“He’s been following me, Jordan.”
A siren pierced the air.
“I know. It’s okay.” He grabbed the gun from her hand with little force. He tucked it into the holster at her side, beneath her jacket.
“What?”
The blue in his irises radiated sorrow and worry. “I know he’s been following you. I hired him. McKenna, meet Kevin. He’s your bodyguard.”
***
After assuring CMPD the scene on the sidewalk was FBI related, and not the beginnings of assault with a deadly weapon, Robinson had followed his agents to Mercy Hospital. Once inside, he’d convinced the hospital staff to allow all of them inside the confines of Amanda's room, in the Emergency Department.
The idea was part work-related, part necessity—all of it asinine. At least she'd been assigned an actual room, which gave them a small measure of privacy.
Robinson looked down at her still form, surrounded by piercing white. She’d stirred a moment ago, but hadn't opened her eyes. If he had the choice to sleep, or even fake sleep, right now, he'd take it.
The nurses had drawn blood and some young doctor ordered a CT scan. Never good at sitting idle, he'd chosen a chair, in the corner. Tried to formulate the best way to deal with the last hour.
Under normal circumstances, he'd write up paperwork. McKenna paced the space in front of Amanda’s bed like a caged animal. Which would be easier? Reprimanding one of his employees for improper weapon usage or dealing with the tangled mess that encompassed Amanda Nettles?
He shouldn't even be here. Jordan and McKenna could handle this. Robinson ran a hand over the side of his face. Leaving wasn't possible. Protecting Amanda wasn't in his job description, professionally or personally, but here he sat anyway.
Stuck between what his job dictate he complete—paperwork, which would set McKenna’s career back—and finding evidence to seal Amanda’s fate.
Director Stotts had come to visit, yesterday. He’d viewed the tapes, looked through his files. The paperwork Robinson kept in pristine order.
Wouldn’t be the first time a cop has gone off the deep end, Agent Robinson. So, her things came back clean. Find something that doesn’t. Maybe she’s helping someone. Maybe someone’s helping her.
And maybe Stotts wanted a simple answer and a patsy to save face. Did he forget this country was still hunting down Bin Laden months after the event?
Under Robinson’s leadership, the Charlotte field office would follow every lead to make sure the right man was caught. Yes, Amanda was still their top person-of-interest. Yes, he’d keep digging. Instead of proving her involvement, he planned to do the opposite, while keeping an open mind.
Which meant he couldn’t work with his favorite detective—couldn’t bounce ideas off of her this time. For appearances, he should avoid her, unless in a professional capacity.
“You hired a body guard?” McKenna pointed toward where the man in question stood, like a sentinel, quiet and watchful, in the corner of the room, opposite Robinson.
“For your safety,” Jordan said. He had his hands on his hips.
“My safety?” With arms across her chest and her foot taping wildly, she looked as inviting as a cobra about to strike. “How long has this been going on?”
Jordan hesitated.
Oh, boy.
Robinson patted Amanda’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Wake up, A.J. I’m not prepared to deal with JorKenna time, alone.”
A light twitch of her facial muscles was followed by an exhale. She opened her eyes. Those scotch-colored orbs took in his face, then their surroundings as if she couldn’t figure out where she was.
When she would have sat up, Robinson placed a hand on her shoulder and held her in place. “Give it a second.”
“I’m fine.”
“Humor me, Nettles. You fainted.”
She rubbed both hands over her face, the tubing connected to the IV, in her left hand, moving as she did. “Hopefully, it was graceful.”
“How. Long.” The agitation in McKenna’s voice drew Amanda’s attention before Robinson could let out the first wise crack, cropping up in his mind.
Jordan moved closer to McKenna, his hands out as if to comfort her.
She took a stiff step back.
They fell to his sides. “Eight months.”
“Eight? Geez, Jordan, did you get a good chuckle when I told you I felt like I was being followed? That I’d finally brought myself to discuss it with the psychologist?”
He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Slick.”
“What happened to no more secrets?”
“I needed you to be safe.” The words were calm, but firm.
McKenna threw her hands in the air. “Keeping me out of work and cooped up in the house wasn’t enough?”
Amanda propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling over one shoulder. He itched to run his fingers through it. Feel the softness.
“That’s not JorKenna time, Robbie. That’s about to be a full blown argument.”
“I gathered.” A sight he hoped to avoid witnessing.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Jordan said.
“No.” McKenna's arms slashed through the air as if she were a referee signaling a foul. “Don’t stand there and tell me it was for my own good.”
Defeat covered his features. “I did it when I couldn’t be around to be sure you were safe. I did it for both of us. I did it for myself. My own sanity.”
“At. The. Cost. Of. Mine.”
He ran a hand across his face. “Put yourself in my shoes for one second, McKenna.” Jordan's voice was punctuated with gruff undertones. “A little over eight months ago, I almost lost you. I suffered a head wound that almost killed me. It took me a month to get back to normal, physically.” He moved closer, again, and this time she didn’t step away. “All that time, though all the pain and crippling headaches, all I thought about was you. I had to protect you and our life together. I’m one man. I couldn’t be in two places at once. I hired a bodyguard. I knew you wouldn’t like it, so I didn’t tell you.”
