Jon's Crazy Head-Boppin' Mystery

by A J Sherwood

  “It’s…not?” Garrett released my hand and flipped his wrist over to look at the black watch strapped to him. “Fortunately. I think you just killed it.”

  Some first impression I made. “Sorry. I’ll replace it.”

  Garrett grinned up at me, blue eyes twinkling. “No, man, it’s my fault too. It’s not like Donovan hasn’t warned me about you and electronics. It’s a cheap watch, no loss. Although really, you’re that wonky with electronics? Even anchored?”

  “Being anchored hasn’t affected that aspect of my life much,” I said with a forlorn sigh. “Unfortunately.”

  “And you’ve had a long day, too,” Alani soothed, already defensively on my side. Why couldn’t this woman actually be my mother? “Come on, come eat before everything gets cold, and tell us about your day. What happened? Why did that man attack you?”

  I answered as best I could, although an impending headache made me a little foggy. Likely due to low blood sugar and dehydration. Heading to the table, I greeted Kanye. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” Kanye returned. Donovan’s father looked very comfortable in his chair and pleased to have a full house. “Sit, Jon, eat.”

  “Gladly.” I continued the story as we all loaded up our plates.

  Donovan’s parents looked outraged and worried on my behalf, but Garrett wore the same weighing look Donovan did when things were about to go pear-shaped. He heard me out, then leaned in, studying me. “Bane. Be honest with me. How often does crap like that happen?”

  “Too often,” Alani grumbled.

  “About once a month?” I winced and shrugged, a sheepish smile on my face. “Not always because of me. Carol catches plenty of bad guys too. We try to keep our office location circumspect, but unfortunately, we have to give our full names, license number, and agency during interviews. That much information tells criminals more or less what they need to know to hunt us down later.”

  Garrett looked as if I’d handed him the last piece of a puzzle. He shared a speaking look with Donovan that relayed volumes, something only people who had been with each other for a long time could manage. I tried very hard not to be jealous of the exchange. “Yeah, man, I see why you called me in. Hopefully your boss likes me.”

  “I’ll toast to that,” Donovan agreed, lifting his beer and clinking it against Garrett’s.

  “I’m not banking on it, though,” Garrett added, after taking a sip of the beer. “I’ve not only got one interview lined up with you guys tomorrow, but another next week.”

  “That’s excellent,” Kayne approved. “Where are you staying?”

  “Well, Donovan said I could crash with him until I found a place. Bane’s also offered his spare bedroom, but I think I’ll stay at the house, give these lovebirds some space.” Garrett shot a teasing wink at me. “I’ve got a few leads on some apartments in my price range. I figure I’ll go look at places while not job hunting.”

  People very carefully did not look at me while he said that. They didn’t need to. Donovan was almost done with the remodel on his grandmother’s house. A few odds and ends, maybe another two months of weekends, and it would be finished. It would make logistical sense for him to move in with me at that point. I knew that. We all knew that.

  Was I emotionally ready for that? No way in hell.

  “I have high hopes that you’ll get hired on,” Donovan said, moving the conversation along. “It’s a great place to work. The people are awesome.”

  Garrett reached for his glass as he said, “I figured they had to be, if they accepted you two so easily. No homophobes there, huh.”

  “No,” I confirmed, glad the conversation had taken this turn. “In fact, I’m not the only gay person in the office. Our IT guy, Michael Sho, is as well.”

  “They’re all super nice and supportive,” Donovan pitched in. “Mom, pass the chicken. Thanks. Garrett, what time is your interview?”

  “Wednesday, first thing in the morning. You two know the boss best. What’s he looking for?”

  I couldn’t tell Jim to hire Garrett—conflict of interest—but I had no problem giving Garrett some tips for the interview. As Donovan and I filled him in, I made a promise to myself that I’d find the right moment to ask just what had happened between these two. I didn’t doubt for a second Donovan was head over heels in love with me, but if there was going to be trouble in paradise, I damn well wanted to know about it now and nip it in the bud.

