Flora walked up with his order. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns filled one plate, and his pancakes on a smaller plate. She set them down.
Brie smiled. “Hi, Flora.”
“Hello. So you don’t sleep either?”
“Sure I do,” she said.
“He says the same thing.” She gave Brie a half smile. He’d never gotten a smile from Flora himself. “You need something to eat or drink?”
“Coffee, please,” Brie said.
When she left, Brie unrolled her napkin from her silverware and helped herself to a bite of Connor’s eggs.
He watched and smiled. “Have all you want. I’ll share.” He pushed the plate to the middle of the table.
“Don’t you at all see it as too easy?” She grabbed a piece of bacon and took a bite.
He picked up his own fork and helped himself to the eggs. “Who else would he have gotten to do his dirty work? He knew the guy’s record, knew what he was capable of.”
She finished off the slice of bacon. “I guess you’re right.” She reached for the pitcher of syrup and poured a little over one side of his stacked pancakes. Then she grabbed her fork. “Mmm.” She licked her lips and pulled the plate closer. “Why is it that other people’s food always tastes better than your own?”
He smiled then focused on her doubts about Bara. “Okay, if Agent Bara didn’t do this, then it’s Agent Calvin. I thought you didn’t believe Calvin could do this?”
“I don’t. Or maybe I don’t want to. Seriously, I don’t want to believe either of them would.” She cut herself another bite of pancakes and dished it into her mouth. “But wanting and wishing can be a waste of time.”
Not so, he thought. He’d practically wished her here and she’d shown up. “We’ll bring Agent Bara in for questioning in the morning. This should be enough to get the warrant to search his hotel room. We might find the phone with the text messages to Omen.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “At six I’ll call Mark and see if he thinks we should go for a warrant before talking to Bara.” Fork in hand, he leaned back in his chair and watched her eat.
“What?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Nothing. I just…I like seeing you eat my food.” He leaned forward and took another bite of his hash browns.
She slid the half-eaten pancakes aside and grabbed a bottle of ketchup. “For the eggs?”
“Only on your half.” A grin pulled at his lips, and he was completely baffled by why he found this so enjoyable. But he did. Then again, maybe it was just having her here.
After dousing half of the eggs, she ate her portion quickly, then grabbed the syrup and emptied the rest of it on the pancakes. She looked up and caught him staring.
“I’ll pay for it.”
“I’m not complaining.”
She stuffed another forkful of pancakes into her mouth, then licked her lips.
He grinned.
Flora appeared and dropped off Brie’s coffee and creams.
“Thank you.” Brie added cream to her cup. When Flora left, Brie pointed her spoon at him. “It’s not your fault. And coming here is still wrong.”
He didn’t want to talk about that here. “Any news on Carlos?”
She licked a drop of syrup from her bottom lip. “I called before I came here. The nurse said his vitals are great and he opened his eyes a few more times.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, it is.” She smiled.
Connor sipped his coffee, staring at her over the top. “Do you think Carlos knows who is behind his shooting?”
“Tory said he didn’t think Carlos knew who the leak was, but he could have figured it out on his way here.” She ate another bite of his pancakes. “What time do you think I can go see Rosaria?”
“I’ll check when I get to the office. I’ll have to go with you.” He probably could have gotten her in to see Rosaria on her own, but he wasn’t above using it as an excuse to spend time with her.
She nodded. “I go to work at four. So the earlier the better.”
“You may not need to go to the club.” He set his coffee down. “If the prints come back like we hope on Dillon Armand, ICE plans on arresting him.”
She frowned. “But we need evidence on the human trafficking case. And since he’s back here, I might be able to get something we could use. Can’t they give me just a few days?”
“ICE thinks they have enough leads to look into while holding him in custody for the false passport. Meanwhile, if I can find Regina Berger tomorrow, she might have something that links him with the trafficking.”
Reaching over, he stabbed a forkful of pancakes.
They sat there, eating in silence. Connor pierced the last bite of pancakes, but instead of bringing it to his lips, he held it to hers. She opened her mouth and took the offering. Slowly, he pulled the fork out from between her lips, finding it way sexier than it should be.
Their eyes met and held. A drop of syrup lingered on the corner of her mouth. Leaning over, he caught it with the pad of his finger, then brought it to his lips. As the sweetness touched his tongue, he ached to taste her. His mind took him back to her naked in bed and all the places his mouth had traveled. His jeans suddenly felt tighter.
She glanced away and picked up her coffee cup.
Several seconds passed before she looked up. “Can I be there tomorrow when you interview Bara?”
“I don’t know if that’s best. He considers you his peer, so he might be less likely to talk.”
She frowned but didn’t argue. He assumed it was because she knew he was right. Reaching for her purse, she said, “I should go.”
“Why? Stay. I like your company, Brie. I like you being here.”
“No, I…I’m sorry.” She snatched her coat off the chair.
