DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  “If this is about earlier…well, I’m sure you and Lawyer Boy had a good laugh over it.”

  “Don’t do that.” Her voice came out soft, all the anger seeming to fade into a deep weariness. “Please, don’t make light of this. Just this once.”

  “Seems like changing the routine is what got us here. What happened, A.J.?”

  “What do you mean? Earlier or with Eric?”

  He liked that she could be so direct. Like a teenage boy talking to his first crush, he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. After a moment of indecision, he jammed them in his pockets. “Both.”

  “It’s over. I’m moving out.”

  His heart pounded too loudly in his ears. Was he a total jerk for the relief pouring through him? “I don’t know what to say, A.J.”

  “It probably should have happened sooner and much differently. What occurred earlier just forced me to face the facts.”

  A loud chirp had her digging out her phone and silencing it. Something passed over her features. Worry or guilt, maybe both.

  “What are the facts?”

  She shook her head and looked at the floor. He'd never seen her so dejected. “I can't do this. Not like this.”

  “Hey.” In a few steps, he closed the gap between them. As if his hand had a mind of its own, he laid his palm against her cheek. He reveled in the softness of her skin. That one simple act seemed so right, like his hand should have always been caressing her. “You weren't alone out on that dance floor. We both felt something. Admit it.”

  The words startled him. It was as close as he’d come to voicing his feelings. How did he put wanting her—needing her into words? He already had one botched attempt. The idea of being so vulnerable scared the crap out of him, but he couldn’t seem to stop the emotion.

  Like watching her now made all sorts of crazy visions dance through his head. Visions he’d tried to expel from his mind, but couldn’t. Would her lips feel as soft as they looked? Would she respond if he placed his mouth on hers?

  Her gaze lifted to his. “It’s circumstantial. We’ve had several near death experiences together. You’d feel close to anyone under those conditions.”

  “I hear that all the time from my army buddies who’ve spent time overseas, in combat. They all want to make out with each other.”

  A strangled sound came from her. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know you’re trying to make light of this. Even after you asked me not to. Seems like a double standard, but we can roll with it.”

  “It’s a bad idea that will only end in disaster.”

  Did she remember who she was talking to? “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “You came over for a reason, Robbie. What was it?”

  “You can’t sidetrack me that easily, Nettles. I don’t like to see you hurt, but don’t pretend this.” He rubbed his thumb across her lips. They parted and a puff of warm breath hit his digit. “Is because of anything that’s going on. It’s insulting.”

  “I need time.”

  He nodded. “Just don’t ask me to stay away. I’ve tried that and failed.”

  He held back all the other things he wanted to say. All the things that would convince her she needed to see this through with him. Now. Maybe he would have, if the amber of her eyes didn’t hold a world of hurt and confusion. And once he unleashed his knowledge, it would get worse.

  “Robbie?”

  “Yeah,” he said, unable to take his eyes from the emotions jockeying for position on her face. It rated above the Northern Lights on his list of perfect sights.

  “I can’t think when you touch me.” The words came out so low, he thought he’d imagined them. “And I really need to focus right now.”

  She was right, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t if he tried. “Welcome to my world.”

  The amber in her eyes warmed to a deep scotch as she watched him. “What world is that?”

  “The one where I pretend you are nothing more than a damn good detective.” He dropped his hand. “One I don’t want in any way, but professionally. You’ve never been my cleanup crew, Amanda. You’re my go-to guy—girl.”

  “Is this something new?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. She wanted to know; had a right to know, even. How did he answer a question he didn’t know himself? Maybe he’d consigned himself to being her side-show the first time they’d worked together, without realizing it. Perhaps this attraction went farther back than that. To a time before either of them had known they shared a common passion for law enforcement.

  “You should have given me a ticket that day, on the highway, A.J. I deserved it.” Maybe they wouldn’t be here, right now, if she had. But she’d been nice, professional and hadn’t given him a lot of gender confused mumbo-jumbo. It had sucked him right in.

  “I couldn’t. You looked like you'd had a really bad day and expected it to get worse.”

  The fact that she knew exactly what he meant, made him smile. “Bad was an understatement.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t. You might have held it against me and not pulled me to safety seconds later.”

  “Or you wouldn’t have still been standing there.”

  “There’s no way to know, now.”

  So, true. “That seems to be our recurring theme.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “It's a good thing we were there. That drunk driver could have killed someone.”

  “That guy was hopped up on something, along with the booze. It took three of us to hold him down while the Firefighters freed his leg.”

  “Remember, one of the paramedics managed to get inside the car and calm him down. If it weren't for her, that guy might have tried to pull his foot off just to get away.”

  Robinson had been too busy trying not to get bit as he pressed the man's upper body against his seat.

  “Ken Johnson called me.”

  That explained her anger. “Oh?”

  “You’ve been digging for information. Why not just ask me?”

  “We covered this earlier. We’ve been avoiding each other.”

  “You’ve tracked me down a million other times for various and nearly impossible favors.”

