I did my best not to be bummed out by the endless spam emails I had to wade through as I hunched over my laptop, perched on my bed with Tom curled up against me in a sunbeam.
“Freeloader,” I grumbled at him while rubbing his irresistible belly, the upside-down orange tabby opening one eye to alert me to the fact I had about half a second remaining before he clawed me for such impertinence. “Get a job, would you?”
His eye closed slowly again, a deep, rumbling purr emerging for about three seconds before he fell asleep again.
Not his fault that my triumphant return home after a successful wrap-up of a case ended in yet again falling into doldrums over the fact no one wanted to hire me even though I had an excellent track record, thanks.
Two bodies, two cases, two wins. I was a sure thing.
Except, of course, as I sank back into my pillows and sighed, I had to admit Elle’s furious talk with me on the way home from the hothouse caper? Rather true in its simplicity.
“If you ever,” she said, voice shaking, “do anything that stupid again on my watch? I’ll shoot you myself.”
This after she and Rick found me, two-fisting guns over the groaning and slowly waking Evan and Lainey after Annie ran for the house to bring them to the scene. The look on her face when she’d walked through the doors into the heat-soaked space, took in my situation and met my eyes?
I should have felt embarrassed, maybe, or ashamed of myself. Instead, her shocked incredulity, her utter silence and floored surprise was, to be truthful, invigorating.
Her partner’s ranting about my reckless behavior aside, and Elle’s personal threat before dropping me off at home, did little to cut through the certainty that carried me upstairs to my apartment, to a long, hot shower and bed and Tom snuggles, leading me here, to this bright morning with clean and shining hair heavily conditioned and luxurious, hands scrubbed to a modicum of normalcy I’d finish off with a personal mani in a little bit while contemplating my next move, my next job.
Let’s face it. My next hit of adrenaline.
This job might get me killed at some point (maybe by Elle herself) but I was going to die happy.
Someone knocked on the door, waking Tom who grumbled before rolling away and hopping down to seek out his food bowl. I opened the door a moment later to find Elle herself on the other side, and ushered her in immediately, surprised to find her here, that unreadable expression of hers making me nervous for some reason.
Made worse when someone else’s footsteps pounded up the stairs and, a moment later, Dad joined us. From the slight tightening around Elle’s eyes, she hadn’t intended to have a conversation with my FBI father just yet, but she didn’t retreat and held her ground in a way that made me wonder if they’d been separated at birth or something.
Peas in a pod, those two.
“We need to talk, all of us.” Dad firmly closed the door behind him, arms crossing over his chest, shoulders back, scowl on his face, that grim but kind agent who I loved disappearing into a man with a mission I knew I wasn’t going to appreciate, the man who had, ultimately, driven me away in the first place.
He was not doing this here and now in front of Elle. I’d avoided him since arriving home but planned to talk to him in short order. Our conversation was between us, had nothing to do with Elle, so he wasn’t about to intrude on my business, was he?
Yes, actually. He was. Did he know I might never forgive him for it?
“Agent Walker,” Elle said, that level tone of hers (and usually his) unchanged from normal.
“Detective.” Dad almost spit that word out.
“If you don’t mind, Dad,” I said, “Elle isn’t here to see you.”
“I couldn’t care less if she’s visiting the queen,” he snarled back. “I’m done with this foolishness, Petal. I hear you put yourself in danger again, didn’t listen to your handler,” he raggedly gestured at Elle, hands shaking, “cornered a murderer and interrogated her without police backup.” Meaning he’d been spying on me, checked into my case, invaded my professional privacy. Not cool, Dad. So not cool.
“All true,” Elle said, same flat voice, same flat expression, seemingly unphased by his anger while I vibrated with growing disquiet of my own.
“I trusted you to keep my daughter safe,” Dad said. His whole body trembled now, his anxiety and anger visible. It took a lot to shake my FBI father and I guess I succeeded. “She has no training, no experience, and you insist on throwing her into a situation she can’t handle.”
“I did handle it,” I snapped. “In case you missed it.” Oh, boy.
Petal. Shut up.
Dad vibrated with rage. “I only agreed to this because you promised me,” he had to swallow, voice crackling, “promised me, both of you, Petal wouldn’t be in any danger. You lied to me.”
Elle opened her mouth to speak, maybe to apologize, but in that instant, something broke inside me and I looked up at my dad, my loving and commanding and by-the-book dad.
And broke his heart.
“I’m an adult,” I said, knowing I sounded cold, unable to add any warmth or even anger to my voice because I told him a long time ago he couldn’t control me. It was why I left at eighteen. Had he forgotten? “You don’t get a say in what I do, Dad. And don’t use the not under your roof line. I’ll leave. You know I will.”
