Re/Viewed

by Michele Zurlo

  The door opened, and Liam came inside. Jed nodded. “How was your walk?”

  Liam engaged the internal locks for the room. “The stars are out. They always look spectacular over a dark ocean.”

  Jed had never been one for stargazing, but he didn’t comment on Liam’s interest in such a romantic topic. When he’d first worked with Liam, he’d been surprised to discover that the agent who often seemed like he preferred machines to people did, in fact, have a sensitive side.

  “I’m taking the left side.” Jed plumped a pillow and hopped onto the bed. Earlier they’d flipped coins for who had to share, and Jordan had won both tosses.

  “That’s fine.” Liam hung his jacket in the closet and loosened his tie. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”

  Jordan tossed his phone onto the nightstand separating the beds. “Turn off the lights, okay? We’re going to sleep.”

  “Sure thing.” Liam gathered some clothes and hit the switches.

  Once he closed the bathroom door, Jordan turned off the lamp on the table. “Alarm is set for five-thirty.”

  The search warrant for Braithwaite’s apartment had come through, and Brandy had assigned that task to Jordan and Liam. They had to make their flight to Encino at six-thirty. Jed didn’t envy them their task because it meant that tomorrow night, he had this room—and a bed—to himself. While he didn’t mind sharing with someone curvaceous and soft, his fellow agents didn’t quite fit the mold of what he considered the ideal bedmate.

  Five-thirty came quickly, and Jed lingered in bed while Jordan and Liam downed caffeine and day-old Danishes. Liam’s Danish had a red stain in the middle.

  Jed squinted in the dim light. “Did you put ketchup on a fucking Danish?”

  “It’s strawberry jam.” Thick with sleep, Liam’s voice barely carried to Jed. “Even I have limits when it comes to ketchup.” He washed it down with a swig of coffee.

  “Careful. Those coffee packets are mass market from a warehouse club.” Jordan slurped another sip as he teased Liam about another one of his crazy government conspiracies.

  “I used my own coffee.” Liam took another drink. “And I made it before you got to the coffee maker, so I won’t have your tainted sludge staining mine. I pay into Social Security and Medicare. I’m not going to let the government slowly poison me into an early grave so they can save money.”

  The first time Jed had heard one of Liam’s conspiracy theories, he hadn’t taken his colleague seriously. Over time he’d come to realize that Liam was very serious about these matters, and that meant his fellow agents had a responsibility to tease him about it. In the semi-dark, Jed grinned. “I replaced your coffee with the stuff from a packet in the room.”

  “Hey, do me a favor?” Liam brushed a crumb from his pant leg onto the floor.

  “Unlikely.” Jed fully expected Liam to tell him to go fuck himself.

  Liam plowed forward as if Jed had answered in the affirmative. “Check on Tru. She was really upset last night.”

  Jed had noticed. Some witnesses had a hard time recounting disturbing events, and Tru Martin was definitely one of them. Her distress had tugged at his heartstrings, which was pretty significant because Jed rarely had sympathy for people who weren’t victims. Even then, he presented a strong, understanding shoulder to the survivors in order to gain their cooperation—much as Liam had done the night before during questioning.

  Jed sat up. He was only fooling himself with the idea that he’d fall back to sleep once they left. “Why do you care? Unless she suddenly remembers witnessing the murder, we’re finished with her.”

  With a moue of distaste, Jordan tossed the rest of his breakfast in the trash. Jed wasn’t sure if Jordan was reacting to the coffee or the Danish. “He’s stretching his fledgling dominant muscles, and so he feels responsible for her. Dare, time to go.”

  Liam, who they’d nicknamed ‘Dare’ because there was no place he wouldn’t dare hack, balanced a paper cup of coffee and his half-finished Danish in one hand while he slung the strap for his bag over his shoulder. “She’s in a vulnerable place, and she’s here alone. I ran into her last night on my walk, and she was still upset. She couldn’t sleep, and so I talked to her until she could fall asleep.”

  Jed couldn’t resist that one. “Yeah, conversations with you often have that affect on people. It’s better than a sleeping pill.”