  2

  “Aren’t you ready to leave yet?” Donovan asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious to get me hustled through the door.

  I stared at my boyfriend with exasperation, shaving cream still covering half my face. Taking the razor away from my throat, I demanded, “Does it look like I’m ready to leave yet? What has you so wired, anyway? Did someone slip something into that power bar of yours I need to know about?”

  “Garrett’s interview is this morning,” he answered, still with one foot out of the bathroom, ready to race for the stairs.

  Ah, right. It was Wednesday. With all the activity yesterday, that detail had escaped me this morning. Deciding I could tease my lover and shave at the same time, I went back to taking the stubble off my cheeks. “I think you suggested him just because you want your friend back in your orbit.”

  “Well, duh. But honestly, Garrett can do this job blindfolded once he gets the lay of the land. And he’ll be a good backup for you.”

  I paused with the razor halfway up my cheek, my blue eyes meeting his golden-brown in the mirror, beyond startled. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A little of his excitement tempered, and he shrugged, not quite meeting my gaze. “One thing the Army hammers into you, no one man should be the lynchpin. Every man’s expendable. I know I’m vital to your sanity, babe, don’t misunderstand me. It’s just, if the chips fall the wrong way, I want to know you have backup aside from me if we need it. Garrett’s saved my ass more times than I can count, and he’s the careful sort of guy you need at your back, in case something happens to me.”

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I regulated my temper carefully because, while I hated what he was saying, I understood intellectually what he meant. He didn’t want to leave me unprotected if something serious went down. He didn’t feel comfortable yet with everyone from Psy, but he knew Garrett, knew how Garrett would respond. To his mind, this was the best of all worlds—he got his friend back but also filled in a void.

  “You hate that idea,” he said, eyes now scrutinizing me.

  I put the razor down on the counter for a minute; I didn’t trust myself with something sharp against my throat just then. “I hate the idea that you assume shit’s going to hit the fan at some point, serious enough to get you hurt. I hate the idea that you’re so resigned to it, you’re already arranging backup for me. I know your history well enough to understand why you’re making these decisions, and I’m not arguing against them, but I do not like the idea of you hurt.”

  He came in, put his arms around my waist, and placed a gentle kiss against my temple. “I’ll avoid it as much as possible, promise,” he whispered huskily against my skin.

  I leaned back into him for a moment, appreciating the solid heat against my back, eyes closed as I sought equilibrium. To myself, I could admit I was more upset he’d decided all this without talking it over with me first, but we were still new enough as a couple that I couldn’t be angry with him about it. We’d been together a whole four months, so we were still getting into the habit of checking with each other. Donovan was older, but he had only bad relationship experience; we were still figuring out how to slot our lives in with each other. As much as part of me wanted to yell at him for this, I understood enough not to do it.

  “Donovan.” Blowing out a breath, I sought for the right words. “I understand, or I think I do, where you’re coming from. But maybe next time, talk to me first?”

  “Did I blindside you?” he asked, going taut.

  “A little bit, yeah.”<
br />
  “Sorry.” He sighed, snuggling into me more, his torso curling around mine. “It’s just, occupational habit, y’know? And I’m really excited to work with him again.”

  “Yeah, I caught that part.” I rolled my eyes. “I do not understand why you’re trying to rush me out the door, though. It’s not like I’m part of the interview process.”

  His head lifted so he could meet my eyes in the mirror. “You’re not?”

  Puzzled, I cocked my head. “Uh, no? Why would you think I am?”

  “Because you sat in on mine?” His eyebrows lifted to make his point.

  Oh. Huh. Okay, in that light, his assumption made sense. “I’ve actually never done that before, babe. I only went to take a peek at you because everyone else was nervous and freaking out. I literally have no memory of even walking into Jim’s office, that’s how automatically I moved. I just knew we had to keep you, so I stepped in.”

  “Ah. Well, I guess no rush, then.” His face fell a little in disappointment as he disentangled himself and stepped back enough so I could continue shaving.