Chapter Twenty-Five
His brain sought for something, anything, to say that would change her mind. “You can’t eat and run.” Connor watched her put her coat on.
She pulled out a twenty from her wallet. “Call me after your interview with Agent Bara.” She set the money on the table.
He dropped his hand over hers. “Brie, I don’t understand why we can’t see where this goes. We could—”
She slipped her hand out from under his. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
When she stood to leave, so did he, following her outside. The cold air hit, reminding him he’d left his jacket inside. “You know you never answered my question last night.”
She stopped at her car and started digging in her purse for her keys. “What question?”
“What do you want?”
She stopped searching and stared into her purse, as if the answer might be in there, lost with her keys. “I want this case to be over.” Lifting her eyes, she continued, “I want who hired Omen to be locked up, and I want Armand behind bars.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“It was a mistake, Connor.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I don’t. And I know I keep screwing up, saying stupid stuff, but—”
“It’s not stupid,” she said. “It’s the truth. You know what you want. I respect that.” She resumed her search and pulled out her wallet and handed it to him. “Hold this.”
He took it. She pulled out a handful of other items. “And this.” He caught the pack of tissues, a small tube of hand lotion, and two tampons.
“Let me take you out on a real date.”
She reached inside her purse again, taking out a few more items. “Can you grab these, too?” She shook the purse again. “Where the hell are my keys?”
Connor juggled the items. “Tell me you didn’t wake up thinking about me. Because I woke up thinking about you.”
“Finally!” She pulled her keys out and held out her purse for him to return the items in his hands.
He dropped them all into the opened bag. Except one tampon missed and hit the ground at his feet.
&
nbsp; She clicked open the locks—the beep piercing the quiet. “You’re right. I woke up thinking about you. About all the reasons this”—she waved a hand between them—“would be a stupid idea.”
He eased in and dropped his forehead against hers. “Then explain that to me. Because right now it feels like the best plan I’ve had in years.”
She put a hand on his chest, as if to push him away, but she didn’t. She left it there. A soft touch that had his heart thumping against his breastbone.
“You’re just horny.” She cut her big blue eyes up at him. “From feeding me pancakes.”
He laughed. “You didn’t have to open your mouth.”
“I like pancakes, and it was the last bite.”
He laughed again. “Okay, but for the record, I’m not horny.”
She lifted a questioning brow. Her hand still pressed against his chest felt so damn good. He wanted that touch everywhere.
“Right.” Her one word came loaded with skepticism. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”
The blood pooling down south answered the question. “Yes, I want to have sex with you, but there’s a difference between that and being horny.”
“And that sounds like a conversation we don’t need to have,” she said, but she still didn’t pull away.
He dipped his head down just a bit. “Why? Because it’ll make you horny?”
“No.” She glanced up just a bit, bringing her lips a whisper away from his. “Because…” she didn’t finish. He closed that tiny distance. He didn’t kiss her, just let his lips touch hers every so lightly. She inhaled and her breath brushed across his lips.
Then she kissed him. He slipped his hand under her jean jacket, around her tiny waist, and pulled her against him.
“No. No. No,” she muttered, pulling away. “I’m sorry.” She put two fingers over his lips. “Seriously. I don’t think this…I have to go.”
* * *
Brie went home, watched the ceiling fan whirl, and petted Psycho for an hour. She tried to forget how he’d tasted like bacon and syrup. How just one kiss made her hungry for so much more. More than someone like Connor could offer.
At six a.m., she walked out of the hospital elevator and down the hall. The lights were low. The sound of her shoes on the tile floor echoed too loudly. She stopped at the door of the family waiting room and peered inside. Two people were there, sleeping. One was an older woman whom Brie had seen several times before. Her husband, who’d been in a car accident, was in the room beside Carlos. The other person was Tory. He’d given the woman the recliner and he’d taken the almost cushionless love seat. His feet hung off the end and his head rested at a crooked angle.
For some reason, she was reminded of the moment when Carlos had told her he was going to ask Tory to marry him. Her lack of enthusiasm had pissed Carlos off. “I’m sorry,” Brie had apologized later. “I’m just afraid you’ll end up getting hurt.”
She’d been wrong. She’d never seen Carlos so happy. Tory grounded him. They wanted the same things, they laughed at the same jokes. They finished each other’s sentences. They meshed. They completed each other.
A part of her wanted that. A connection. Love. Family. A sofa buddy. A life mate. Her thoughts shot straight to Connor. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d accused her of wanting two kids and a white picket fence. Brie hated being alone. But she knew how easy it was for love to let you down, to make a fool out of you. She’d learned that with Todd and with her mom’s marriage to her dad.
So just because someone wanted something didn’t mean they had the guts to go after it.
Especially when the person who made you want it, made you ache for it, made you think it was possible, was a proud commitmentphobe who took happily-ever-after off the table.
No doubt about it. Letting herself get closer to Connor Pierce was like…“swimming with the sharks,” she whispered.
“Sharks?”
