Eating rated so low on her list, looking at the Reuben sandwich she’d ordered made her stomach clench closed, as if she had a bad case of acid reflux. Falling into fitful sleep, alone, wasn’t doing her any favors, either. There wasn’t enough concealer on the planet to disguise the dark circles under her eyes.
“I thought maybe you’d bring Baker Jackson again.” Beth’s cheerful voice broke into her thoughts.
“No.” Amanda glanced at the other woman and her husband. “I was crunched for time and working during our last visit.”
“What about Eric? I’d like to meet him.” Beth poured a minimal amount of dressing on her house salad and began cutting the greens into bite-sized portions.
Amanda spread a napkin across her lap. “Maybe next time.”
Eric’s refusal this morning, still weighed on her mind. He hadn’t even given it any thought. Hadn’t looked up from his computer, in the spare bedroom, when he’d told her his schedule wouldn't allow it. “He’s with the DA’s office, so he’s pretty busy this time of day.”
When had they started excepting each other’s excuses? Too busy. Working a case. Helping Robinson. Staying late. Those things used to come paired with celebrations for the promotions, wins, and criminals put behind bars.
“Beth tells me you’re with the police department,” Guy said. He took a large bite of the burger he’d ordered, his bald, tanned head, bowed over his plate for a second. One of his hands encompassed the entire bun with little room to spare. He finished chewing the bite. “I bet that’s an interesting line of work.”
“It is.” Amanda lifted one half of her sandwich, took a small bite and forced herself to swallow. “Keeps me pretty busy, but it’s boring compared to a job with the NFL. Have they found a new stadium to hold the game at, on Thursday?”
Beth set her fork aside, the smile sliding from her face. Guy grabbed her hand and squeezed, a silent message coursing between them. “We’ll play at UNC’s field. It can’t hold quite the same number of people as the Wright Stadium, but it will ensure we have a place to play, for the time being.” He looked at his wife, concern and love radiating in her direction.
Beth stared at her plate and sniffled. “Don’t mind me.” She sipped her water. “Just pregnancy hormones.”
“Don’t worry so much,” he said. “Eat before you starve our child.” He placed a hand on her rounded stomach. Their eyes met.
The whole scene made Amanda smile, in a way she hadn't in almost two weeks. Seeing Beth happy and taken care of, warmed her heart. After the rocky start she'd been given in life, the other woman couldn't deserve it more.
“Aren't you excited about seeing your mom again?” Seventeen-year-old Amanda slipped into the room she shared with her foster sister, Beth.
The other girl barely looked up from the dressing mirror she sat at, brush paused midair as if she'd been combing one spot to oblivion. She turned then, her hazel eyes piercing Amanda. “Have you ever felt like you didn't belong?”
Amanda shrugged. “Sure.” Sometimes Jordan and McKenna did that weird, reading each other’s mind, thing.
“I don't belong there, Amanda. There's all these stuffy rules and dinner parties. I never know which fork to use or what to say. And sometimes, I get the feeling my mom wished I wasn't around at all.”
It couldn't be true, but even as the thought popped into her mind, it was replaced by the very real situation she saw in every foster child the Nettles' housed. Someone had discarded them, written them off or made poor choices and hadn't put that innocent child first. “Maybe she's just nervous she won't say the right thing.”
The other girl shrugged and looked away. “She doesn't talk to me at all. Not like your parents.”
Amanda sat on the twin bed closest to the dressing table. “I'm going to miss you, too.”
The brush slammed onto the table's surface. The other girl launched herself into Amanda's arms as if she were years younger, instead of a month. “It's not fair.”
No, life wasn't fair. As she hugged the girl who was like a sister in every way, except blood, she tried to remember this separation wasn't a death sentence. “We'll write each other. And in a year you'll be eighteen. You'll go to college. Maybe meet a guy. Fall in love.”
Beth laughed as she straightened and then wiped the tears beneath her eyes. “Is that all you think about? Sam Richardson and his dreamy smile?”
Now, it was Amanda’s turn to laugh. “No.” It came in a close second.
“Good, because he’s not even nice to…anybody.”
“Mmm-hmm. You’ve been talking to Jordan, again.”
Beth shook her head, a sad smile pressed on her face. “I know, I'm being silly. I'm not even leaving Charlotte, but it feels like it, because that house is so different. I don't know how I'm going to make it.”
“Like you always do. Stay strong and focus on the future.”
Amanda blinked back the memory.
Guy and Beth still smiled at each other like goofy teenagers.
Her parents, even on a bad day, had the same look. So did Jordan and McKenna. Until now, she hadn’t realized she’d been comparing those couples to herself and Eric. The results didn't match. The last spontaneous moment they'd had was over a year ago when she'd surprised him with a trip to the Outer Banks, for his birthday. Was that the last time they'd been alone and out on a date?
How awful.
“Do you think you might be able to?” Beth's face radiated with a smile and something close to hope.
Whoops. “I'm sorry. Was off in my own world for a minute. What did you say?”
Guy wiped his hand on a napkin. “Beth's nervous about the game on Thursday.”
