and grabbed his girlfriend into a hug. Amanda didn’t move, her arms stuck at her sides as if glued there.

  Eric placed a hand on each shoulder and pulled back, his eyes roaming over her face. “I called every hospital in Charlotte. Where have you been?”

  “Here.” She pointed toward the couch as she moved out of his embrace.

  Eric tracked her finger, to the spot it pointed. The area on the couch Robinson had previously vacated. Those brown eyes flicked to him, accusation hanging in the wings.

  Can of worms, opened.

  Amanda’s gaze didn’t touch either man. Interesting. Something was way off. She didn’t hide. Didn’t do avoidance. Where was the knock-it-off-you-idiots stance?

  “I even called Jordan and McKenna,” Eric said.

  “No.” She hobbled toward the open kitchen, behind them and grabbed a glass from a cupboard, giving them her back. “Why?”

  The other man followed. “I couldn’t find you. You weren’t answering my calls and he,” Eric threw a fist, thumb out, in Robinson’s direction, “had no idea where you were either.”

  Amanda filled the cup with water from the tap, then turned. Her honey gaze lit on Robinson, unreadable. Then she focused on her boyfriend, her hip resting against the edge of the sink. “You know one of them will end up over here. And they’re both too busy to waste that kind of time.”

  Robinson shoved his hands in his pockets, determined to see this play out as long as the couple would allow.

  The hand with the glass in it, shook. Not enough that anyone would notice, if they weren’t looking for it. And she still hadn’t sipped any of the liquid inside.

  Eric’s mouth opened and closed, then he pulled his lips together, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask either of them to come. I asked if they’d seen you.”

  In the world of Robinson’s favorite agents, it was an invitation to invade Amanda’s life until they deemed it unnecessary. A strangled laugh sounded in the quiet. His.

  The couple turned toward him. Amanda’s gaze still shuttered, while Eric’s brows drew together as if Ro
binson had cursed in the middle of a church sermon. “Why don’t you ask your questions, Agent Robinson?” The other man crossed his arms, the silence pretty clear on what he could do after that.

  Get out.

  Fine by him. He took a step closer to the island separating them.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sound of McKenna’s voice floated to where Amanda stood, in the kitchen, as Eric let her best friend inside their apartment.

  While she loved McKenna like a sister, the last thing she wanted to deal with was the only FBI agent bossier than Robinson.

  More nosy, too, but not by much.

  The ache in her head had died down somewhat, but had been replaced by a not-to-subtle hum of discomfort throughout the rest of her body.

  Ibuprofen. STAT. She reached into the cupboard, to the left of the sink, where they kept the over-the-counter painkillers. Grabbed four and downed them with a tiny sip of water. One tablet lodge near the corner of her esophagus.

  A few more swallows of liquid cleared it, but left her stomach swirling. Closing her eyes, she braced herself over the sink.

  One breath in, one out. She clamped her lips tight.

  The intensity of Robinson’s presence was like the sun shining on her back, sans an ozone layer. If she turned around, he'd have a grim look that pulled his face into a mask of nothing, while he glared at her across the marble-topped island separating them. A hawk awaiting his prey.

  While every movement caused tiny knives to pierce body parts she didn’t know existed, she turned toward him. “How long have you been here?”

  “Ten minutes, max.” He didn’t uncross his arms or unclench his jaw. Those eyes watched her with stark determination, as predicted. Made her feel naked in an I-know-everything way.

  “I spent five of those minutes trying to wake you up. Going off, alone, with a concussion is stupid, Nettles.”

  “Yeah, it is.” McKenna entered the room. She marched over to Amanda and gave her a hug, which intensified the pounding in her brain. As if she were a water bottle releasing liquid, her stomach squeezed upward. Amanda swallowed quickly and took a deep breath through her mouth.

  “I thought I left you safe, in the hospital with Eric.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Everybody needed to stop touching her. She untangled herself and faced all three pair of expectant eyes. Eric stood behind McKenna and Robinson, arms folded across his chest and a permanent frown etched into his handsome features.

  “She’s not fine.” Robinson’s rough growl startled her. A small muscle in his jaw ticked, as if someone had endangered something that belonged to him. “She didn’t even know her surroundings a little while ago.”

  “Well, I’ve got my bearings now, Agent Robinson.” More panic twisted her stomach. Had she said anything incriminating?

  What if it didn’t matter? Besides Beth, Robinson had been the only other person who’d known she was meeting her foster sister for lunch at the café. Unless Eric knew all those things. Then, the three of them being in a room together couldn’t be good.

  Short of asking for their whereabouts, point-blank, she was stuck in a sickening cycle.

  Her head increased its death-march tempo. There was always the chance that whomever had blown part of downtown to smithereens wasn’t someone she knew all that well, or at all.

  But this guy knew her. Or thought he did. He’d made some well-educated guesses about her life. Amanda itched the side of her head and brought back a strip of something white. A sting started near her temple.

  “Don’t touch it.” McKenna grabbed a paper towel and placed it over the area.

  “I got it.” Amanda took the makeshift bandage from her friend.

  “Maybe Robinson’s right, Eric.” McKenna’s worried expression turned from her, lit on both men, and then rested on her boyfriend, who hadn’t moved since the other man in the room started talking. “She was involved in two explosions today.”