  Jordan smiled at the joke, but he focused on the new information. “Did you get any new details?”

  “She threw up when she saw the body.” Liam dropped his cup in the trash and stuffed the rest of his Danish in his mouth.

  They already knew she wasn’t a murderer, and they’d all seen people lose it at a murder scene. Jed leaned forward. “Anything else?”

  Liam shook his head, and he stared at Jed expectantly.

  “I’ll check on her.”

  The duo left to catch the flight that would take them to the victim’s apartment. Jed closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep, but the nagging feeling in his gut said that the attempt would only make him tired. With a sigh, he threw back the covers. “Fuck it. I’ll take a long, hot shower.”

  An hour later he stood in front of the mirror and double-checked his chin to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot. He grinned as he ran his palm over his smooth cheeks. “Like a baby’s butt. When you’re good, you’re good.”

  Yeah, he talked to himself. It sometimes got a bit awkward when he wasn’t alone, and when anyone answered back, he always pretended that he’d meant the comment for their ears. He drizzled some coconut oil onto his fingertips, and then he massaged it into his scalp. This stuff kept his hair nice and soft, which the ladies liked, and it smelled good, which the ladies also liked. Jed didn’t consider himself a player, but he wasn’t a hermit either. Being well-groomed and well-dressed meant a lot to him. He didn’t understand Jordan’s love of the disheveled look or Liam’s apparent lack of awareness for anything having to do with fashion or grooming.

  But Jed—Jed always looked good. He admired his smooth skin, the tawny color a perfect mix of his Asian and African ancestry. He kept his dark, curly hair clipped at a respectable half inch, and the cut of his sideburns complemented the sharp slant of his cheekbones and his eyes. Just because he felt like it, he blew a kiss at his reflection. One day he’d meet a woman who would appreciate all the practice. She’d take one look at his luscious lips and fall into his arms. But what would she look like? She’d have to be on the tall side. Not only did he love long legs, but he liked women he could kiss without having to bend over. If Liam hadn’t already staked out the territory, he wouldn’t have minded spending some time using his charm on the lovely Tru Martin.

  A knock at the door interrupted his musings, and a glance down reminded him that he hadn’t yet dressed in anything beyond his boxers. “Just a minute,” he called as he raced into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of pants. While Brandy or Avery wouldn’t be offended if he answered in just his underwear, unless it was an emergency he preferred to be clothed.

  The visitor knocked again just as he shrugged into a white shirt with subtle gray pinstripes. “I’m coming.” He didn’t have time to button his shirt, so he zipped his pants and ripped open the door.

  Tru Martin stood on the other side of the threshold. She wore one of those tight, stretchy athletic shirts that covered everything but left nothing to the imagination. He could not help the fact that his eyes were drawn immediately to her breasts. Yeah, he was a breast man, through and through.

  She didn’t try to look around him, so she probably suspected he was alone. In fact her liquid brown eyes traveled up and down his body, an appreciative gleam lighting them to mocha. “Holy crap. It isn’t even my birthday.”

  “What?”

  With a small shake of her head, she said, “Hi, I’m looking for Liam?”

  He fastened the bottom button on his shirt. “He’s gone. He left a few hours ago to follow a new lead.”

  Her frown came with a side o
f agitation.

  For some reason he found himself scrambling to fix the problem. “I can help you with anything you need, or I can pass on a message.”

  Once again, she looked him up and down, her eyes traveling over his exposed flesh like a light caress. Then she took a step forward, and he noticed how wonderfully tall she was. She lifted onto her tiptoes, and he realized how easy it would be to kiss her. As she veered off to the side, he inhaled. She smelled fresh, minty with a hint of citrus.

  He felt the scratch of her teeth along the shell of his ear, and a shiver of anticipation ran through him. If he had to name one place where a woman could touch him to wrap him around her finger, it would be his ear.

  “That kiss last night knocked my socks off.” The sensual whisper tickled across his consciousness and his brain short-circuited. “When I woke up this morning, I was craving another.” She skimmed her lips over his cheek, and when she came to his mouth, she massaged her kiss into his lips. Slow and sweet, it overloaded his synapses.

