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What went before... Six years ago, San Diego, California
I straightened my little black dress, making sure the seams of my stockings were straight. My SAIC had pulled me out of the basement when they discovered that I had lots of practice in acting rich because I was rich. It was kinda fun to watch them figure it out.
Now I was the perfect bait. A self-made woman on the verge of thirty who felt the need to compete with women a decade younger. This was so much better than the basement.
Manuel Garcia was slick. Slick, charming and a homicidal maniac. Not that he was showing it as he wined and dined me. Of course, he had no idea he was courting an FBI agent, which was going to make it all the sweeter when he went down in a ball of flames.
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Now...
When I stopped to really think about it, something deep inside told me I knew Jonah was safe. That I’d have become a blubbering idiot if anything really happened to him. Which, while reassuring me that he was fine, did nothing to cure the butterflies still doing somersaults in my stomach.
I didn’t do relationships, didn’t do couples, didn’t do attachments. It wasn’t because I was mentally scarred or anything, it was just that I didn’t have the practice, and I refused to try something I wouldn’t excel at. Sex with Summers had been something I excelled at, I thought with a grin.
But now, with this new realization, I figured even that bit of fun was over. Hell, he was pissed at me for siding with the FBI anyway, so it wasn’t like I’d be getting any action when and if we ever reunited, but the thought of it would have helped me through a few lonely nights in the future.
By the time Simonson arrived, it was almost dark, so we retreated to the safe house we’d occupied last night. The conversation as we ate was considerably subdued. None of us had realized how much Farrell and Jonah brought to the table, literally, until they were gone.
I slept restlessly that night, for obvious reasons...I’d become used to sharing a bed, to fighting for the covers, to throwing my arm over something other than a pillow. How in the hell that happened I’d never know.
I wasn’t exactly chipper as we gathered for coffee and a quick update the next morning, but my mood brightened considerably when we learned that Farrell and Jonah, as well as their shadow unit, were fine. The agents had checked in with dispatch the night before, complaining of busted cell phone coverage, but the dispatcher hadn’t been told there was any particular urgency in relaying the information. He’d been suitably informed, as had the rest of the staff, at morning roll call.
Farrell and Jonah were exactly where we thought they might be, at Grace Pearce’s estate.
But there was an added wrinkle none of us had even considered remotely likely. Farrell had fired Trang. The agent didn’t have many other details, just that Farrell had sent word to them while they were sitting outside the gate.
It was one hell of a bombshell, to say the least. So what had Trang done to finally push Farrell to such drastic measures? Given the not-so-great relations between our camps, we might never know. Kavenaugh assigned an agent to try and pick up Trang’s trail, since he was an almost-suspect, minus motive, of course.
And with that thought in my head, I went right back to being mad that Jonah had chosen Farrell, his employer and pseudo-friend, over us, over me. Well, piss on him.
We’d solve this damned thing with or without his help.
I checked my cell for any calls from Monica Foudy and found nothing. That worried me a bit, since she’d been reliable so far, and should have arrived last night, but perhaps something had slowed her down. I wasn’t concerned she’d been targeted because she was simply too removed from the situation. These guys might be smart and have a gazillion dollars to throw around, but they weren’t God, and certainly didn’t know I’d hired the woman, not after the precautions we’d taken with burner phones and couriers.
We reconvened at Division and started at the beginning, picking Sara’s brain for all she could remember about Dave Gordon. Her recollections weren’t all that rosy. It sounded like the kid had been a monumental prick back then. It remained to be seen what the hell he’d been doing with himself for the last ten years or so. Sure, we could see all the baseline information on the sheet the junior agents had put together, but it didn’t give us a real picture of the boy he’d been and the man he now was.
Simonson queued up the video, and we all sat down to pick it apart.
I got nothing but confidence and cockiness. Sara pretty much echoed those thoughts, but I had to wonder how much of what she saw was colored by her childhood. After all, it’d been her and Wes against the Dave Gordons and Dr. Greens of the world. And look what had happened to Wes.
Simonson had a bit of a different take. “That interview amused him greatly,” he said, leaning back in his chair until it balanced on only two legs. “He’s playing a game, thinks he’s smarter than all of us. Not sure what the game is, though. Hell, even when we catch him, I’m not sure we’ll find out. Unless he wants to tell us. He’s smart, he knows he’s smart, and he feels invincible. Something is giving him that confidence, something big. Or someone big.”
I mulled over his words. “Why didn’t Summers figure it out?”
Simonson smiled. “Oh, he did. He let Gordon play him a bit, to see how far he’d take it. Gordon dangled just enough bait to interest you, then closed up.”
That sounded hauntingly familiar. Like the money red herring in Oklahoma the other day. Like so many other instances in the past week or so.
“Damn it, it’s rabbit trail after rabbit trail with this guy,” Kavenaugh growled.
I felt his frustration. I was just afraid that one of these times the rabbit trail would lead to Alice’s Wonderland.
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Jonah showed up at about noon bearing information. First on the list was Trang’s departure.