Wisps of highlighted and styled hair moved around her head, as she shook it in her husband’s direction. “Don't make me sound like a baby. I—”
“We just moved here and she hasn't been back to the area in several years.” Guy threw a wink in Beth’s direction. “I'm not from here and it would be nice for her to have someone to go with. We have two tickets.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “It would be nice. If you want to come. Please, don't feel any pressure, though.”
Amanda nearly choked on the sip of water she'd taken. “You guys are acting as if you've invited me to the ballet. It's football. Who would say no to that?”
“Some of the other wives aren't going.” The other woman tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear, the motion controlled. “I-I have to be there.”
That, Amanda understood. The desire to support the people you cared about, even if the possibility of danger stared you in the face. “Wow. Watch the game on a small T.V. at home or enjoy it on the sidelines, with you? Difficult question. Of course, I'll come.”
Relief flashed across the faces of both husband and wife. “You have no idea how much this means,” Beth said.
“You know you can call me anytime, right? Even if you just need someone to carry a shopping bag.”
The couple laughed. “It would be more than one,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Amanda help up a hand. “Just don't hit up any furniture stores and we'll be okay.”
“Or we'll bring the guys with us and make them carry everything.” Beth shot her husband a wink.
The peel of Amanda's phone cut through their laughter. She sobered. An unknown number flashed across the screen. She should let it go to voicemail. That would serve the prick right. Except, she wanted more contact. More clues. And a chance to catch him.
Being a cop didn't mean she didn't live with fear, though. She'd learned how to control it. How to disconnect from a situation so she could better assess it and react.
And she'd learned how to get good and pissed off.
“Sorry, I’ve got to get this.” She put her phone to her ear and excused herself from the table, heading toward the exit. “Nettles.”
“Two pregnant women in your life.” The metallic voice said. “Both expecting their first child. Be a shame if something were to happen.
”
Click.
Okay. Breathe. In. Out. Repeat.
She dialed star-six-nine and waited. A tone pierced her ear and then the pre-recorded operator came over the line. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”
Crap. Beth was here, in front of her and fine. The only other pregnant woman she knew was McKenna. Where was she today? Work? Home? Allowing something to happen to her best friend, for the second time in a year was unacceptable.
And this guy had to know it.
She rushed back to the table and grabbed her purse.
“Amanda?” Beth stood. Worry lined her features. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got to go.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded high pitched and frantic. She didn’t care.
“Is everything okay?”
“Don’t leave her side,” she said to Guy. They called her name, their voices melding into one. She ignored them and walked toward the door. The tornado swirling her brains made sweat break out on her brow. She burst onto the sidewalk, outside the restaurant.
So much for being able to distance herself from the fear. As if breathing through a small straw, her lungs wouldn’t fully expand. Digging her keys out of her purse, she jammed them into the lock. She yanked the door open and hopped inside. A loud jangle filled the car as her keys slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. She grabbed them. Then stuffed one into the ignition. It wouldn’t budge past halfway. A shaky hand stabbed another key inside. No luck.
Breathe.
She found the right key and started the car. One flick turned on the dashboard lights, the red and blue filling her vision as she maneuvered into the traffic.
Grabbing her phone, she dialed McKenna’s number.
It rang. Then rang six more times before flipping to voicemail. She hung up and hit Jordan’s number.
“Bening.”
“Where’s McKenna?” A Neon Saturn pulled out in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and beat her fist against her horn. The driver slowed, before moving to the side of the road.
“She left the office a little while ago. Why?”
“She’s in trouble.”
The creak of a chair came across the line. “What do you mean?”
Amanda gripped the steering wheel so tight, her hand ached. “I mean, she’s in trouble. Danger!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll give her a call on the office phone. Hold on.”
Why was he so calm? Please, be okay. Please, be okay. An image of last spring flashed in her mind. McKenna as still as death in the hospital, as Jordan stood by helplessly. The one bite of her Reuben sandwich, tossed in the sea of her stomach.
None of them would survive the loss.
“She didn’t answer. Let me try again.” An eternity passed as she waited for Jordan to say something. An expletive came from his mouth. “She left her phone here.”
“Where was she going?”
“Coffee run. Hold on, I’ll try calling Kevin.”
“Who the heck is Kevin?” She veered to miss a pedestrian, who had the nerve to flick her off.
“Her bodyguard.”
“She has a bodyguard?” Amanda swerved into the FBI building parking lot and passed her credentials to the guard. A lifetime passed while he detailed pertinent information. Yes, she was a cop. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Five-ten. She came here almost every week. They shouldn’t need the information, anymore.
She clenched her teeth together. After handing her a visitor pass, he waved her through. Just inside the gate, she threw the car into park and jumped from it. “Does she know about this?”
He didn’t answer. “Kevin, have you got McKenna in your sight?” His voice was muffled.
Misjudging the edge of the sidewalk, Amanda tripped and slammed into the brick building. Her left knee and the palm of her hand slammed into the rough material.
Biting back a string of curses, she ignored the sting and ache in her limbs and ran into the building. A group of young kids stood in front of the elevator. A gray-haired man with a packet of papers, held their rapt attention. She opted for the stairs.