  I took one look at his expression and knew he’d be subtly pouting for the rest of the morning if I didn’t do something. He’d hinged his plans on me giving his friend a five-star review, apparently. Shaking my head, I turned and pointed at his cargo pants pocket. “Call Carol.”

  Puzzled, but growing hopeful, he pulled his phone out of the protective case and called our co-worker, putting it on speaker. It rang three times before she answered. “Hey, Donovan.”

  “Hey, it’s actually me who called.” I pitched my voice a little to carry. It echoed weirdly in the tiled bathroom. “Will you do me a favor? There’s an interview set for this morning for the police consultant position. Can you go take a look at the guy and give Jim your take on him?”

  There was a moment of contemplative silence. “And why would I do that?”

  “To put Donovan out of his misery.” I gave him a wink as I said it and found him beaming at me in return. “The man interviewing for the position is a good friend of his.”

  “So you can’t vouch for him, as it would be favoritism, of sorts.” Carol connected the dots with a trace of sarcasm. “Hence why you’re hustling me out the door this morning.”

  “I know auras aren’t generally your forte, but you can get a general sense of someone, and that’s all Jim really needs to know, right?”

  “Yes, yes. Donovan, you owe me lunch for this.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he assured her brightly.

  “It’s a good thing you’re loveable. Alright, I’ll pick up my pace and get over there. What time’s the interview?”

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “So, in other words, twenty minutes. You couldn’t give me more warning than this?” It was more a grumbled protest than anything, and I could hear her rushing now, trying to get ready.

  “Blame him, not me. Thanks, Carol. Bye!” I nodded for Donovan to hang up.

  He did so and ducked down long enough to kiss me soundly on the forehead. “Thanks.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re loveable.” I echoed Carol’s sentiment exactly as I shooed him out of the bathroom. “And if you want us to be there any time before ten o’clock, you’ll let me finish shaving.”

  He immediately ducked out, calling as he went, “I’ll get you a coffee to go, okay?”

  This man. Really, what could I do with his energy?

  We got to the office at 8:35, later than Donovan wanted, to find the interview already in progress. Carol met us at my office door, lips quirked in a semi-enigmatic expression I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, although her meridian lines sparked with curiosity and satisfaction. An interesting mix, to say the least. She did not look like she’d rushed out of the house—every strand of her chestnut hair was in place, her makeup perfect to accent her large brown eyes.

  She took a long sip of her coffee, baiting Donovan—who was about to explode—before giving me a wink. “He’s fun to tease when he’s like this.”

  “Tell me about it.” I grinned back at her. “I didn’t think anything could get him wound up. But stop teasing; he’s liable to vibrate right out of his shoes at this rate.”

  “I got a good look at your friend as he came in and sent Jim a quick text,” Carol informed Donovan, still grinning. “He’s got a very nice vibe. Much like you do.”

  Donovan’s pent up breath left him in a whoosh. “And you told Jim that? Thanks, Carol. I definitely owe you lunch.”

  “Why are you so anxious about this anyway?” I demanded. With the way he reacted, I felt like there was part of the story I was missing. “This isn’t just about us, is it?”

  “No, I’m worried about him too,” Donovan admitted, rubbing a hand along the nape of his neck.

  That did and didn’t answer my question. “I know he was laid up for a while and hasn’t worked for the past six months, but he’s out on medical retirement, right?”

  “Well yeah, but…” Seeing Carol wasn’t following, Donovan backtracked and explained succinctly, “Garrett was in the army with me, and he medically retired about eight months ago. Torn ACL.”

  Carol winced. “Poor guy. It didn’t heal?”

  “No, it did, and he got full range of motion back. But a torn ACL is a death sentence with any of the armed forces. They don’t consider you fit to march after that, so he was forcibly retired. And Garrett’s not the type to do well sitting around. He was going stir crazy through rehab and was worried about finding work, like I was before coming here. I want him here for his sake as much as all of yours. He needs to be productive, to have a job that keeps him on his toes, and this place provides that.”

