Ignoring him, Jonah returned his attention to the screen and resumed typing. He wasn’t ready to put in writing his feelings about the shoddy investigation because law enforcement officers stuck together, even sometimes when they shouldn’t. Malcolm might let him reopen the case, but he’d have to attack it from a different angle such as focusing on the differences between the DNA testing capabilities now compared to back then, or even the reporting systems and ease of use now.
“Um, hello,” Avery said, not taking the hint. He shut the door, crossed the room, and dropped in the chair across from Jonah. His large desk might have separated them, but Avery still felt too close for Jonah’s comfort.
“What?” Jonah asked, not bothering to hide his exasperation.
“You were going to tell me what’s bothering you before Frick and Frack interrupted us in the men’s room,” Avery said.
Jonah snorted. Frick and Frack was perfect for Paxton and Meyers. “I was going to do no such thing.” Jonah met Avery’s gaze. “It would seem like you were worried about your blind date for nothing.” He was Avery’s supervisor, so he had to refrain from commenting on Avery’s lunchtime activities.
“You’re looking at me like you want to kill me?” Avery said softly. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “I’m just working on something I need to pitch to Deputy Director Malcolm.”
“Is it something I’m familiar with?”
Jonah shook his head. “It was something a friend mentioned to me last night. I looked into it over lunch, and her hunch was right.” He glanced at the clock and noticed he had five minutes to get to Malcolm’s office, so he printed what he’d typed before crossing the room to pull it off the printer. “I need to meet with Malcolm, but it shouldn’t take long. We can begin working on our next phase of cybercrime detection and prevention when I get back. Trexler really had a stick up his ass over it yesterday.”
“You’re going to meet the director wearing a coffee-stained shirt?” Avery asked.
Jonah had forgotten all about it and was glad Avery had said something. Rather than stare at the printer while it spat out his documents, he crossed to his closet. Jonah could feel Avery’s eyes on him as he started unbuttoning his shirt, but it didn’t stop him or even slow him down until he heard Avery suck in a sharp breath when he got an eyeful of the tattoo inked across his back. Jonah regretted his hasty action and quickly tossed the soiled shirt into the closet and pulled on a clean one. He’d nearly fitted all the buttons through the holes before Avery spoke again.
“Wow.” Jonah imagined Avery’s breath ghosting over his skin while he took a closer look, running a finger over the intricately inked design or traced the dark lines with his tongue. A shiver of arousal snaked through Jonah’s body, which only made him angrier. “That is one magnificent beast,” Avery continued, completely unaware of the storm gathering inside Jonah. “What is it? Something mythic?”
“No,” Jonah said curtly. “It’s deeply personal, and I don’t wish to talk about it.”
“Oh,” Avery said sadly. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”
He knew his intern would resemble a kicked puppy if he looked at him, so Jonah kept his back turned to Avery. He tucked in his shirt as best he could without unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He wrenched open the door and left without another word. Jonah stopped short when he saw the vase of colorful flowers sitting on the corner of Avery’s desk. He had the strongest urge to pick it up and launch it across the room. What the fuck? This wasn’t the set of one of the reality housewife shows Kendall loved so much. He didn’t throw things in a fit of rage.
Jonah needed to get laid. His hand wasn’t getting the job done, and it was making him jealous of anyone getting action. He felt downright mean, and it wasn’t cool. Desiree’s eyes widened when she saw him coming, so he got a grip on his emotions and forced a smile.
“Is he back?” Jonah asked, aiming for a friendly tone.
Desiree visibly relaxed. “Yes, and he’s expecting you.”
“Thanks, Desiree.” Jonah handed her the cookies he bought from the café.
“You’re so sweet. Can I get you some coffee or something?”
With his luck, Jonah would end up wearing another cup, and he was down to his last spare shirt at the office. “No, thanks.” Then Jonah realized he’d left without grabbing the document from his printer. He briefly debated going back to get it but nixed the idea. He had the main details memorized, and he could always email additional information if Malcolm wanted more.
