Jordan nodded, hating to see the lines that were cutting across Barrett’s forehead—lines that had not been there until recently. “You’ll figure it out.” She didn’t like false praise and empty reassurances, but she really meant what she’d said. She had no doubt that Barrett would eventually figure out where the problem was. If it was with him, he would fix it, and if it was something from outside, he’d put an end to it.
“Thanks,” Barrett said, starting for the door. “Listen—I’ll look up that protocol for you, okay? I know transposed thought cases are delicate. Just try not to interact with him at all until I can read up on how we keep our thoughts from him.”
Jordan nodded again, lifting her hand in a wave. “Okay, thanks. Chin up.”
He gave her a wink and headed out the door, leaving Jordan alone in her office. She leaned back in her chair and thought about Wes again, feeling bad that she had rushed him out so quickly. It was likely that he had found her bedside manner, so to speak, even more lacking than it usually was. She had spent no time seeing how he was coping with the fact that he was suddenly hearing people’s thoughts, worried that the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that he would start to hear her thoughts.
Jordan looked outside again, noting that it was still a beautiful day. She sighed, knowing that sneaking away for a night in New Orleans was no longer an option. She needed to be available in case whatever she had to do to protect her thoughts from Wes’s hearing required some elaborate process. Besides, it had been an impulsive instinct, and the impulse was now in the past.
But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t find a good spot in Baton Rouge to park herself for a little while. It seemed like a good night to have a few drinks, relax, and see what happened.
Chapter 6
Wes
The bar he chose was busier than he thought it would be when he’d driven by it. The inside was much larger than anyone could tell from the outside, and there was an after-seven o’clock, two-for-one drinks special advertised as soon as he walked in the door. It wasn’t quite the quiet spot that he’d been looking for, but it would do. There was even a small dance floor towards the back, and despite the fact that it was only 7:30, it was already full of people who were letting their hair down on a Wednesday night.
Wes took a seat at the bar and nodded back to the bartender who greeted him with a wave. “What can I get you?” the man asked.
“Whatever is best on tap,” Wes said. He glanced to his left and saw an older man sitting there, clearly well into his drink for the evening. To his right there was a group of friends, both male and female, who were all chatting and laughing together. It reminded him of hanging out with the guys, and that dampened his mood as Jake’s face appeared in his mind.
He and Jake had been close for so many years. They’d spent many an evening in a spot just like this, drinking away the stress of the day, watching a game or the news, and talking about anything and everything. The fact that his friend had betrayed him so completely was as hard to believe as the fact that he was hearing other people’s thoughts. It had caused him to avoid all of his friends over the past couple of days, working on his own as much as possible and staying away from his phone. He hadn’t felt this isolated since he had first moved to Louisiana in order to follow his dream of living in the South.
The bartender slid him a beer topped with plenty of foam. “Anything to eat?” he asked, lifting his hand to acknowledge a signal from another person across the room.
“Yeah,” Wes said, realizing that he hadn’t eaten in almost eight hours. “Uh, how about the seafood dippers?” He nodded towards the ad that was plastered up against the wall, inviting patrons to order the big basket filled with different kinds of fried seafood and various sauces.
It was hardly the healthiest of meals, but then Wes stayed pretty fit between his workout routine and his job. He could afford the occasional bar-food splurge.
“Yeah, no problem,” the bartender said, calling back the order to the small kitchen staff. “Hold on, okay?”
Wes kept his head down as he waited, enjoying his beer and largely ignoring those around him. He found that if he kept his thoughts focused and didn’t interact much with a crowd, he was less likely to start to hear other’s thoughts. He was so focused on staying to himself that it surprised him when a hand landed on his back, sliding upward toward his shoulder.
“Hey there, handsome.”
Wes looked over his shoulder, surprised, and saw a woman that he knew looked familiar. He floundered for a minute, but then remembered that her name was Bree, and she was Garland’s cousin. They had met several times at different parties, or when they were hanging out at Garland’s house, and he remembered that Bree was fun enough, but not terribly captivating. She was a pretty girl, though, with dark hair and bright, brown eyes and a lean, fit body that she knew how to dress well. Bree was always very stylish, and tonight was no different.
“Bree,” Wes said with a smile, after only a moment of hesitation. “Nice to see you.”
“You, too,” Bree said, squeezing between him and the old man to his left, so that she could lean against the bar. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Wes nodded. “Yeah, it sure has. How have you been?”
“Good—great, actually,” Bree said. “Oh, that looks yummy!”
His seafood dippers arrived in front of him, along with another beer. Wes realized that he had to offer to let Bree join him, and while that hadn’t been his plan or his intention, it also wasn’t the worst prospect either. After all, what else was he going to do while he sat there?
“Have some,” Wes offered, nudging the platter toward her. “I can’t eat this all by myself. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Oh, I can’t eat fried food,” Bree said, scrunching her nose, regretfully. “I mean, I’d love to. But my trainer put it on my never list, and I’m really committed to competing.”
“Competing?”
“Yeah, I do women’s bodybuilding,” Bree said, lifting one arm and flexing it.