“Heath fired Trang for blocking the cell waves. Used a military jammer that blacked out all of Grace’s estate and half the damned neighborhood. Just like he did at CASI after Igor. Heath about blew a gasket when we figured it out, told Trang to hit the street and not look back. He went too far.”
On that I had to agree, but it was almost amusing to think how pissed Farrell must have been when none of his contacts could get in touch with him.
“How does that affect us right now?” Brian asked. “Do we know where he went, what he’s doing?”
I understood his question for what it was. Trang was the wildest card of all—unpredictable and unstable.
“Heath’s got someone on him in case he nuts up again, but I don’t think he’ll be a problem. He looked ... dazed, shattered, when he left. He’s licking his wounds somewhere.” He pushed a thick manila folder across the desk. “A gift from Heath.”
The file Farrell had compiled was undoubtedly full of inadmissible information. It was what spies did. I wasn’t touching it with a ten-foot pole, nor were Kavenaugh or Underwood, but there was no reason the Dallas cop and his girlfriend couldn’t look at it. Sneaky.
I walked to the file cabinet and pulled out all of Foudy’s information about Meece and CASI and handed it to them as well. In looking at both sets of not-so-kosher information they might find something we hadn’t considered, see a trend we wouldn’t be able to identify.
Summers looked at me with a raised eyebrow that set my blood to boiling. I was the federal agent here, not him. I didn’t share information, especially with the man I’d been sharing a bed with, that could be pivotal to a case. Hell, I didn’t share information, period. By handing that dossier over to Covington and Roney I’d shown more trust in my teammates than I had in the last decade.
I cold-shouldered him and turned to Simonson, who’d been watching our little exchange with a fascinated expression, which he quickly smoothed into banality.
But Summers was having none of it. His voice was oh-so polite, but there was an undertone of command, and anger, when he spoke. “Arin, a word, please.”
I tilted my head and considered for a very long moment before I pushed to my feet. We could have it out here like high schoolers, or be adults and take it outside. So I’d be an adult, but if he lifted a finger to compel me, I was gonna shoot him.
The smoker’s courtyard was blessedly empty. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone use it. Maybe the Denver Division was exceedingly healthy. I swung to face Jonah, tired of my own prevarication. His face was set in careful lines, as if bracing for a blow.
Damn. I couldn’t unload on him when he looked that way. So instead I sighed. “I know why I made the decision I did, how about you?”
His mouth tightened. “Instead of siding with the woman I’ve been making love with?”
His tone was just even and clinical enough to piss me off. My heart had been in my goddamned throat the entire time he’d been gone, the hours we couldn’t reach them. And he thought he’d give me a guilt trip? Use pretty words to get his way? He was wrong.
“We’ve been fucking, Jonah. No more, no less. If we live through this, you’ll go back to CASI and I’ll pick up another case, so don’t make it more than it is. Don’t make it sound like I made a mistake in thinking with my brain instead of my libido.”
That got a response. His mouth did more than tighten, and for a moment I thought he’d grab me, try to shake some sense into me. Instead, he clenched his fists by his sides.
“No, Arin,” he said, true anger in his expression. “You don’t get to decide when or if we’re done. We decide that. I’m not one of your exes, someone who’ll stay friends, and maybe even fuck buddies.
“You made your mind up on how that whole scene was going to play before you even looked at me,” he accused. “You wanted a way out of what we’re exploring together, and this was it. Well, I did the right thing, stayed with Heath so I could watch him, kept his trust, so in case I was wrong about him, in case all of my psychiatric training showed me as a fool, I’d be there to restrain him if things got hairy. So don’t get up on your high horse and tell me what I did and didn’t do. You copped out, took the easy way.”
His words hit me like a slap to the face. I braced myself, ready to tell him how wrong he was, but the reality of it bowed my shoulders. He was right. One hundred percent right. I had walked out here full of righteous indignation, full of how I was going to maneuver past him, whether I realized it consciously or not. The man knew me better than I knew myself. It was humbling—and scary as hell.
Me, Arin Thomas, the one who always got her man, had disappointed the one she should have never doubted. It was a bitter, painful pill to swallow. And worse? I had no idea if I should even expect him to give me a second chance.
“You’re right,” I said, and smiled a little at the surprise on his face. “But it was a fifty-fifty cop out. You scare me to death, and this did seem like the best thing for everyone. For you and Farrell to go back to CASI and for me to stay here and solve this thing. It’s what I do, after all.” I tried a crooked, apologetic smile on for size. Not a look I was all that comfortable with.
He scrutinized me for a long moment, then reached out to push a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’ll do for now. But don’t think this is over, Arin. What we’ve started here? It’s just the beginning.” A smile creased his face, setting up a swirl of delicious warmth inside me. “And when this is all said and done, we’ll figure out where to begin again.”
****
Jonah left me with a long, slow kiss that curled my toes and probably would have engendered some catcalls from the other agents if I hadn’t already given them the evil eye. As it was, Kavenaugh gave me a knowing wink. Good-looking and talented in bed as he was, he didn’t hold a candle to Jonah Summers. And if that didn’t give me a warm fuzzy to keep me warm through the night, nothing else would.