by RJ Blain
I hated whining, but I couldn’t make myself stop.
Jake reached over and dug his knuckles into the top of my head. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure we can find a charger somewhere.”
The man in the doorway cleared his throat. “Agent Johnson?”
Since I lacked pockets to stash my phone, I tossed it onto the bed beside Jake. “Yes?”
I’d get around to looking up eventually. Something about being stuck in a hospital while waiting for the ax to fall and chop off my head brought the worst out in me. I heard a sigh of frustration.
“Please forgive her. She fell on a corpse today and performed a very close examination of the remains.”
Jake really was an asshole.
“I… see.”
“It was only a couple of days old.”
I chewed on my lower lip so I wouldn’t giggle. Maybe Jake was an asshole, but he was a funny asshole. Whoever was at the door was either someone Jake knew and thought could handle the disgusting mental image, or it was someone he knew, abhorred, and hoped to give nightmares.
Jake usually gave his victims a chance to introduce themselves before revealing just how much of an asshole he could be.
My partner knew me too well. Maybe my coping mechanism of indulging in morbid humor wasn’t politically correct, but it beat crying. Time and distance gave me the chance to twist the horrific into something a little easier to swallow.
I made a show of taking deep breaths, although I used the exercise to stop myself from laughing. Lifting my chin, I stared in the direction of the door.
The suit didn’t surprise me, but the man’s close resemblance to Jake did. I blinked, turned my head to stare at my partner, blinked again, and returned to inspecting the intruder from head to toe.
If it weren’t for the fact I knew Jake so well, I might have mistaken them for twins. I talked more about my family than Jake did, although I knew his parents were still alive somewhere.
The man’s age puzzled me; his features, skin tone, and lack of wrinkles spoke of youth, placing him firmly in his early thirties at most, but there was something about his dark eyes that made him feel so much older to me.
“Jake, he stole your face,” I observed.
“He’s a face-thieving bastard like that.”
My suspicions were immediately stirred by Jake’s answer, and I narrowed the playing field to an older brother or his father.
“Now who has it backwards?” the man demanded, confirming my suspicions. If the man wasn’t Jake’s father, I’d be shocked.
Jake had been right about one thing: when an opportunity presented itself, taking advantage of it was wise. “Ah, yes. You and your daddy issues. Should I leave you two alone for a few minutes so you can hug and kiss while maintaining your illusion of masculinity?”
The twin huffs of annoyance broke me, and laughter bubbled out of my throat, spilled from my mouth, and refused to be contained. Doubling over, I waved my hands in front of my face in a futile effort to take back control of my nerves.
“You may as well come in and sit. We might be a while waiting for her to regain her composure. Close the door behind you. Should I be worried they sent you?”
“Nothing to worry about, kiddo. I drew the short straw because they assumed I could cut through your bullshit. I told them they were setting the bar for their expectations far too high, but they seemed confident in my abilities to get answers out of you.”
“Kiddo?” I choked out.
“I would like to establish we had a waiver, so the fact we may have washed away evidence can’t be held against us,” Jake announced.
“I know.”
“There’s two of you, Jake.” My attempts to swallow my laughter resulted in snorted giggles. “S-sweet, sweet baby Jesus, there’s two of you.”
Jake’s father frowned. “Should I be concerned?”
Jake reached over and knocked his knuckles against the top of my head. “No, she’ll be fine. We’re down to the laugh or cry stage. Give her ten minutes. She’ll be able to answer your questions like an adult once she’s worked it out of her system.”
“Very well. So, are we going to play games or can we get straight to business?”
“Karma, do you want to toy with him or make this quick and painless?”
I took a deep breath, fought my giggles, and exhaled when my lungs burned. “Why are you asking me that? You’re the instigator, not me. I only instigate when people imply I’m a suspect.”
“Good to know,” Jake’s father said.
“So, who are you?”
“Sebastian Thomas, Agent Johnson.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thomas.”
“Same.”
If Jake’s father wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information, I was prepared to ask questions of my own. “So, who are you, and why are you asking us questions?”
“You already know who I am.”
“I know your name, but that doesn’t tell me who you are. It doesn’t tell me whether or not you actually have the authority to ask me questions.” I smiled my sweetest smile. After four years of Jake, I figured I’d handle my partner’s father the same way. Either I’d infuriate the man into giving me a straight answer or frustrate him into leaving.
I had no problem with either result.
“I see you play by the book, Agent Johnson.”
“It has its benefits.”
“Unless she’s—”
“I won’t hesitate long before punching you in the kidney, Jake. Milliseconds if that.”
My partner shut his mouth with a clack of teeth.
“I’m the Deputy Chief of Staff in charge of CARD.” Sebastian Thomas dug into his pocket, pulled out his badge and identification, and offered them to me.
Taking them, I looked over his details, narrowing my eyes at his age. “This says you’re sixty-two.”
“I aged well, like a fine wine.”
“Did they dunk you in formaldehyde and let you preserve for a few years when you were in your thirties?”