  “True.” This time was different. For so many reasons. Because he wanted her and couldn’t have her. Because she couldn’t answer questions she didn’t know the truthful answers to.

  “Do me a favor, Robbie.”

  “Okay...”

  As if she couldn’t help herself, she stepped closer and ran a hand down his tux, smoothing a wrinkle on his lapel. The feather-light touch set his body on fire. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “Take me back three years, to after you pulled me from the road.”

  “What?” He swallowed, sure he hadn’t heard right.

  Color tinged her cheeks.

  Her hand fisted around the material she’d smoothed. The other found his cheek, her cool fingers settling on the back of his neck and pulling him toward her. “This time, instead of letting me walk off, you kiss me.”

  He swallowed back a groan. If he grazed his lips across hers, it would be over. No going back. Not for him, anyway.

  One arm wrapped around her torso and brought her closer. The other found the loose strands of her hair, his palm and fingers encompassing the baby-fine fibers.

  He knew what he wanted, but she didn’t, not beyond his kiss. After everything she’d been through in the last few weeks…

  He wanted her on terms not tinged with regret and second guesses. Not the wish of rewound time. They’d both been different people then.

  “Can’t take time back, A.J.”

  “I know.” Sadness crept into her eyes. Her fingers slipped from around his neck and she stepped out of his hold. The loss of contact tore through him.

  He clenched his teeth together. “I’d love to—”

  The sound of her phone stopped anything he might have said. Again,
she silenced it.

  “Maybe you should answer that? Call me crazy, but the sound of that thing isn’t comforting.”

  “It’s fine. It’s just Eric.”

  He had no right to the jealousy churning in his gut. He’d only known Amanda for three years. Eric had five years or longer under his belt. They had history. He stamped it down. One almost-kiss didn’t entitle him to squat.

  Biggest lug-head on the planet? Sitting right here. Should of have had a neon sign floating above his head.

  “What lead were you following at the gala?” she asked as if the entire night hadn’t happened.

  “It was more of a hunch.” He wanted to work up to his discussion with Sandra Porterville, but he didn’t have a clue how. How was he supposed to tell Amanda her biological mother wasn’t Eileen Nettles? “I didn’t end up getting as much information as I’d hoped.”

  “Let me help.”

  Yes. Despite what Director Stotts thought this investigation needed, he was wrong when it came to the woman in front of him. “Amanda—”

  Her phone cut through his words. She sighed, picked it up and stepped away from him. “Hello.” She glanced at the ceiling above her head, one hand braced on her hip. “No. I was going to have Jordan help me with it in the morning. Why?” She paused a second. “What? No. I’ll be right there.”

  She hung up and turned toward him. A corner of her lip was tucked between her teeth, the color on her face nonexistent.

  “I’ve gotta go.” She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Eric’s condo went up in flames.”

  “What?” McKenna said from behind him, her newborn cradled in her arms.

  “I’ll drive you,” he said.

  Her gaze settled back on him. “Do you think that’s a good idea, right now?”

  “Do I look like I care?”

  “I'll drive myself.”

  He shook his head. “CMFD will have the place filled to capacity with their equipment. Not to mention all the vehicles from the investigators. We don't need to add any more than necessary. And, we’ll have to figure out if this is related to the stadium incident.”

  She chewed her bottom lip a second. “Fine.”

  Next time, he’d kick hesitation over a cliff and kiss her.

  In a way she’d never forget.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Amanda needed her head examined. The entire night proved this fact.

  The fire department worked as a well-oiled machine, beginning to douse the inferno that had taken over much of Eric’s condo and had reached other parts of the building. Amanda and Robinson pushed their way to the front of a gathering crowd of residents.

  “Look at all the stuff on the ground.” An overweight woman said to another woman wearing spandex workout gear.

  “It looks like someone threw it out the window to try and save it.” Spandex woman stood on tiptoe, trying for a better view.

  “They probably didn’t get far.” The first woman said. “That fire looks like it went up fast.” Their conversation died out as she and Robinson reached the police tape, showed their badges and ducked beneath it.

  Various articles of clothing littered the bushes beneath the fire. Amanda noticed a couple of Eric's favorite suits, some of her shirts and jeans. A lone black dress heel. A canvas filled with an autumn scene sat amidst some of the debris, one of the corners torn. Water slowly dripped onto it.

  She’d spent countless hours redoing the oranges, yellows and reds until they were perfect. It had been the first large canvas she’d done in college. Before she’d declared a major. Or met Eric.

  “Damn.” Robinson stopped abruptly. “That was your favorite.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. “How did you know that?”

  “Your face says it all.” His gaze returned to the building firefighters fought to save. Then he scanned the area around them. “And I liked it, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her lips still tingled, in anticipation of his kiss. She’d practically flung herself at him, only to have him prove his sanity outranked hers.

  Not by much. The heat in his eyes, seconds after she’d thrown caution to the wind, had said more than words.

  And mirrored her desires.