Wes’s eyebrows lifted. When she was just standing there, she looked well-toned, but when she flexed, it was clear that she was quite muscular. “Very impressive! How long have you been doing that?”
“Oh, I’m only just getting started,” she said, putting her arm down and shrugging a shoulder. “I’ve been at it for a few months, though. My first competition is in another six, but I have to stick to a strict diet year-round.” She held up her drink, which was a pale green color.
“This is a diet margarita,” she said with a laugh. “I get to have one when I go out—no more than that.”
“You’re very disciplined.”
“Yeah, well, there are other ways to let loose,” Bree said, her hand resting on his arm as she laughed at her own forwardness. “Oh my. I’m drinking so little these days—this margarita must have gone straight to my head. Tell me, Wes—you can’t possibly be here alone.”
He wasn’t sure if he should feel more flattered or wary. “But I am,” he said, keeping his tone light.
“Well come join me and my friends,” Bree said, motioning to his platter and his beer. “Bring those with you. If you really want help eating them, Jo will definitely pitch in.”
“Jo?” Wes asked, looking over in the direction that Bree looked. He saw a table full of people watching them talk, and he lifted a hand in an awkward wave when they motioned him over. “Uh, I don’t know, Bree. I’m kind of doing my own thing and heading home early. You know, I have work in the morning.”
“Oh, come on,” Bree said, picking up his platter and giving him a little smirk. “I’ve got your food. Better come with me.”
She headed off for the table, and Wes contemplated letting his food go with her, but then he decided that it couldn’t hurt to go sit with Bree and her friends for a little while. It didn’t mean he had to have a lot to drink or stay out late. He would put in an hour or so, and then he would go home, go to bed early, and get ready for whatever tomorr
ow was going to hold.
Bree’s friends made room for him as he arrived at the table, sliding in together to make sure that he had a place to sit. Wes sat down, nodding as Bree made her introductions.
“Okay, everyone, this is my friend Wes. Wes, this is Jo, and this is Andrew, and that’s Ethan, Janel, and Wysteria over there. Everyone say hi.”
“Hi, Wes,” Bree’s friends chorused, obediently.
Jo reached for a seafood dipper. “Are these for the table?”
Wes laughed, slightly and nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Help yourself.”
The table chatter continued around him. Bree fell back into conversation with her friends, although her leg brushed against his often enough that he wondered if it was on purpose. He answered a few questions about where he worked and what he liked to do with his time, and half an hour passed pretty quickly. He hadn’t heard any thoughts at all, and he started to relax into his third beer and wonder if somehow, he wasn’t dreaming the whole thing up. Did he really think that he was hearing other people’s thoughts?
Oh shit.
Wes’s whole body froze at the voice that he heard inside his head, and he didn’t dare turn around to look for her.
What the hell is he doing here? Can I really not just have a fun night out with a date without running into him?
Oh good. She was on a date.
Wes felt himself begin to overheat. Whenever he got truly upset or anxious, his whole body felt flushed with adrenaline, and he started to sweat. It was an annoying reaction to stress, but he had always been that way. If he didn’t remove himself from the situation, sweat was going to start rolling down from his temples and his hands were going to get slick.
“Excuse me,” Wes said to Bree, when her hand landed on his leg and squeezed, trying to get him to involve himself in the conversation again. “I’ve got to go. Could you …?” He pulled out his wallet, plucking out several twenties and handing them to her. “That should cover me.”
“What?” Bree asked, frowning at him in confusion. “What are you talking about? You can’t go. Aren’t you having fun?”
“I was,” Wes said, standing up and trying to work his way out from around the table. He knocked into Wysteria’s chair, jostling her, and had to apologize. When he righted himself and turned around, he was face to face with Alana.
“Hello,” Alana said, a smile on her face that did not at all match the thoughts he had heard. “What a surprise, seeing you out and about. How have you been?”
He always was gorgeous. Still is. I suppose we could always have a post-breakup hookup. But he was always so attached …ugh. Might not be worth it.
Wes’s own smile was downright acidic. “Get the hell away from me, Alana.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, clearly shocked by his vitriolic tone.
“I said get the hell away from me, Alana,” he said without hesitation. “If I have to push you out of the way to leave this bar, I’ll do it.”
Oh my God. Since when does he talk to me like that? Where was this when we were dating?
A man stepped out from behind Alana. He was big and beefy, and he looked simultaneously angry and confused. “Hey, you can’t talk to her that way. She’s over here being nice, and you’re gonna be a douche about it?”
“Are you her date?” Wes asked.
“Yeah, what about it?”
Wes smiled tightly. “Just so you know, Alana sleeps around. She really likes to sleep with your closest friends. Especially if they’re named Jake. She has a real thing for guys named Jake.” He turned back toward Alana’s shocked face. “Isn’t that right, Alana?”
Shit, shit, shit, shit. He is not supposed to know about that. I’m going to kill Jake! I was supposed to be the one who walked away from this breakup, as his one that got away. Dammit!
