She didn’t allow herself to stop.
***
Breaking the bad news to relatives was never something Amanda wanted to complete. Family members usually saw their loved ones in a perfect light.
But Jimmy was so sweet. How could he have murdered that woman? Carlie was special, always smiled. Where did she find a gun to bring to school?
Amanda considered herself as a straightforward, friendly and loyal woman. Unlike those grieving families, she didn’t have to ask the unanswerable question about how she’d arrived here.
At the District Attorney’s office. And about to have the most dreaded conversation of her life.
Taking a breath, she emerged from the elevator. After finding her dad amidst the crowd, she’d claimed she had a headache, which was only a half lie, and told him she would catch a cab. Now, the soles of her shoes echoed the heaviness in her heart as she made her way to Eric’s office.
Light spilled from it, into the dimly lit corridor. A lighthouse in the semi-darkness. Feeling a bit like Cinderella—the one who didn’t deserve to find out the prince had kept her missing shoe—she stopped at the entrance.
Forget Cinderella. They didn’t have much in common, anyway. Amanda had more sass than sweetness.
They should have had this conversation a long time ago. Before she’d developed an emotional attachment to Robinson, which had slowly grown from casual conversation about nothing. The physical attraction had always been there, bubbling under the surface and buried under every day life.
Eric’s head bent over the stack of papers scattered in controlled chaos on his desk, like always. How many times had her desk looked similar? They were alike in the way they gave dedication to their work. Maybe that was their downfall, but she respected the heck out of him for it.
She knocked on the door jamb.
His head snapped up, then he took in her attire and smiled. “This is a nice surprise.” He discarded the pen in his hand and leaned back in his chair.
“Busy as usual?” Taking in his jacket, neatly hung on the back of his chair, she walked into the room. He’d been working for hours, yet, his tie still clung to his neck exactly as he’d placed it this morning. Not one hair was out of place on his head.
“I'm sorry I couldn't make it, tonight. I hope your dad understood.”
She nodded. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Sure.” He rested his chin in his hand. “You and McKenna were out with a group of friends. Was it for a bachelorette party?”
“Yeah.” They had been selling dum-dum suckers for the bride. She’d spotted Eric across the room, playing pool with a few of his law school buddies. The ease in which he enjoyed the game had drawn her in. His hands held the stick neither too tight nor too loose. The concentration he gave to his turn seemed to suggest that one shot was all that mattered in the world. When he’d mastered a tricky one, he’d been neither cocky nor had he gloated, but a smile of satisfaction settled on his handsome face.
In that moment, their eyes had met and she’d been unable to look away.
“My worst night of pool to date, thanks to you and those suckers.”
She stood in front of the chair, facing his desk, and placed her hands on its back. “You bought our entire stock.”
“It was the least I could do after accidentally ribbing you with the pool stick.”
“Then you asked McKenna to dance.”
He stood. “Only because I was pretty sure you’d refuse me, which, if you remember correctly, happened.”
Because McKenna had dared her to say no to any offers. Had bet Amanda wouldn’t be able to handle it. “Somehow, you talked her into giving you my number.”
“That took some doing. She gave me the third degree, read me some version of the Miranda rights for dating and then told me she would think about it. I’m pretty sure there’s less red tape to adopt then there is to get your number from her.”
“You managed it.”
He moved around the desk, toward her. “The beginnings of my bright law career at work, maybe? Do I get points for calling before the end of the night?”
He’d gotten major points. “McKenna forbid me to approach you after the pool stick incident. She dared me actually.”
Without that bet, McKenna would have been right. She’d always gone after what she wanted. Some of those things hadn’t always been needed.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Stepping in front of her, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Why the trip down memory lane, Mandy?”
To remember. To make things easier or harder. She wasn’t sure. They both deserved so much better. He deserved someone who understood every minute detail—the why behind the neatness, the niceness and the workaholic. Someone who understood it and embraced it. Loved it despite the annoying conundrums.
She deserved that, too.
“Do you still feel like you did then?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know.”
The words didn't produce the sting she thought they might. Just a freeing sensation in her chest. “Robinson almost kissed me tonight.”
Shocked covered his expression. He took in a breath. “Almost?”
“I almost let him.”
“Almost?” he repeated, more firmly this time, his back going ram-rod straight. “How many almosts have there been?”
The churning questions in his eyes cut deep, although reasonable given their conversation. “None. To all of your questions.”
Silence reigned as they stared at one another. “We shouldn’t throw away five good years because of something so trivial.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “But I know you, Amanda. You wouldn’t be here if this were trivial, would you?”
“That’s a moot point, I think.”
“You would have put him in his place, shaken it off and moved on. I would have heard about it in some humorous story.”
Emotion clogged her throat. He was right.
A sad smile touched his lips. “Do you have feelings for him?”
Something in his eyes begged her for the truth. “Yes.”