  What kind of person broke up with their long-term boyfriend and kissed another man hours later? Or practically begged him to kiss her. The more important question: How had she let this attraction come so far, without ever acknowledging it?

  Just the sight of him, still dressed in that tuxedo, had her pulse racing. If he so much as traced a finger over the back of her hand, she’d be in his arms without hesitation.

  Robinson had to think the worst of her right now.

  Her life was a mess she couldn’t begin to sort through. Exploring something new, with him, sounded like the best bad idea she’d ever had.

  There was that respect again, rearing its ugly head and reminding her Robinson was the epitome of level-headed, at all times.

  “Was Eric here when it happened?” Robinson asked.

  “No. He was downtown, at the office.”

  “Okay.” Skepticism dripped from the word.

  “Maybe there was a faulty appliance or old wiring. This could be completely unrelated.”

  He shook his head. “It’s been over a week since he contacted you.”

  “You think this is a form of contact? Why change his M.O.?”

  “I don’t think he has one.” He maneuver past the crew operating the truck. “Ever read those R.L. Stine choose your own scare books?”

  “The ones that had multiple story lines?”

  He nodded. “Based on your responses, the story could go a few different ways, but gave the reader a sense of being in control. For a kid, anyway.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “I can picture you with these big glasses and a pile of books on your nightstand. You, with a flashlight, trying to read everything you could before falling asleep.”

  “Very funny. They have only been around for a few years. I used to read them with Ariana.”

  “The image is still pretty much the same.”

  Laughter should have been the last thing she felt like doing, but a small giggle burst from her anyway. Being with Robinson was like that. Full of laughter where there should have been none. It was the only time she felt semi-normal, lately.

  “Once you’re done having a good time, at my expense, can we get back to the topic at hand?”

  She sobered. A little. That sulky expression filling his face gave him a boy-next-door quality. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re fighting the urge to laugh some more.”

  “I shouldn’t be. Who knows who’s watching us.” The lightness died, as reality set in. “He’s usually not far from the scene.” That was part of this guy’s M.O.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. The game has changed, it seems. Just like in those books, the result was based on reader response. I think he’s got multiple variations of how we get to the end based on what you do.”

  As if she didn't already have the weight of each death and injury on her conscience. “I’m listening.”

  “You do as he asks—as he expects and there’s no calls or incidents. You came to my apartment and it set off a chain of events.”

  “Based on that thought, you might say he anticipated it since the dud was already there.”

  “True, but, this guy thinks he knows you. Thinks he knows how you will respond in any given situation. And when you don’t, it makes him realize he doesn’t know you at all.”

  That was the definition of someone who’d lost the remaining chunk, linking themselves to humanity. “In turn, it escalates the disturbances. If this theory is correct, any change I make to my life that doesn't fit in this plan, creates questions for this guy.”

  “This is the result.” He pointed toward the building. “He wants your full attention, Amanda. Once we know why, we’ll be close
r to figuring out who is behind this. Like I said the other day, this goes beyond someone who knows of you. My guess is, he knows you broke things off with Eric.”

  She couldn’t argue. Couldn’t say much of anything. All of four people knew, not including herself and Eric. She doubted he’d told his family already.

  Somewhere along the line, someone thought she'd done a horrible wrong to them. That had to be it. This guy was watching or he made it appear so. Why else would be burn down Eric's condo so soon after their breakup? Coincidence?

  She looked up at the flame-filled building. Water sprayed into one window, but the wind had helped the fire turn, its orange-yellow fingers devouring the front entrance. Fire, much like their perp, was unpredictable.

  Would Eric do something like this?

  “Let’s talk to the fire marshal and see what he thinks.”

  ***

  The fire marshal had echoed Robinson’s thoughts and told them some type of accelerant had most likely been used to start the blaze. Until they could get inside, they wouldn’t have a definitive answer. He’d watched Amanda’s expression become more guarded with each word the marshal said, powerless to stop it.

  She had to be rethinking every encounter in her life. Every friend. Every acquaintance, enemy, perp put behind bars, scared witnesses and their families. That's what he'd do. Make a list and start crossing them out. Then he'd start over and do it again until he found something that made sense. He wouldn't trust anybody until he had a clearer picture.

  Robinson would give her his own, very long, list of reasons why his name shouldn't appear. Ever.

  He folded his arms across his chest.

  If this had to do with Amanda's parentage, why wait so long? And why would Amanda be the target instead of the judge and his wife?

  The now blackened building, sans fire, thanks to an efficient crew, might hold some answers.

  Once a series of inspections took place, to ensure safety, he and Amanda could enter the building. Until then, he’d be waiting. And figuring out what he’d say to Stotts when the man asked why Amanda was privy to this information.

  Because he’d ask. It was only a matter of time.

  Robinson spotted Eric near a tree, at the edge of a landscaped area off the parking lot. He headed in the other man’s direction. The impulse was probably unwise, but he kept moving, pulling his jacket closer to his body.