Jonah knocked on Malcolm’s door.
“Come in,” the deputy director said.
Jonah twisted the knob and opened the door. Here goes nothing was his first thought, but he recalled how much was truly at stake—jeopardizing his career by breaking protocol, rectifying injustice, and getting peace for a dear friend Jonah wasn’t ready to say goodbye to yet.
Here goes everything.
“Jonah, this is a pleasant surprise,” the deputy director said jovially, greeting him more like a favorite uncle than a powerfully ranked member of the bureau. Smiling, he gestured for Jonah to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Charlie Malcolm was the kind of guy who maintained a youthful appearance well past the time most men started exhibiting crow’s feet and laugh lines. He’d only recently started showing a bit of wear and tear, and his blond hair had begun to gray at the temples. If Jonah hadn’t known better, he would’ve guessed the deputy director was forty years old instead of approaching sixty.
Jonah knew a brilliant mind lurked behind the sparkling blue eyes and brilliant smile though. The deputy director had worked in law enforcement for almost four decades, starting as a sheriff’s deputy in Fulton County before moving back home and accepting a position with the Savannah Police Department. His first partner with SPD was a rookie cop named Ellen St. John. Everyone had expected Malcolm to climb the ladder at the police department, but he’d chosen to pursue a new path with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation instead, climbing to the second-highest rank in the department. His former partner, now Ellen Rigby, ascended to the highest rung at the SPD and wore her police commissioner title with much pride.
Malcolm had quipped more than once that his job was more on the political end of the spectrum instead of law and order these days. He performed the balance brilliantly, and it was only a matter of time before Malcolm became the director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigations. Jonah wished the office pool wagered on when the current director would retire instead of people guessing when he’d “Hulk out.”
“Thanks for seeing me, sir,” Jonah replied. “I won’t take much of your time.”
The deputy director shook his head and sighed. “How many times do I need to tell you to call me Malcolm when it’s just the two of us?”
“At least once more, sir,” Jonah joked.
“Fine. Have it your way,” Malcolm said. “What can I do for you?”
Knowing the director was a busy man, Jonah got straight to the point. He filled Malcolm in on everything he knew so far, sticking to facts and leaving out Marla’s hunches and his conjecture. Cops trust their own instincts but weren’t as eager to rely on anyone else’s. Jonah watched as the deputy director morphed from friendly uncle to intrigued lawman to shrewd politician in a matter of minutes. Jonah couldn’t blame him. If he was correct, and he’d bet his next paycheck on it, reopening the case could have huge repercussions. Malcolm would need hard proof before he would be willing to take steps that could tarnish a lawman’s reputation and bring unwanted attention on their agency or the police department.
“You have my attention,” Malcolm said once Jonah finished.
“Sir, I can’t see any other course of action except to reopen the Ison investigation.”
Malcolm placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “How certain are you of these facts, Jonah? What if Bo Cahill’s arrest dates were entered into t
he computer incorrectly? Say the person transposed a number or used the wrong month. For the first ten years of marriage, I thought my wife’s birthday was March fifteenth instead of May fifteenth. Danielle would smile and tell me it was better to receive a birthday gift two months early than two months late. Still, it’s a miracle Danielle and I celebrated our thirty-fifth anniversary this past weekend.”
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you, Jonah,” Malcolm said, briefly slipping back into fond uncle mode before continuing. “What if he had been released on bail, but the details weren’t properly documented.”
Jonah wanted to dispute Malcolm’s suggestion, but, how could he? Someone might have entered dates incorrectly or only included partial information. “Can I at least have your permission to request a copy of the file from DeKalb County?”
“Have you spoken to Trexler about this?” Malcolm asked, his right brow arching toward his hairline. “You know that is the proper chain of command.”
Jonah barely bit back a frustrated groan. “I do know, sir, but you have to agree Supervisory Agent Trexler isn’t very open to my suggestions.” Trexler had a habit of dialing back his criticism of Jonah when Malcolm was present, but his contempt had been barely veiled the previous day.