  “And it has the double benefit of giving us someone else trustworthy to rely on when shit hits the fan?” Carol finished, staring up at him thoughtfully. “So it’s a win-win all around. I see. I think Jim was already half sold just because you recommended him, and he’s certainly personable. He gave me a hello as he came in. Although, I have to admit, if I didn’t know he was special forces, I’d never have pinned him as former military.”

  I could easily see why she said that. Donovan had that look of a military man, tall and imposing and alpha in all the best ways. But Garrett Wilson didn’t have that imposing build to him. He was so opposite from Donovan that it was almost comical seeing them side by side.

  From where I stood, I could see through the picture window into Jim’s office. Garrett sat with his back to us, so I couldn’t see much, aside from his head and shoulders—his short, blond hair carefully combed, a khaki sports coat fitting him in a nice line. But that one unobstructed view of him told me quite a bit.

  “How bright is he?” Donovan asked me curiously, no doubt in his tone that his friend shone to my eyes. He’d not asked me that since I’d met Garrett, but the timing hadn’t been right for it, either.

  “Pretty damn bright,” I admitted, not taking my eyes away from Garrett’s back.

  As if he sensed us, Garrett turned in his chair and spotted Donovan, giving him a grin before turning back around and saying something that made Jim laugh. Okay, if they were joking in an interview, it was going very well.

  “He’s always cutting up.” Donovan shook his head, amused more than anything. “It looks like it’s going great. Maybe I was worried about nothing.”

  “Looks like it.” Carol sipped at her coffee again before telling him smoothly, “I want sushi for lunch.”

  “You email me what you want, I’ll order it for you,” Donovan promised, unbothered by this.

  Patting his arm, she moved past and sauntered toward her office.

  Since we had work of our own to attend to, I went into mine and reviewed where we stood: a few interviews lined up for later this morning and afternoon, an intake in my chair from Marcy that looked semi-repugnant (it had better not be another cheating case), and a few invoices to look over and sign. I tackled the invoices first; Sharon had opinions about unsigned invoices that lingered too lon
g on people’s desks. The last time I’d let more than five stack up in my inbox, she had many words to say about it—none of them clean. Donovan handled the emailed requests for my services, while I tackled the invoices.

  It was another fifteen minutes before two shadows darkened my door, and I looked up. Garrett and Jim stood just inside, smiles on both of their faces. Garrett practically sparked with anticipation and happiness, so I knew without asking what Jim’s decision had been.

  “Yes?” Donovan asked hopefully, swiveling in his chair and leaning forward, ready to bound out of it.

  “No getting rid of me now, Havili,” Garrett informed him smugly.

  Punching the air in victory, Donovan took one giant stride forward, caught his friend up with both hands, and hugged him tight for a second before bouncing back. “Yes! Thanks, Jim.”

  “I had your recommendation and Carol urging me to hire him; I’d be an idiot to turn the man away,” Jim said reasonably. “Besides, I think he’ll work out well. Although, I’m curious why you didn’t say something, Jon.”

  “Conflict of interest,” I explained, coming around my desk to offer congratulations as well. “Donovan really wanted him here. Welcome to Psy, Garrett.”

  “Thanks, man. I’m really excited to be here.”

  I warned him seriously, “Before you do anything else, go see Sho. He’s our IT expert here, and he can give you the EMP protectors you’ll need if you’re going to be around me.”

  For some reason, this amused him vastly, judging from that wide grin on his face. “I’ve heard of having an electric personality, but you take it to a whole new level, Bane. I have a feeling it’ll be fun working with you. To watch like a fly on the wall, if nothing else.”

  “There’s that,” I agreed sourly. At least he had a sense of humor about stuff like this.

  “Tyson’s out on a different case,” Jim informed Donovan and me, “so I hope to stick him with the two of you and have you show him the ropes for a while until Tyson can get back and finish training him. You’re okay with that, I assume.”