She turned and found Eliot standing behind her. Solid, dependable, and one of the few people in her life who hadn’t let her down. “How can you limp”—she lowered her voice—“and still not make a sound?” She moved away from the door.
“Stealth is my middle name,” he said, smiling.
She went in for a hug. A tight one.
He put his arms around her, and she soaked up his warmth, his love. This was safe.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just needed a hug.” She pulled away and they started walking toward the little alcove right outside the ICU doors where Eliot had set up camp.
He studied her. “What’s wrong?”
“If I said ‘everything,’ would you make me elaborate?”
“Talk to me.” He motioned for Brie to sit down.
She dropped down and Eliot took the chair next to her. “Why haven’t you ever remarried?”
He studied her. “Why do I get the feeling this is about Connor Pierce?”
“No lectures,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to lecture you.” He hesitated. “I told myself for years it was because I’d never love anyone as much as I loved Janice.”
“But?” she asked.
He looked at her. “I think the real truth is I was afraid. Afraid to love someone so much and lose them again.”
“But fear’s good, right? It keeps us from making the same stupid mistakes.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Fear does help us avoid the same pitfalls. But it also keeps us from living a full life. I think the trick is figuring out when the risk is worth it.”
“How do we do that?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled. “When I figure it out, I’ll tell you.”
They grew silent, then Brie offered up her other problem. “Agent Miles got back to me.” Eliot had been with her last night when she called him and requested the searches on older cases that Agent Bara had worked.
“This early?”
“He couldn’t sleep.”
“And?” He motioned for Brie to sit down.
“Omen, the hitman, was Agent Bara’s CI.”
He must have heard the hurt in her voice; he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. No, I don’t know. How could he…I liked him. And he’s got a kid, and now he’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life. Why would he do that?”
“It’s hard to understand why people do things.”
“And why would he use someone who had a direct connection to him? He had to have known we’d have checked for this.”
“He didn’t think the guy would get caught. And who else would he have used?”
She frowned. “That’s what Connor said, but—”
“You don’t think Bara did it?”
“I know it looks like he did. He’s got the Guatemala connection. And now we can tie him to the hit man.”
“What’s his Guatemala connection?”
“His parents are from there.”
“Well, the tie to Omen looks bad, but the connection to Guatemala is just bad luck. I mean, you lived in Guatemala for six months. And didn’t Agent Calvin’s daughter work over there on some mission for the church?”
She turned and stared at Eliot. “I know she did missions for her church, but was it Guatemala?”
“I think so. You should check. I could be wrong, but I think—”
“When was that?” she asked.
“His wife was bragging about her daughter’s missionary work at the barbeque. So what was that? Eight months ago?”
“The same time as the Sala case,” she muttered aloud.
Brie recalled her earlier conversation with Connor. You think someone found out we were on to the gunrunning operation and threatened his family if he didn’t turn over information?
* * *
“This is a federal agent you’re talking about,” Judge Bond said, wearing his bathrobe and not looking happy at being woken up before seven in the morning.
“I know that,” Connor said. “Th
at’s why it’s important we get the warrant. He could ditch the evidence if we don’t move quickly.”
Connor had called Mark and Juan at five-thirty a.m., and they all agreed to go for a warrant. But they needed to get the right judge. The fact that the FBI involvement was based on hearsay didn’t help. Hence why Connor came himself. He personally knew Judge Bond, who called him every Christmas and roped him into helping with his and his wife’s Toys for Tots program.
The judge let out a big gulp of air. “Are you using our acquaintance to help get this warrant?”
“Yes, sir, I am. But I’ve known you for eight years, have I ever come to you before?”
“No.” The judge sat down at his kitchen table and continued to stare at him. “This could come back and bite you, and more importantly me, in the ass.”
Connor inhaled. “I don’t think it will.”
“Wait. This isn’t even a cold case. Why are you working it?”
“Sergeant Brown assigned us to it.”
“Seriously? Brown’s not what I’d call your biggest fan.”
“But he knows we close cases.”
“True.” He tugged at his robe. “If I do this, you’re going to help chair my wife’s Toys for Tots campaign. We have a committee meeting next week to start planning. Last year, Glencoe PD donated three times as much as Anniston PD.”
“I’d be honored to be on the board.”
Five minutes later, Connor walked out with a signed warrant. Mark was waiting in Connor’s car.
“Got it.” Connor handed him the paper and crawled behind the wheel.
“Okay, let’s go visit an agent and search a hotel room.”
Connor pulled out of the judge’s driveway.
“Hmm.” Mark chuckled.
Connor glanced at him. “What?”
“Do you always drive around with a tampon in your cup holder?”
“Brie dropped it,” he said in a clipped tone.
Mark grinned then rubbed a hand over his mouth. “How are things going between you two?”
“Don’t start.” Connor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“I’m not. I’m…genuinely concerned, and maybe curious. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you actually like her. So…?”
Don't Look Back Page 24