“I’ve never been so glad to be rid of someone,” Wes said, stepping right up to Alana’s face and looking down at her with a sneer. “You were never good enough for me. It just took me too long to figure that out.”
“Wes …” Alana said, grabbing his arm. “Baby. Let’s go somewhere and talk. I can explain. Honestly—this is all a big misunderstanding.
I swear to God, if he had been this forceful when we were dating, I would never have gotten so bored. At least not so quickly. God, he is hot like this.
“You’re disgusting,” Wes said, pushing past Alana. “And just so you know, I never cheated on you—ever. I had opportunities, Alana. Everyone always has opportunities. I took myself out of those situations every single time without any hesitation. Because I was committed to you.” He looked back at Alana’s date, who still seemed both angry and confused in equal measure. “I would run,” he advised him. “She’s beautiful on the outside, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Wes!” Alana called after him, as he turned and stalked away. “Wes, wait!”
A hand grabbed his arm, and he turned to really give it to Alana, but it was Bree, standing there looking up at him with wide eyes. “That was amazing. I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like to really tell someone what I thought of them. And I might never get another chance. So, I just want you to know that I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met. And I’d really like to go out with you. And I would never, ever cheat on you.”
As Wes stood there, stunned, she lifted up on her toes and pressed a hard kiss to his lips, cupping the back of his head in her hand. When she did, her thoughts went tumbling into Wes’ and he stumbled back from her, surprised by the rush of sexual images he’d gotten.
“Bree,” he said, taking her arms in his and pushing her gently back. “You’re very sweet, and very beautiful, and I’m flattered. But not tonight, okay? I can’t think about that tonight.”
Flushing, Bree nodded. “Of course. You must be so emotional.”
He was something like that, anyway. Wes pressed her arms gently and took a step back. “Okay,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “I’m going to go. But I’ll …call you. All right?”
Bree smiled widely. “Okay! I can’t wait.”
“Good,” Wes said, searching for more words to attach to that one. He found none. “I’ll see you later.”
Turning, he hurried out of the bar, pausing out on the small porch and trying to catch his breath. In the span of five minutes, he had seen Alana for the first time since they had broken up, and only days after learning that she had cheated on him any number of times, and then he’d had a woman he only knew casually throw herself at him. The things that he had seen playing out in her mind were enough to make him flush even now, thinking back on it. Wes was no prude, but he hadn’t been thinking of Bree that way, and now he didn’t know what to make of it.
For some reason, Jordan’s face came to mind. She was so different from Bree, and yet far more captivating. Maybe he just liked complicated women. Alana had been complicated in her own way. Jordan would be complicated in a completely different way. When he really thought about it, Jordan was far more beautiful and alluring than either Alana or Bree.
He shook his head. “You don’t need to be entangling yourself with any woman right now.” He started to walk away from the bar. “You need to get your head figured out, in more ways than one. And for God’s sake, don’t go thinking about your private investigator as a beautiful woman. “
Wes headed for his car, his keys in hand, when he realized that he was too tipsy to drive. With a groan, he pulled out his phone, ready to call a car to come pick him up. But as he did so, something caught his eye in the back of the parking lot.
He moved towards it instinctively, but the person, hulking down between cars, took off, running down the street and crossing through a busy line of traffic.
Wes almost turned his back, figuring that there was nothing there to see, when a thought that was not his own drifted through his head.
You can’t keep chickening out! God, you’re so worthless. Just do it. Just kill the damn bitch. You’re running out of time.
Chapter 7
Jordan
Jordan was two glasses into a bottle of rosé and three episodes into her favorite guilty pleasure Television show when her cell phone rang.
She glanced at it, not recognizing the number, and she almost didn’t answer. When she had come home from work to get ready for a night out on the town, she had quickly changed plans, changed into her most comfortable yoga pants, ordered a pizza, poured herself some wine, and delved into a show that she would forever deny watching if anyone ever questioned her on it. Her desire for a night out had lasted about as long as her first glass of wine.
Whoever was calling promised an interruption to her quiet evening.
But something told her to answer it. Jordan sighed, as she reached for her phone. “Hello?”
“Jordan Grey?”
“Speaking.”
“It’s Wes. Wes Moretti. The guy who is not Italian-Jewish.”
Surprised, Jordan sat up off her couch, unfolded her legs from beneath her, and set her wine down on the coffee table. “Wes? How did you get my number?”
“Uh, your card was attached to the paperwork you gave me. I’m sorry to call you so late at night. I wouldn’t have, except …”
“Except what?” Jordan asked, putting him on speaker and pulling her phone away from her ear so she could check the time. It was well after 9:00, and she was definitely not on the clock. “I thought we had an appointment tomorrow, Wes.”
“We do,” he said, “but I was out, and I heard something. I couldn’t not call someone and tell them about it, but if I called the police, I would never be able to explain how I heard what I heard.”
Jordan walked over to the kitchen with her mostly empty glass of wine and set it down on the counter as she grabbed a third slice of Meat Lover’s pizza. “Okay, what did you hear?”
Rockwell Agency: Boxset Page 28