He pressed his lips inward and didn't say anything for a minute. Somewhere along the line, she'd forgotten that this quiet man still had a heart he rarely let others see. A tear leaked over the ridge of her eyes and tracked down her cheek. She dashed it away. No matter what happened, there wasn’t a happy ending in sight with either man.
“I'm so sorry, Eric. I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner. Maybe we could have fixed things.”
He shook his head. “We're a lot alike, but we're still very different.” He trudged to the leather sofa in the corner of the room and sat, both elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. “I'm okay with the same routine every day and you need crazy schemes and danger.”
Amanda forced her legs to carry her toward Eric. She sat at the edge, the space of a large man separating them. “There’s nothing wrong with either of those things.”
“You wear sarcasm like a badge of honor. I’m quiet and more of an observer. I may be obtuse at times, but give me a little credit. I know when I’m fighting a losing battle.”
She clenched her hands in her lap. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been in denial ever since we went to Robinson’s apartment. As soon as we stepped inside, it was like I didn’t exist. I made a whole bunch of excuses and told myself I was overreacting. It's happened several times since then and not just with him.”
She thought back to the cemetery with Jordan and McKenna. He looked upset, but hadn't given her the opportunity to rectify the situation. “You never said anything.”
“Losing battle, remember? Did you really want to have another fight? I know I didn’t.”
No. Arguing didn’t fit in Eric’s perfect world. And that was okay. For him. But she wanted to fight when it mattered. To prove to herself, and the other person in the relationship, that she didn’t plan to give up easily.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t how I envisioned our life together would be.”
Those brown eyes lit on her, resignation clear. “Me either.”
“I’ll arrange to have my stuff moved.” She headed for the door.
“Mandy?”
She turned back. “Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Amanda had asked him for one night without talk of the events of the last few weeks. Honoring the request had seemed so simple. Hours later, Robinson knew it had been his first mistake. Had he followed their standard routine, he wouldn’t have given into a crazy impulse on the dance floor.
For that second in time, his mind had refused logic and the only thought had been to taste her. To satisfy the burning need to know if his fantasy met with reality. Had he used any amount of his brain, he could be sitting next to her right now, figuring out if the details he’d discovered meant anything.
Instead, he parked his truck in Jordan’s driveway and drew in a breath that did little, except stir up the lingering scent of her light perfume.
For the first time in a long time, he had no idea how he’d fix what he’d damaged. And a very real urge to finish what they’d started. As he climbed the steps to Jordan’s house, he doubted Amanda had the same thoughts. If he knew her at all, she was probably discussing their almost kiss with Eric.
How had the other man responded? Robinson knew if the positions were reversed, he’d be one pissed off boyfriend, near taking a swing if the other guy ever showed his face. Then again, if the positions were reversed, he would have made sure Amanda never had a reason or desire to get that close to another man. Emotionally or physically.
He sighed. It didn’t matter. Within the space of a few seconds, because of a kiss that hadn’t seen fruition, he may have managed to lose his best friend.
The idea shouldn’t have been shocking, but it made him pause anyway. He called on Amanda because she was professional, she had guts and he respected her opinion. Most of the time he could resist the urge to remove her ever-present hair tie, pull her close and smother himself with her softness and flowery scent.
The fact that he struggled to keep his hands to himself, during each encounter, hadn’t come to light until sometime after his ex-girlfriend’s death, last spring. For the first time since they’d met, he hadn’t been attached to anyone.
At first, he’d ignored the evidence in front of him and written the attraction off. As the months wore on, he’d been unable to lie to himself. Instead, he’d tried to focus on anything, but Amanda. Except, he hadn’t thought the plan through, because doing so required mental strength he obviously didn’t possess.
What had he done?
He rang the bell and waited. No response. Even at ten at night, the lights within the house blazed.
He turned the knob, opened the door and poked his head inside. “Hey, Bening? You home?”
No reply came, but he heard the murmur of voices coming from the living room, so he walked inside and shut the door. A diaper bag and a few stray burp cloths sat on the side table, in the entry. It would take a while to get used to Jordan and McKenna with a baby.
“Come on, Amanda,” McKenna said. “You know you can stay here.”
Whoa. He stopped mid stride. Out of sight of the living room, he waited to hear her response.
“I can’t,” her voice came out soft, resigned and a little sad. It tugged at something inside of him. “It puts you guys in too much danger. I can't risk it, especially now that you have Riley. I'd never forgive myself. I shouldn't even be here, now.”
She was right.
“This house is as safe as it gets,” Jordan said. “Our security system works great.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I just need an extra set of hands to help me move the big stuff.”
Confusion slammed into his gut. What was she talking about? Had Eric kicked her out over something so little? Except, even as the thought entered his brain, he knew the fact that he’d come close to kissing Amanda was anything but. She wasn't the type of woman who put her heart out there for any willing guy to grab in a convenient moment.
If she hadn’t pulled back…he'd feel like a bigger dick than he already did.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” Worry undercut McKenna’s voice.