“I know you think it’s the case,” Malcolm countered. Jonah wanted to ask the deputy director to name one idea of Jonah’s that Trexler had liked, but the older man held up a hand before he could form the words. “Look, I know you have a strained relationship with Butch, but going behind his back will do nothing to repair the fractures. He will view our conversation as an act of insubordination and could write you up for breaching protocol, and he’d be well within his right.”
Jonah recognized a losing battle when he saw one. He’d be wise to retreat to his office and come up with another battle plan to deal with Trexler instead of risking his good standing with the deputy director. “I understand, sir. I will take your advice. Thank you for your time.”
“Hold up,” Malcolm said when Jonah started to rise.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, sitting back down in the chair.
“I’m curious how you found out about this case? Was it something introduced through your podcast?” Malcolm asked.
“No,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “Earl Ison and I have a mutual friend who was recently diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. She never believed that Bo Cahill killed Earl and would like to see the real killer brought to justice before she dies.”
The deputy director’s blue eyes softened, and he was back to Uncle Charlie again. “It’s a noble thing you’re doing for your friend. Talk to Trexler, Jonah. I will back you up if he asks me for my opinion. He might surprise you.”
I won’t hold my breath. “Thank you, sir.”
Desiree smiled at Jonah when he exited Malcolm’s office. “Avery stopped by with this,” she said, handing him an interoffice envelope. “He thought you might need it for your meeting.”
Jonah wasn’t surprised by Avery’s thoughtful gesture even after his display of surliness and abrupt departure, nor was he a stranger to the guilt surging through his body.
“Avery looked like a kicked puppy,” Desiree continued, jabbing a finger in his conscience. “Someone should do something nice to cheer him up.” She batted her eyelashes innocently. Jonah didn’t fall for her act. He met and held her shrewd gaze until the woman’s cheeks turned pink, and she broke their staring match to roll her eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay out of it.” She wouldn’t, but Jonah would take the reprieve for as long as it lasted.
Jonah’s mood was darker than ever. Nothing about the past twenty-four hours had gone his way, and he was taking it out on the wrong people. He needed to get his shit together and put his energy where he needed it most, which was preparing—emotionally and physically—for a meeting with Trexler. He swung by the break room to get his caramel fix and was further irritated when he saw they were all out of Twix. He settled for a Milky Way and bought a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for Avery since they were his favorite. It was lame as far as peace offerings went, but it was better than nothing.
Avery wasn’t at his desk when Jonah got back, so he left the candy on Avery’s desk and headed inside his office. The space often felt like the eye of a storm, peaceful and serene, allowing him to block out the chaos swirling like howling winds on the other side of the door. Sitting down at his computer, he pulled up their instant message system and requested a meeting with Trexler. Jonah expected his supervisor to ignore him, so he was surprised when a reply came through almost right away.
It will have to wait until the morning, Trexler replied. He imagined his boss’s gruff voice when he read the words.
Jonah didn’t want to delay the investigation another day, but his hands were tied. Plus, it gave him more time to come up with an argument even Trexler couldn’t refute. His supervisor might insist someone with more field experience review the details. Trexler might even investigate the situation himself to earn extra brownie points with Malcolm. Jonah wouldn’t like either of those outcomes, but he could live with it if someone pursued the case seriously.
Avery entered his office carrying Jonah’s coffee mug and had Jonah’s peace offering tucked inside his shirt pocket. “Permission to approach your desk?” Avery asked. Jonah was pleased to see the teasing light in his eyes.
“I don’t know. How hot is the coffee?” Jonah asked, quirking a brow.
“Very. I just made it for you,” Avery said.
Jonah scooted back from his desk, giving Avery a wide berth and nodded. “It smells delicious.”