  “What?” Worry crossed Eric’s perfectly chiseled features, his brown eyes wide. “What do you mean, two?”

  Thank you, McKenna. Amanda met her friend’s sheepish gaze. The other woman shrugged, her palms upward in a how-was-I-supposed-to-know gesture.

  “I wasn’t badly injured.” She removed the towel from her head. A spot of blood stained the white tissue. “We got lucky.”

  “We?” Eric said.

  At the same time Robinson chimed in with, “Yeah. How did we get so lucky, Nettles? The C-4 was in your car.”

  “Excuse me?” Eric choked, his gaze flew to Robinson. “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Suspicion covered both of the men’s faces, possibly for different reasons. Or maybe this guy wasn’t working alone. Sweat dampened her forehead, a cold shiver running over her body.

  She took another sip of water. It got stuck in her throat. A cough shook her chest and made her stomach heave. She made it to the sink in time to throw up the contents, including the painkillers.

  “You have to take her back to the hospital,” Robinson said.

  “I think I can handle this without your help.” Irritation filled Eric’s voice. “Mandy?”

  A cool hand found her arm. “You’re shaking.” McKenna whispered as she gathered Amanda’s hair and held it out of the way. “Maybe Robinson’s right. You should go back and get checked out. Head injuries aren’t anything to mess with.”

  Amanda didn’t open her eyes as she shook her head. “Just swallowed wrong.” Her voice sounded like a child’s, small and fragile. Tiny pinpricks developed behind her eyelids.

  The men’s voices continued, but she couldn’t focus on the words.

  “What’s going on, Amanda?”

  “Nothing.” As if God punished her for the bald-faced lie, she dry heaved.

  The men’s voices rose an octave as McKenna handed her a paper towel. “Don’t lie.”

  She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not ever. “I…you have to get him out of here.” When McKenna might have questioned her, she said, “Please. Just do it.”

  “Okay.” The woman who’d been her friend since they were both in diapers, hesitated. “You’ll be okay?”

  Amanda managed a nod. “Call you later.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll be forced to come looking for you.”

  “Don’t worry so much. All that bad energy is going to affect the wonder child.”

  McKenna placed a hand on her rounded stomach, but didn’t take her eyes from Amanda’s. “This one’s tough. It's you I'm worried about.”

  “Call you later.”

  “You better.”

  As she turned away, Amanda flipped the water on and hit the switch for the garbage disposal. The heavy gurgle drowned out the trio’s words. The exhaustion was back on her shoulders, riding on the waves of throbbing pain, coming from her temples and snaking into her back.

  Eric’s tanned, muscular forearm came into view as he turned both the water and disposal off. “Can I get you anything?”

  She shook her head. Her brain swished from side to side like a peanut stuck in a tin can.

  “McKenna had something she needed to discuss with Robinson about a case, so they left. What’s going on? Suddenly, you’re involved in explosions, leaving the hospital without a word and dropping off the radar.”

  Using the wadded paper towel still in her hand, she wiped her mouth. Then she pushed off the sink and faced him. Worry knotted his handsome features. For the first time, she noticed his dark hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it several times. The black suit jacket, on his lean frame, held several creases as if he’d wadded it into a ball at some point, instead of folding it.

  After five years together, this was the most disheveled she’d ever seen him. Even on a lazy Saturday, his clothes were pristine. The perfection got to her sometimes.

  Their work dictated a certain level of organization. The courtroom expected to see a flawless lawyer in action. Captain Dentzen wanted her evi
dence air-tight and paperwork error free. But at home they were supposed to unwind. Be themselves. Share moments.

  “When I was fifteen, my family had a foster girl named Bethany.” The words spilled out, even as her brain tried to stop them.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, as if she'd lost her mind.

  Maybe she had.

  “She stayed with us for almost two years before her real mother came back to claim her. My dad hired a lawyer, hoping we could adopt her, but in the end, her mother won. We were all kind of devastated, because she fit so well with our family.”

  Eric tucked her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there, fingering the strands. “Your dad hired a lawyer?”

  She shrugged. Amanda didn’t know more details. Had never asked.

  “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

  “We lost touch, until recently. We were supposed to meet for lunch at the Rainbow café. That’s why I cancelled our plans.”

  Hurt and confusion covered his face. He dropped his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? I would have understood.”

  She didn’t have a solid answer for that, so she shrugged. In the past, she’d told him everything, but, in the last six months, something had changed. Instead of demanding they discuss what she saw as another addition to a huge problem, he pulled her close. He smelled like a combination of laundry soap and warm man.

  It was such a simple story, so why hadn’t she told him? Why had she avoided the topic?

  “You’re obviously in pain.” A large, warm hand rubbed her back. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”

  She nodded against his chest, her eyes drifting shut. She didn’t know how long they stood like that, his heart beating against her cheek. A familiar place that in the past, calmed her even when things were unstable.

  Did it still have the power to do so?

  The answer should have been a quick affirmative. Yet, nothing came to the surface.

  The mystery caller was wrong. She didn’t want to move on. She wanted to stay right here, even though everything seemed off kilter, today.

  “Any chance you’d want to discuss my lackluster proposal earlier?”