McKenna didn’t move, but her stance softened.
Beside him, Amanda let out a puff of air as if she'd been holding her breath through the event.
Robinson clenched his hands together between his knees. “What happened out there today, A.J.?”
She laid back on the cot, the sheets rustling in starchy-crispness as she did. “I panicked.”
“Another call?”
She nodded.
“Probably not long enough for a trace?”
“I’d say no.” She propped herself up again. “Where’s my phone?”
Robinson reached inside the plastic bag containing the garments the nurses had removed from Amanda. A black jacket and dark blue, button up blouse were neatly folded. Her keys, wallet and cell phone rested on top. The staff had taken her gun and badge and stored it in a locked safe, near the front desk.
“Here.” He handed the device over, their hands brushing as she grabbed it. Before the shock traveling from his fingertips transferred to his arm, he released the item.
Amanda flipped it open as if there’d been no spark on her end.
Maybe there wasn’t and this was all in his head.
She pressed a few buttons. “Even if you could trace it with the software on my phone, he’s probably long gone by now and the disposable phone he was using, discarded. Or the pay phone abandoned. The scenarios are numerous. Look.” That flowery scent she wore, traveled toward him as she leaned closer. She tilted her phone so he could see and opened a program.
“This runs in the background for every call. With the right parameters, it can trace the call and triangulate the location. I’ve set it up to record every call, so I don’t have to worry about forgetting to open it.”
He had a basic understanding of computers. When he needed information on a topic, he didn’t have intimate knowledge of, he relied on his individual units. All he saw on her phone was a bunch of code.
“Do we have a trace or not?” Not that it mattered with the twenty minutes they’d already spent here.
She pointed to a section on her display. “We’re two seconds short, but I have full audio on the conversation. I emailed you a ZIP file.”
“And this whole thing runs in the background?”
“Yeah.” She closed the phone. “You’d have to know what you were looking for to find it.”
“You put it on there yourself?”
“Yeah.”
He blinked. No wonder Stotts had zeroed in on the detective. If he had any knowledge of her IT skills…
“Why are you in homicide?”
“I’m not enough of a nerd to hang with the computer kids. They have standards, you know. And there wasn’t an opening. So, Captain Dentzen talked me into homicide and partnered me with Catsky.”
If she’d survived the older man’s cantankerous attitude, she could get through anything. There weren’t many people who got along with the man long enough to conduct an investigation.
It was so Amanda. Able to work with anything. He’d never met anyone who had an unkind thing to say about her. Given their career field, it was a huge compliment.
“Care to elaborate on your conversation?”
“I was at lunch with Beth and her husband.” A glisten appeared in her eyes. “The call came in. He told me I had two pregnant friends and that it would be a shame if something happened. I’m not sure what I expected, but that wasn’t it. It’s one thing to name the people closest to me and another to…”
“Threaten them.”
Those amber eyes lit on him, disappointment shadowing her face. “I couldn't think. I’m a cop. I’m supposed to remain level-headed in every situation. Assess. Formulate a plan. Follow through. There was nothing. Except, the thought of my best friend in trouble.”
Several expletives raced through his brain. As if it had a mind of its own, his hand found hers above the sheets. Her eyes flew there and then bounced to his face, the moment caught in time. Everything around them fell away.
Okay, he wasn’t imagining this.
Reason told him to end this moment. To take his hand back and act as if it were nothing more than one friend comforting another, for a quick second in time. Instead, he squeezed it, liking the feel of her soft skin against his.
The tightening of her fingers, around his, was nothing more than a good end to a bad day. A sign that Amanda was tough, but still in need of human touch. He just happened to be nearby.
“You did what anyone would do under the circumstances.”
Amanda gave a small nod as she tugged at the blue and white gown, the nurses had changed her into. She released his hand, the loss of contact more pronounced than he'd admit.
In front of Amanda's bed, Jordan and McKenna embraced.
“Crisis averted.” He nodded toward their friends.
“For now.” A smile brightened her face as her gaze met his. “What would it take to have you get them out of here?”
He leaned in closer and checked the need to return it. “Why? You exhausted yourself trying to get to them.”
“Because,” she whispered, her face a short pull toward his. “The moment they realize I'm awake, it will be like an old lady convention in here.”
He tried to hold back a chuckle. “What?”
“Your Grandmother ever visit you when you were sick?”
“Sure.”
“At first it seemed cool, right? An extra kiss, prolonged story time or she'd sneak you a cookie. Then she'd start hovering and over fluffing your pillows, until she made your mom look like a saint.”
“Sounds about right.”
“That's Jordan and McKenna.” Her voice got even softer as she laid back and closed her eyes. “They mean well, but if you value what remains of my sanity, you'll find a reason for them to leave.”
“We're not going anywhere.” McKenna stepped closer to the bed, on Robinson's side. A stern gaze flicked from him to Amanda as if they were teenagers with too much time on their hands. Jordan wore an unreadable expression as he stood at the foot of the bed. All of it aimed at Robinson. Great.
He straightened.