  Normally he’d take control. He’d take her in his arms, deepen the kiss, press her against the wall—something to unequivocally let her know that he was in control. But he wasn’t exactly sure of her endgame.

  She pulled away and dropped down to stand on flat feet. Eyes wide with shock, she stared at him for several long seconds. “Nevermind. No message.”

  And just like that, he remembered it wasn’t his kiss that had knocked her socks off. It had been Dare’s. An ounce of jealousy churned in his veins before it hit him anew that Liam had dibs on her. He’d taken over Brandy’s interview, insinuating himself right next to Tru so that he could ask the questions. In this situation, he was in the wrong. Well, maybe not so much. He’d merely offered to relay a message. She’d been the one to instigate the kiss.

  Before he could think of anything to say, she walked away. He watched her go, a little sorry that he hadn’t been the one to run into her last night. Who would have thought she’d be such a firecracker?

  He finished dressing slowly, and by the time he went down to breakfast, Brandy and Avery were already in the dining room, drinking coffee and reading from tablets. He sat in the empty chair next to Avery. “Coroner’s report?”

  “No.” Brandy closed her eyes as she took another sip. “This coffee is fantastic.”

  “And Liam isn’t here to warn us away from the beans or the water.” Avery smiled. “We’re reading Ms. Martin’s blog. She’s a tad bit on the crazy side.”

  Jed had looked over some of the posts. She mostly talked about her experiences staying in different hotels and inns. Of course, he hadn’t spent all that much time researching her. Like Liam, he’d been focused on the victim and his possible connection to The Eye. He thought about the fact that she’d kissed him as part of her message to Liam. “Crazy?”

  “Yeah.” Avery slid her tablet to him. “She went skydiving—jumped right out of a hot air balloon—the week before last, and she wants to try base jumping next.”

  He looked at the photo with the post. It showed the view from the balloon probably taken just before she jumped. Scanning the text, he saw that she’d loved the experience. “You think she’s wrapped up with The Eye because she’s a thrill seeker?”

  Brandy shook her head. “This backs up her story about walking on the beach alone just a few hours before high tide was supposed to come in. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t factor in risk when deciding on a course of action.”

  The object of their conversation came into the dining room and selected a seat on the other side of the room. He watched her, wondering what she had planned for the day. The tight clothing suggested a physical activity, and the naughty side of his brain had several ideas for what activity he would like to propose. Of course, she wouldn’t need clothes for that. Jed did his best to bottle up the attraction he felt toward their vibrant witness.

  “Okay, so she’s not a suspect. Dare said he talked to her last night, and that she admitted to tossing her cookies when she discovered the body.” He turned over his mug and motioned to the waiter for coffee.

  A small frown creased Brandy’s brow. “We can’t confirm that. The tide would have washed it away.”

  “Yep. Any of our other warrants come through?” They’d put in for several, mostly in southern California where Dare and Monaghan were headed.

  “Not yet, but the owner of this place has finally agreed to let us see the registry.” Avery took her tablet back, tapped and swiped at the screen. “So that’s what we’re doing today. It’ll be fun.”

  This was the side of investigating that never made the headlines—the hours spent poring over documents to comb for clues. Jed sighed. “At least the weather is nice. We can take the books outside, sit at a table overlooking the ocean, and dream about better times.”

  Across the room, Tru smiled as she chatted with the waiter. They exchanged a few words, and when he left, Tru opened a notebook and started writing. Watching her hand fly across the page, Jed wondered if she was writing about the kiss. It had been so very sweet and unexpectedly sensual. Did the unexpectedness of it influence the sweetness factor? Or had her hesitant determination made her seem appropriately submissive—and that’s what had appealed to his dominant side? So many questions, and almost no time to explore for answers. Plus, there was the whole Liam factor.

  “Jed?” Brandy looked from him to Tru and back again. “Et tu?”