“Good. Keep her in your sights. We’ll be there shortly.” The sound of plastic slamming on plastic, reverberated in her ear. “Amanda, where are you?”
“Stairs,” she said between breaths. “ETA, thirty seconds. Where is she?”
“Java Joe’s. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up.
The door to the top of the stairwell swung open as she reached the landing and bent for air. Robinson’s gaze was glued to a stack of papers as he passed through. Jordan appeared behind him, forcing the door open a little harder than necessary. It hit the wall with a heavy thud that vibrated across the concrete and metal. Robinson’s head snapped up.
His gaze connected with hers. “Nettles?” Then he looked at Jordan. “What’s going on?”
“No time,” she said between breaths. She wound her index finger in circle.
In three, large strides, Jordan met her on the landing and tugged her with him down the stairs. “Talk and walk, Amanda.”
The crimp in her side didn’t prevent her from turning their walk into a run.
“You got another call.” Robinson’s voice came from behind her.
“Call?” Shock covered Jordan’s face, but to his credit, he didn’t stop. He busted though the doors, leading to the main lobby and headed outside, to her car. The driver’s side door hung open. “Somebody better fill me in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
That feeling was back again. It sat on McKenna’s shoulders like a lead anvil. And dripped downward like spilled latex paint. It tightened all the muscles in her chest, a deep breath impossible. She hurried along the busy street, clutching the coffee in her hands as if life depended on it.
Maybe it did. She sipped her decaf. It got stuck in her throat. She bit back a cough.
Why now? She hadn’t dealt with this in almost two weeks.
There’s nothing harming you. You’re in the middle of a busy street and nobody is following you.
The pep-talk didn’t work. As if they had a mind of their own, her legs moved faster. She ditched both coffee cups, in a nearby trash can. Jordan would have to understand.
Okay, think. Two blocks to the building she and Jordan had signed a lease on, last week. That’s all the farther she had to go. This was no different than freaking herself out in a dark basement. Imagine one spider and it turned into a million creepy-crawly things.
She’d get inside the soon-to-be private security firm, they planned to build from the ground up, and lock the doors. This time she had a gun and if someone were following her, they’d be sorry.
McKenna dug the keys out of her pocket. Fumbled for the right one, as she neared the door. Shame made her cheeks burn. A year ago, she could handle anything.
Now, a panic attack could reduce her to a shaking, wimp in seconds.
Breathe. No shame in that. Five more steps.
“McKenna!” The shrill voice broke through the crowd. A few people turned in the direction it had come from.
Twenty feet in front of her, Amanda sprinted through the throng of people, her hair flying out from the pristine ponytail she always wore. The mask of red covering her friend’s face deepened as she neared.
McKenna’s heart sank. Something was wrong. Amanda didn’t get stirred up for nothing. Someone was hurt. Or missing. Or dead. Her heart started a marathon in her chest. “W-what’s wrong? Is Jordan okay?”
“You’re okay.” The other woman thumped into her and grabbed her in a bear hug. Erratic breathing came from Amanda’s mouth, her limbs shaking, but firm in their grip.
“Amanda.” She patted her best friend’s back. Tried to maintain some of her own space in the bone-crushing hug. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
Amanda took a huge, shuddering breath and released her. Jordan came into view. McKenna’s heart slowed.
Tears ran down her friend’s cheeks, unche
cked. One hand fanned her face. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fantastic.” She bent over. “Gonna be sick.” Before McKenna could touch her, she straightened and glanced at the people around them. Most everyone who’d been watching had moved on. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Why?”
Still breathing hard, she ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers got stuck on a snarl. The color drained from her face. She crumbled as if someone had disconnected her main circuit board.
Oh, crap.
The keys in McKenna’s hands fell to the ground at her feet. She scrambled toward her falling friend. A man in a flannel shirt and worn jeans, stepped in and caught Amanda, seconds before she would have hit the pavement.
McKenna's eyes connected with the stranger’s, as she crouched near the ground. A memory flitted through her mind. A tall, lean man in a cowboy hat, holding a newspaper, came front and center. Same dark, watchful eyes.
“You stole my purse and then lied about it.” She stood.
“No, ma’am. I would never steal.” His voice was a combination of southern manners and good ’ol boy charm.
It did nothing to calm her racing heart. “You’ve been following me.”
Jordan and Robinson pushed through a few straggling gawkers. Neither man gave the cowboy, holding Amanda, a second glance.
“What happened?” Jordan asked.
McKenna pulled her gun from her holster and centered it on the cowboy.
Jordan stopped in his tracks. A shriek mingled in with the pounding of blood in her ears. The cowboy didn't move.
“Slick, put the gun away.” Jordan said.
She ignored him. Didn’t take her eyes off the man holding her best friend. “Hand her over.” She nodded to Robinson, who stood closest to the other man.
After a moment, he complied, easily placing Amanda in Robinson’s arms. “Mrs. Bening, this is all a huge misunderstanding.” Fear didn’t hide in his eyes, but he raised both hands, anyway.
“How do you know my name?”
“Slick.” Jordan stepped closer to her. A touch of sadness crept onto his face.
DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2) Page 21