Dad faced me down, his fury and worry leaking out of him as he blanched, hands dropping to his sides, real hurt crossing his handsome face before he flinched a little, settling into stoic I knew was a lie.
The door opened again to our silence, Pops appearing. It was clear from his shaken appearance he’d overheard what I’d said. He immediately grasped Dad’s arm, tugging him toward the exit, dark eyes settling on me, full of worry and his own particular pain. I didn’t relent, couldn’t. I loved my fathers, but damn it, this was my life.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Pops said. “Andy.”
Dad spun and marched past my Asian father, thudding his way down the stairs, gone in a flash. Pops lingered a moment before nodding to me, to Elle, and leaving, closing the door softly behind him.
I stared after them, wanting to go after them, hug them, tell them I loved them, make things right. This was my fault, and I hadn’t meant to hurt either of them, especially not Dad of all people.
But Elle was talking and, in a daze of the aftermath of my fathers and their retreat, it took me a moment to process what she was saying while my pounding heart finally caught up with me.
“I agree with your father,” she said, remorse making her voice hoarse. She looked away, down at Tom who was rubbing against her leg, looking for attention. His deep and frog-like demand for a pat or two was ignored as she went on. “I never should have dragged you into this. You’re a civilian, not even a CI. Like it or not, I made a mistake. I believed in you, Petal, and you went over the line I asked you not to cross.”
Mute, I waited for her to wrap up our divorce.
“I put you in the line of fire, and that’s on me. But you went against what I asked of you, and that’s on you. So, I guess that means we can’t work together, Petal. Because I have to be able to trust you.” She met my eyes at last, hers haunted. “And you have to be able to trust me, that I’ll be there for you, to have your back.”
I opened my mouth to protest because for some reason it seemed like the latter was much more damaging to our odd little partnership than the former. She doubted I trusted her? That was nuts.
There was only one tactic I could use. And I lobbed it in a calm and steady voice like none of what she said made a difference or changed my mind.
“I’m going to do this job regardless,” I said.
Elle paused, nodded.
“Is the captain happy?” I had to know.
She laughed then, low and sad. “He’s thrilled,” she said. “Not thrilled about your part in it, but how fast the case wrapped. And saving taxpayer dollars. No protest from him. You got the job done, that’s all he really cares about.”
“And Rick’s pissed?” I grinned then, couldn’t help it.
This time when she chuckled there was real humor in it, along with a wink. “Furious,” she said. “It’s awesome.” Her following sigh and how her body seemed to uncoil told me I’d hit the right spot.
“What’s going to happen to Annie?” I hadn’t asked any questions of her yesterday, her initial threat to shoot me making for a long and quiet drive home.
“The DA agreed to expunge her record,” Elle said. “Evan and Lainey are going to prison, though there’s already whispers Evan’s turning state’s evidence against the Quatros, so who knows how long he’ll get.” Didn’t think much of his survival chances if he turned against the gang after losing them all that merchandise. Well, not my problem. “Catherine’s going to keep the program going, with Annie’s help.” Huh. Annie decided to stay, then, instead of starting over? No judging, it was her life (take that, Dad). And maybe that meant their family might get a happy ending. “I heard Catherine tell Bob she wants a divorce. So, I guess that’s that.” Well, he did cheat on her, so fair enough. “Oh, and Latonya Johnson?” My curiosity perked, about to be satisfied. “Turns out she’s really into the whole greenhouse thing, loves it. Catherine’s planning to move her and her kid to the place and hire her full time. On one condition.” She shook her head. “Bae Ortega had to stay, too.”
Wow. That happily ever after was totally worth it.
“So, all’s well that ends well.” I inhaled slowly, holding Elle’s gaze with mine while the detective finally sighed and shrugged and smiled, her tawny hair catching sunlight, badge winking at her hip as she shook her head, shoulders rounding under her dark suit jacket.
“Petal.” She hesitated, face curving into real worry, showing me Elle Gordon the woman, not the detective.
“I’m good at this,” I said. “We both know it. Don’t cut me out. I’ll do better, I promise.”
Elle laughed at that. “Liar.” She paused one more moment, hands on her hips, before she tossed them in the air. “Fine. I’ll keep you on the list. But I swear to god, Petal, you pull a stunt like this on me again…”
“Gun. Bullet. Me. I read you, loud and clear.” I grinned.
Elle groaned softly before turning to go. “You’re going to be the death of me, kid.”
I listened to her footsteps retreat, knowing that conversation was the easier of the two, but unprepared to confront my fathers just yet. Cowardly, maybe, but I convinced myself I needed not only distance and time to sort out what I had to say before I blurted something that would only make things worse but a shoulder to cry on.
Ten minutes later, my car’s radio booming my favorite song, I headed for DC and the one person in the world who would understand.
***