A tired, feminine sigh met his ears. “You promised.”
Silence filled the room and he figured his luck was about to run out and he’d eventually be discovered, so he stepped into view. “Way to leave the front door unlocked, Bening.”
He didn’t dare look at Amanda. Not yet. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw regret covering her face. And he couldn’t trust himself not to rush in, like a jerk, and prove he was better for her than Eric.
Robinson would volunteer for the job, any day of the week.
Jordan stood in front of the two women, who were perched on the couch, his arms across his chest. From the corner of his eye, he noted Amanda had changed from the dress she’d worn to the gala. With the way her worn jeans clung to her long legs, and the Nirvana t-shirt form-fitted to her curves, he wasn’t sure which outfit packed a bigger punch to his libido.
“Didn’t expect to see you tonight, Robinson.” Jordan leveled his gaze on him, then, as if the other man knew every secret he had, including the stolen moment with Amanda.
“I came to go over a few things with you while I wait for Ariana to get home from the movies.”
“Oh? You mean I don't have to hunt you down to get the story?”
The underlying sarcasm in the other man’s tone had Robinson’s hackles rising. Sure, he might deserve a little harassment for not cluing his ASAC in on the information he had. He’d have to get over it. Robinson wasn't about to spill the beans without giving Amanda a chance to digest the information in private.
“I don’t see SAC in front of your name, Bening.”
“I’ve got other letters that mean my superiors should probably keep me in the loop.”
He opened his mouth, but Jordan cut him off. “Give me that need to know bull, Robinson, and you’ll be looking at my resignation.”
He couldn’t afford to lose Jordan.
“Whatever’s going on, I’m not stupid. I know I’m still not getting the whole story.” Jordan glanced between him and Amanda then. “I think it’s way past time you both laid it all on the table.”
He hazarded a glance at Amanda then. Her arms folded across her torso. Her hair hung loosely around her face, the stylish up-do from earlier, gone.
“It’s not mine to tell,” he said.
Amanda stiffened. “Isn’t that just like you? Expecting someone else to be your clean-up crew.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Okay, he anticipated some anger, but this was something else. Between thinking about pressing his lips to hers and being insulted, he didn’t have time to figure out the crux of the situation. With Amanda, he never did.
“Last year, who did you call when Jordan’s biological father suddenly showed up and you knew HQ wouldn’t approve the manpower or intel to follow up on it?”
“That’s not exactly a huge secret, Amanda,” Jordan said. “You and McKenna were both in Las Vegas. McKenna was with me so, logically…”
She continued as if she hadn’t heard the other man speak. “Who posed as a nurse’s aide to get you information?” She took a step toward him, her face becoming an angry red and her eyes turning a deep amber. “Who lied to her friends so you could have whatever you wanted? Or skipped out on family meals? Left her boyfriend hanging on more than one date.”
“You could have said no.” Even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. Not because he’d made it impossible for her to do so, intentionally, but because of the type of person Amanda was. Too late, he realized he wasn’t defusing the situation, but adding ammunition.
Her lips formed a compressed, straight line. “You’ve got to be ki
dding me.”
The last time he’d seen her this angry, he’d called her a few choice words and Jordan had to separate them. After he’d calmed down, he’d realized he hadn’t meant a word he’d said. The look on her face—a mixture of disbelief and anger as he’d told her she was psychotic bothered him for a long time afterward.
What really ate at him, however, was the barely concealed hurt he’d seen in her eyes. As if he’d killed something precious to her. He didn’t plan to make the mistake twice, but it didn’t mean he’d let her say whatever she wanted, either.
“I think you should calm down.”
Her eyes shrunk to small slits as she crossed her arms over her midsection. “Calm down?” She laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do. Let’s all sit down and sip some tea, while someone blows up our buildings, plants decoys in the houses of people I care about and threatens those same people.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Amanda.” Jordan stepped toward her. “Maybe—”
She shot a heated glare at the other man. “Stay out of this.”
As if in surrender, Jordan raised his hands. McKenna got up from the couch, grabbed one of his outstretched limbs and pulled him toward the living quarters. “Let's check on Riley. If she's got a dirty diaper, it's your turn.” They both disappeared from sight.
“A.J.”
“Don’t.” She slashed an arm through the air. “I’m good enough to chase a known criminal halfway around the world. Nearly lose my badge digging into a ten-year-old murder, impersonate officers of the law, and get you information you wouldn’t have otherwise had, but I’m not good enough when my own life is on the line.”
“That’s an unfair conclusion, don’t you think?”
“You wouldn't even let me talk when we went to Home Depot. And I dealt with it, because you asked all the same questions I would have. And I'd rather be a sounding board than be kept in the dark.”
“I’m trying to run this investigation by the book. Believe me, I’d much rather have you out there, following up on leads.”
A giant sigh escaped her.
DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2) Page 29