“I found these salted caramel coffee pods at the store last night, and they reminded me of you.” Knowing Avery thought about him at random times did funny things to his stomach and delicious things even lower. “I hid them in my desk so no one else would drink them.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“I can be exceptionally nice sometimes.” Avery set the mug on Jonah’s desk.
The temperature rose inside the office, and the temporary peace Jonah had felt evaporated in Avery’s warmth. The glint in his intern’s eyes said dance for me, moth. Oh, how he danced.
“When you’re not dousing me in hot coffee,” Jonah quipped. “Speaking of, I know I’ve said this several times, but it bears repeating. I—”
Avery waved a hand and cut him off. “I know. I know. This isn’t the fifties and making coffee or retrieving your lunch isn’t part of my duties.”
“Unless it’s an excuse to get out of a lousy lunch date, then by all means.” Jonah wanted Avery to tell him it had been a miserable experience and that he was never seeing the man again, but he didn’t.
Avery laughed as he sat down across from Jonah. He tore open his candy bar and hummed happily as he chewed the first bite. “Thank you for the Reese’s. I needed something sweet to counterbalance all the salty stuff I consumed at lunchtime.”
Jonah nearly choked on his coffee. A dozen remarks came to mind, but he left them all unspoken because it would’ve been impossible to hide the innuendo or his jealousy. He didn’t want to think about Avery’s swollen lips, let alone talk about the activities leading up to the condition.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Jonah groused. “Let’s get to coding.”
“I don’t get you, Jonah St. John.”
That makes two of us.
“I ordered enough food for ten people,” Kendall said as he unpacked the delivery bags from their favorite Chinese restaurant a few hours later. “You could invite your podcast friends over. I can change and put on something nicer.” Kendall gestured to the shortest pair of pale blue shorts Jonah had ever seen. They clung to his roommate’s ass like a second skin.
“For future reference, neither Felix nor Rocky would be upset if you wore those shorty shorts around them. It might make it harder for the fellas to concentrate though.”
“Good to know,” Kendall said with a wink.
“If it
’s okay with you, I prefer a quiet night at home with just the two of us.”
Kendall’s head snapped up, and his perceptive gaze raked over Jonah’s face. “What happened?”
Where did he start? His conversation with Marla the previous evening? Or the disastrous way his week had started with meetings from hell followed by the impending discussion with Trexler in the morning?
Jonah pulled a soda out of the refrigerator for himself and a bottle of strawberry-kiwi water for Kendall. He set them on the counter and met Kendall’s curious gaze.
“Oh, honey. That bad?” he asked.
“I haven’t said anything,” Jonah replied.
“You didn’t have to. I can see the storm brewing in your eyes and feel the tension rolling off you in waves. I know what you need,” Kendall said. “I’ll fix you right up.”
Kendall put the beverages back in the refrigerator and removed the brand-new bottle of bourbon and two tumblers from the cabinet beside it. “On the rocks or straight up?” he asked, setting the booze and glasses on the counter.
Jonah smiled. “I’ll take the first one straight up and add ice later to pace myself.”
“Same,” Kendall said, pouring a generous amount in both glasses. He picked up one drink and gave the other to Jonah. “I propose a toast.”
Jonah didn’t feel like he had a single thing to celebrate but kept his mouth shut as he held his glass in the air.
“To our fabulousness and the dumb fucks who don’t deserve us,” Kendall said. Uh-oh. Before he could ask questions, Kendall clicked his glass against Jonah’s and said, “Cheers.” Then he knocked back half the drink like a rum-guzzling pirate.
“Cheers,” Jonah repeated, but unlike Kendall, he sipped the fine liquor. “God, that goes down so smoothly.”
“That’s what he said,” Kendall teased, winking playfully at Jonah. When he followed it with a giggle-snort, Jonah knew Kendall was already feeling the alcohol. Lightweight. “I need ice.”
“Yes, you do,” Jonah said, taking the glass from Kendall and adding ice to his drink for him.
Ride the Lightning : Sinister in Savannah Book 1 Page 5