“Something like that. Did you come out here after elementary school closed for the day? Perhaps I should call the school and inform them you’re guilty of truancy.”
I handed Jake’s father his identification and badge. “Are you the reason I almost had a heart attack when I saw Agent Thomas behind me yesterday?”
“I may have signed the final approval for Agent Thomas’s transfer into CARD. Considering the circumstances, it seemed like a good usage of available personnel.”
Jake sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I should have known.”
“We notice when certain partnerships bear excellent results. Considering the abysmal performance of a certain CARD team, I may have delivered a file to someone’s office in New York—in person.” While Sebastian Thomas was smiling, there was nothing friendly about his expression.
“I changed my mind, Jake. Your father is terrifying. When he smiles, I feel like he’s a great white shark and dinner is about to be served. Unfortunately, I’m the dinner.”
“Yeah. You figured that out quick.”
“Gut instinct. Didn’t even have to think about it for long this time. What floor are we on again?”
“Fourth.”
“That’s too high to jump, isn’t it?”
“Would you even get within two feet of the window in the first place?”
“That shouldn’t be relevant to this discussion.”
Jake laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else.”
“If you two are finished, could we begin?”
“Of course, sir,” I replied, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the empty bed. If I indulged in the temptation to lie down, I’d probably be out like a light within ten seconds of my head hitting the pillow. Would a loss of consciousness get me out of another questioning session? If the father was anything like the son, it wouldn’t work.
If the father was anything like the son, I was about to step into the darkest depths of h
ell.
After the third hour of being questioned, I lost track of time. There were a few minutes of respite when Jake’s father ordered someone in the hall to hunt down a pair of chargers for our phones. In addition to the cables, two bags with clothing were brought in.
One day I would have to find out who was in charge of providing clothing to female agents and educate them about the impractical nature of skirts. The fact Jake was forced into another suit almost made it worth while. Almost.
Over and over, I repeated the same answers to the same questions. I’d probably end up mumbling the answers in my sleep. I couldn’t even force myself to complain.
Sebastian Thomas was doing his job.
The devil was in the details, and he grilled his son with the same intensity I suffered through, which made it tolerable. If Jake wasn’t going to whine about it, neither was I.
Mercy came sometime after I began punctuating every other word with a yawn. I was aware of Jake and his father staring at me.
“What?” I asked through a yawn.
“I think we’re done here. Gather your things, and don’t forget your phones,” Jake’s father ordered, heading to the door. He leaned against the doorframe, watched us both, and waited.
“Jake, we shouldn’t let him take us to a secondary location. That’s his plan,” I whispered.
Bursting into laughter, Jake shook his head, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged into it. “He’s many things, but my father isn’t a serial killer, Karma. You’re safe. Look, I survived my entire childhood with him—somehow. You’ll be fine.”
A phone rang, and I was so tired I checked mine before I realized it was coming from the doorway. Jake’s father answered, stepped out into the hallway, and turned his back to us.
“Not buying what you’re selling. Let’s go. Out the window. Quick.”
“Fourth floor,” he reminded me.
“Stop using your shitty logic on me, Jake Thomas.”
“You are so tired.”
“If he asks me one more question…”
Jake’s father stuck his head into the room. “Tacos okay with you two?”
Before I could launch myself across the room and show Jake’s father I still knew a lot of kickboxing moves despite being rusty, Jake placed his hand on top of my head. “Tacos are fine. Anything but pepperoni pizza.”
Snorting a laugh, Sebastian Thomas shook his head and disappeared into the hallway.
“He’d kick your ass, Karma. Once he was done kicking your ass, you’d still end up having tacos for dinner, because the man simply doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no.” Jake leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Whatever you do, don’t mention anything about this morning.”
I flushed. If I had my way, the only people who knew about this morning would be me, Jake, and everyone at the courthouse in Ohio. Playing along, I placed my hands on my hips. “So you’re saying he’s the one who taught you to be such an asshole?”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“Why did he ask us about tacos, anyway?”
“Because we need to eat dinner?”
“Wait, what?”
“Just nod, smile, and accept you’re about to have dinner with my father, Karma. At least he probably had one of his minions deal with our discharge papers so we wouldn’t have to. There’s that, right? Tacos instead of discharge papers. Look at the bright side.”
The first signs of panic manifested as dryness in my throat and a trembling feeling that inched its way down my spine to my toes. I hissed at him, “What about Ohio, Jake? What about Ohio?”
His breath tickled my ear. “Best moment of my life happened in Ohio. Don’t you go maligning Ohio on me. Crying won’t save either one of us, Karma, so you may as well accept your fate. Remember: you are a dignified and professional FBI agent. You’ll be fine.”
Jake’s father cleared his throat from the hallway. “Are you two coming?”
“Yes, sir,” Jake replied, placing his hands on my shoulders and propelling me out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jake’s father snatched the keys to the Corvette out of my hand. For a long moment, I stared at my keys, the fact they were no longer in my possession filtering in through the exhausted haze clouding my thoughts.