Amanda didn't open her eyes. “I'll just pretend you aren't here, then.”
“That's juvenile, even for you.” McKenna folded her arms atop her stomach.
Amanda's eyes opened, then. “You guys are the worst kind of friends, a girl would be lucky to have.”
A half-laugh escaped McKenna. “What's going on?”
That amber gaze speared him for a second, before it returned to her friends. “Just your average day dealing with criminals.”
“Stop making light of everything.” Jordan gripped the foot rail. “You've got some kind of stalker.”
If only it were that easy.
“We can't help, if we don't have all the details.” The deep frown, etched there, didn't invite half answers. Jordan must have been working on his I'm-about-to-be-a-dad face.
Amanda sat up so fast, the sheets around her, pooled at her waist. One jean-clad leg, sans shoe, swung out from underneath the covers and hit the floor. “This isn't something you can fix, Jordan.”
“This is my job. You're family. So, whatever happened today, I need to know about it.”
Amanda was already shaking her head. If this guy knew as much about her as he claimed, he understood how far back she went with Jordan and McKenna. Heck, Robinson had known that after the first three months of working together.
Amanda stilled, her eyes going wide. Then she tugged the linens back from her other leg. Hot pink toes filled his view.
Hot pink. He hadn't figured on that.
“I gotta go. I have to check on Beth.”
Robinson stood in front of her. “Hold it.”
“You can't just leave,” McKenna said.
Amanda looked around the room and stood, the hand with the IV clutching the material of her hospital gown, in the back. They stood toe to toe, the heat from her body radiating toward him.
He moved to the side, closer to McKenna, at the foot of the bed. Still within arm’s reach.
“Where are my things?”
She wasn't skipping shop again. “Sit down, A.J.”
Amanda turned toward him. “You know I can't.”
He shook his head. “You're not doing anyone any favors running around from one possible victim to the next.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
That pretty face, full of worry, begged him to say something useful. “There's always a choice.”
She brush a hand over her hair and knotted it at the base of her neck, with the band around her wrist. “Not when it comes to a life.”
Jordan and McKenna exchanged a glance. If Amanda continued the way she was, she'd make herself sick. Or she'd end up dead. “Don't you think, maybe, the point of this is to have you running all over? Spread so thin, you can't think straight?”
Those amber eyes met his and held. “I can't chance it. Tell me you'd do something different.”
No. He'd forgo food and sleep to make sure the people he cared about stayed alive. To keep another death from happening. He'd done that. Would continue to do so.
Was she eating or sleeping?
A sad smile lifted her lips, a shell of the grin he liked seeing. “I didn't think so.”
Erasing Amanda Nettles from his memory would take much more than a lobotomy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A call to Beth had dispelled Amanda's fears, for the time being. At first, the other woman had sounded upset, but had quickly cheered once Amanda assured her she was okay. Luckily, Beth hadn't pushed for too many answers. Not like Jordan and McKenna.
Or Robinson.
She walked through the third precinct doors and let her eyes adjust to the dimness inside. Davis sat at the front desk, her blonde hair pulled tight into a ponytail. It gave her face a lift, without surgery.
A few hard tugs on the hospital bracelet did nothing to remov
e it. The edge of the stiff plastic chaffed her wrist. She'd have to grab a scissors once she got to her desk.
“Where have you been?” Davis asked. Her voice held a smoky-grit to it, something the guys teased her about. The other woman couldn't be older than thirty. Instead of pursuing her detectives shield, she chose to run operations within the station.
There were lots of nasty rumors circulating about why she stayed with CMPD and the third precinct, in general. Most of them included a scenario, in which, the young woman traded herself for the job, with any willing partner. And that she’d rounded the majority of the male population within various precincts, throughout Charlotte. Ergo her wide-based knowledge of all law enforcement personnel.
Amanda didn't buy into it. She’d never seen the other woman with anyone, let alone a man. It smacked of the aftermath of a breakup, wherein the other person spread gossip to the rumor mill in some twisted plot of revenge.
Davis seemed nice, in a quiet, yet, observant way. That type of attention to detail couldn't be taught. Someday, Davis might save their backsides. Or, according to some of the meaner detectives, she might kill them all.
“Kind of a long lunch, Nettles.” Green eyes lifted from the computer screen and went to the watch on her left wrist. The giant clock behind her read three-fifteen. “Almost four hours. Hope it was more than a salad.”
“Reuben sandwich.” Amanda walked around the desk, waited for Davis to buzz her through the security door before coming to stand behind her coworker. “I'm sure your lunch was better.”
Davis spun in her chair and faced Amanda. “The usual.”
So, a cold sandwich in the small break room, while finishing the crossword puzzle and trying to stay out of sight. Amanda had invited the officer to lunch, on more than one occasion, but been shot down every time. As if Davis preferred her own company more than that of others.
Amanda tugged at the band again. “You got a scissors?”
The other woman opened a drawer, pulled out the sharp object and placed it in Amanda's hand, handle first. She snipped through the band and tucked the plastic in her pocket, before handing the scissors back.
“That explains the long lunch.” Davis stowed it away and slid the drawer shut. “Everything okay?”
DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2) Page 22
