The remainder of the flight passed in silence as Josh contemplated his relationship with Rachael Voss. No one meant more to him than she did. But they had both agreed long ago that they could never be more than partners. So why did he feel hesitant to act on the attraction he felt toward Nala Chang? It wasn’t as if he was contemplating cheating on a wife or girlfriend.
He stared at Chang’s back for a while, admiring the curve of her hip and the gentle slope of her neck. When his admiration started to drift into lurid imaginings of what they might do in that private jet all by themselves, he forced himself to turn away again.
In spite of his vow to remain awake, after a while the hum of the engines and the darkness of the cabin lulled him and he drifted off, only to wake a short time later to the jerk of the wheels touching down on the tarmac. He woke to find Chang watching him, a sleepy smile on her face. They both glanced away, but the air inside the cabin felt electric with unspoken potential.
When they stepped off the plane in D.C., Josh wondered what would have happened if the flight had been longer, and was torn between relief and disappointment that he would never know. But it was for the best. The thought of Voss finding out he’d had sex with Chang mid-flight, during a case—or at all, for that matter—made him queasy.
Not for the first time, he considered the possibility that he would never be able to have a normal relationship. And, also not for the first time, it occurred to him that maybe he didn’t really want one after all.
“So, what’s the plan?” Chang asked.
Josh had put some thought into it. “No way there isn’t someone on duty at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, even at this time of night. Satellites don’t sleep. But we want Sean McCandless’s boss, so as much as I hate to wait, I figure we get there at eight a.m. so nobody can try telling us to come back tomorrow.”
Chang nodded. “Sounds logical. And in the meantime?”
“Go home, get a few hours’ sleep, get washed up.”
“It’d take me almost two hours to get there from here, and the same to get back. There doesn’t seem much point. But I would love a shower.”
Josh hesitated, watched her watching him with a spark of mischief in her eyes, and he laughed. “I have a shower.”
“And a spare room where you can get some sleep.”
She grinned. “Spoilsport.”
Josh had turned his cell phone off for the plane ride. Now he turned it back on, watching it power up, the screen lighting. He’d expected a message from Voss, letting him know how the McCandless situation went down in Hartford, so he waited for the phone to beep, showing him that he had voice mail. When it didn’t, he frowned, troubled, and started scanning his contacts list to call her, but then that familiar double beep came after all.
But it wasn’t a voice mail. What he’d gotten was a single text message from Theodora Wood, the director of the ICD. Josh staggered to a halt in the middle of the terminal. His fear must have been plain on his face, because when Chang turned to see what had halted him, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.
“Josh, what is it?”
He ignored her, trying to stave off the panic that tried to seize him. Director Wood tended to leave things like texting to her subordinates. Any message should have come from Assistant Director Unger or from his own partner—this was Voss’s case after all.
He opened the message. It’s your case, Josh. Voss shot, in surgery now. WILL recover. Call me directly to report. Don’t turn your phone off again. And watch your back.
“Stupid,” he whispered to himself, staring at the message. “What the fuck’s wrong with me?”
“What do you mean?” Chang asked.
Josh looked at her, feeling himself come unmoored. “I’m so used to shutting my phone off for commercial flights, I wasn’t even thinking. And such a short flight, I just … Fuck!”
“What is it?”
He handed her the phone and she stared at the open text message for a few seconds before giving it back. Josh slid it into his pocket, barely aware of Chang’s hand returning to rest on his arm again.
“You love her,” Chang said. It wasn’t a question.
Josh looked into those lovely brown eyes. “Of course I do. She’s my partner.”
“It’s more than that.”
“She’s been shot. I shouldn’t be worried about her?”
Chang squeezed his arm, letting the subject drop. “Director Wood says Voss will recover. She’s going to be all right.”
“I never should have left her.”
“And maybe you would have caught a bullet, too. I wouldn’t have liked that very much.”
Josh looked at her. Somehow she had managed to convey a dozen meanings in that one sentence, not just in words but in tone. She wanted to comfort him, wanted to understand him and reassure him, and yet her voice was playful, tapping into the bone-deep attraction that had been simmering between them since they’d first met. He knew she didn’t want to confuse him, but for a few seconds all he could think about was how soft her skin would be under his hands, and that wasn’t helping at all.
“Nala …”
“What was that about watching your back?” she asked, shifting gears.
Josh blinked, appreciating that she knew now was not the time. Troubled, he frowned deeply and pulled the phone out again to reread the message, wondering the same thing. He had been so focused on Voss being shot that he had barely paid attention to that cryptic warning.
Now he returned the call, glancing up at Chang. “Let’s find out.”