Handing over the Corvette’s keys had been part of my original plan, but having the choice taken away from me snapped my fraying patience. I slipped my feet out of my heels, hopped to the asphalt, and spun. Smashing my foot into Sebastian Thomas’s hand, I sent my keys arcing into the air to land somewhere in the parking lot twenty or thirty feet away. Metal clattered, and I hopped out of range, my breaths coming fast and hard as I shifted my weight side to side.
Jake’s father stared at his hand, blinking at the absence of my keys.
“I’ll just go hunt those down,” Jake muttered, shaking his head. Far too fast for my liking, Jake disarmed me and got out of my kicking range. “There. While the parking lot of a hospital is the ideal place to critically injure someone without killing them, it’s still a crime. Unfortunately, he’s your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, which means he’s your boss.”
“He took my keys.”
“I know.”
“My keys, Jake.”
“I know.”
I stalked Jake as he crossed the parking lot to hunt for my keys. After ten minutes, he found them beneath a van. He handed them to me. “Here.”
“I’m too tired to drive,” I admitted.
“Trust me, we all know it. That’s why he took the keys. I’m not driving, either.”
Following after Jake, I fumbled with the ring attaching the car keys to my house keys. The metal resisted my attempts, and I clacked my teeth together from frustration. Jake’s father’s gaze followed my every movement.
I finally gave up and held my keys out to Jake. “Fix it.”
Sighing, he separated the Corvette keys before giving the rest back to me. “What have we learned here?”
Jake’s father frowned. “We’re really going to do this?”
“I value my life. Do you?”
“All right. Next time, don’t touch the woman’s car keys.”
“That’s part of it. Ask Karma for her keys next time. She’s actually a reasonable woman who does recognize when she’s too tired to drive.” Jake handed over the Corvette’s keys. “Someone is going to need to give the whole thing a cleaning.”
“I’ll take care of it. Now that you have managed to delay us, can we go before your mother gets upset we’re late?”
Jake froze. “Wait. You said tacos. You did not say tacos with Mom.”
“Did I forget to mention that?”
“Dad, Mom’s in Washington.”
“I would hope so; that’s where I left her yesterday.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“We’re in New York.”
“I’m aware.”
Jake groaned. “You’re dragging us to Washington?”
“You said it yourself, son. I’m your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, which means I’m your boss. Get in the car, you little shit.”
I looked Jake over. “Little?”
“Damnit,” Jake grumbled, walking to the pale SUV his father directed us to.
“Take the front seat, Agent Johnson.”
Some arguments weren’t worth having, so I climbed in and buckled up. “Yes, sir.”
“I will be back in five minutes. Don’t touch anything.” Jake’s father glared at us before heading back to the hospital doors to talk with someone wearing an FBI jacket.
Jake reached between the seats and tapped my shoulder. “I will make this up to you.”
“I’m not talking to you right now,” I informed him. “Think he’ll fire me before he has me arrested for assault?”
“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
“I’m evaluating the pros and cons of making a run for it.”
“Don’t bother, Karma. He’d just have fun chasing
you down and forcing you back into the car. Trust me, I know. Dad’s not the type to file assault charges, anyway, not when he provoked a tired, cranky woman. He knows he fucked up. He might not apologize for it, but he won’t try to steal your keys again.”
I groaned and slumped in the seat. “I should have just crawled on the bed and passed out. They would have kept me for observation. What was I thinking?”
“You weren’t.”
Two hours after leaving the hospital, we arrived in Albany, where we caught the last flight to BWI. We were ten minutes late, but ‘mechanical problems’ delayed takeoff long enough for us to blitz through security and board.
When they took my gun, I began plotting how to get away with murder. Jake wisely said nothing.
Security let him keep his.
To add insult to injury, I ended up crammed between Jake and his father, a move they must have somehow planned to prevent me from trying to escape their unwanted company. Neither man spoke, probably aware I wanted to kill them both and hadn’t yet decided which one was going to die first.
When we touched down and made our way to the terminal, my weapon wasn’t returned to me. I halted, clasped my hands behind my back, and waited.
Jake noticed I had stopped first, turning to face me, his expression puzzled. “Karma?”
It took all my will to keep my voice pleasant when I replied, “Did they change the pickup location for law enforcement’s checked firearms?”
Jake closed his eyes and adopted my habit of controlled breathing. “If you’re not going to tell her, I will.”
Jake’s father shrugged. “Your firearm has been confiscated until you pass your psychiatric evaluation.”
My last straw crumbled away to dust. The rage over having been singled out faded to a cold, bone-deep numbness. It could be days, weeks, or months until the government got around to scheduling me in for an evaluation, especially since it was a decision made by my direct supervisor.
Ian Malone would probably enjoy making me rot, especially when he found out his team was to be dismantled due to poor performance.
I should have had a little confidence in my job’s security because the FBI had gone through the effort to transfer Jake from HRT to CARD, but I knew better. It’d be easy for them to transfer him back.