  Was he the type of man who went after the woman in which one of his partners had declared his interest? Nope. He’d never encroach on a buddy’s territory. Except—was she really his territory? Rather than discuss it with Brandy or Avery, he decided to play ignorant. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s very pretty.” Avery snorted. “But she also seems very confident. I didn’t think you liked confident women.”

  That got his attention. “I love confident women. It’s a very attractive quality. Just because someone is submissive doesn’t mean they lack for confidence. Those things are completely different areas of a personality.”

  “I’ve profiled a lot of submissive personalities, Jed. Most of them lack confidence. They tend to be needy.” She stirred sugar into her coffee that a waitress had just freshened.

  He couldn’t disagree with her because he’d noticed the same phenomenon. “It’s challenging to find a submissive who isn’t needy, but it’s not impossible. Look at Malcolm, Dustin, or Keith. They each have strong women who are okay with them spending a lot of time at work. Sure they encounter bumps in the road, but they work through them. A needy sub wouldn’t be able to withstand the stress of a Dom who is frequently at work.”

  Brandy nodded. Though he wasn’t sure whether the Chief engaged in any kind of BDSM, he knew she was very familiar with the lifestyle. With so many Doms under her command, she had to be. “Don’t forget Jordan. His submissive is strong and confident.”

  Jed hadn’t quite passed judgment on Amy. Sometimes she seemed fine, and other times she seemed a little too clingy. “Monaghan is always on the phone with her. He calls her at least three times a day when we’re away from home, and he texts her as well. Maybe he’s needy.”

  Brandy laughed, and Avery frowned as she considered his assertion.

  “He’s in love,” Brandy said. “I think it’s sweet the way he’s always checking up on her. As long as it doesn’t detract from his job, I’m okay with it.”

  “Actually, it’s probably good that he keeps in contact.” Avery’s frown disappeared. “Checking in lets him know that she’s okay, and it lets him concentrate on the investigation the rest of the time. It’s better than working with someone whose head is always in the clouds.”

  He heard the censure. His attention had wandered during their conversation. “We were finished discussing the investigation. We have no new information, and we won’t have anything until later. Hopefully Jordan and Dare will be able to find something at the vic’s house, and we have no idea what the autopsy will reveal.”

  The
waitress stopped at their table. “Sir, will you be having breakfast this morning? We’re featuring blueberry pancakes with your choice of bacon or sausage. We also have a selection of breakfast pastries.”

  “Pancakes—syrup, no blueberries, and sausage sound great. Can I get some wheat toast?” When the waitress left, Jed stood. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t feel the need to clarify where he meant to go, especially because he didn’t need to hear whatever comments either of his fellow agents might make.

  Lines from a song ran through Tru’s head. She didn’t know them all, but she wasn’t one to let that bother her. She embraced it, singing along silently and filling in her own lyrics for those she couldn’t recall. It was all background noise anyway, something to keep her mind from wandering while she recorded a few impressions of the food, wait staff, and the atmosphere in the dining room.

  The chair next to her, the one in the periphery of her vision because she was turned toward her notebook, moved. Surprised, she glanced up to see Agent Jed Kinsley sit down. He smiled widely, and his dark eyes sparkled. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

  Why in the world would he have a reason to apologize? She stared at his handsome face, searching it for signs he was actually sorry for something. “Why?”

  “For Agent Adair. You expected to see him this morning, and he wasn’t there.” He folded his hands on the table, and she noted the power in them.

  Tru didn’t quite know what to think of this apology. “He’s investigating a murder. He couldn’t have known when he said he’d see me in the morning that he’d be called away suddenly.”

  “Yeah, he could.”

  Tru didn’t know whether she should continue to be perturbed with Liam or not. Their meeting was coincidental, and in a few days she would be gone. Despite the visions, it’s not like she’d expected it to be the start of something beautiful. She hadn’t hoped for anything more than a night or two together. She wasn’t really a long-term kind of person anyway. And then there was the matter of her visions starring this tall, dark, and handsome drink of water. Having a vision was one thing. Knowing what they meant or how they fit together was a completely different thing, and often nothing was clear until after it happened.