Edge of Forever (On the Edge Duet Book 2)

by Jacob Chance

  “Okay.”

  Nash walks from the room, closing Sam and me in together. I turn back and look across the table, locking on his jarring blue eyes.

  “How are you doing?” he asks.

  His question throws me. I’m not expecting pleasantries from him.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Basically, we need to know when you plan on coming back to work. You have plenty of accumulated time if you need a longer break.”

  I shake my head. “No. I plan on coming back tomorrow.” If I’m out of the office I’ll sit at home with no distractions. Belfast is dead. And I need to keep my mind occupied.

  “Are you sure you're ready?” Sam questions, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s genuine concern lacing his tone.

  “When is anyone ready after something traumatic happens to them? How long does it take to recover from being kidnapped at gunpoint?” God, I hate having to lie about Belfast.

  “There’s no set amount of time, Georgia. We want you to do whatever is best for you. If that means you need to stay away from this place for a while or if you’d like to speak to a counselor, we can arrange that for you.”

  “I’m returning tomorrow morning,” I state firmly, leaving no room for arguing.

  He slides some papers and a pen across the table to me. “Can you please sign where I’ve noted?”

  I grab his pen, still warm from his large hand, and sign my name in the appropriate places before pushing everything back his way.

  “Is that all you need?” I ask, eager to leave this room and Agent Beck’s company. He’s being unusually nice, and I’m questioning his motives.

  Is he genuinely sorry for what I went through?

  Or is he buttering me up because he’s the person behind the explosion and everything that’s happened since?

  I won’t be getting any answers today, so the best thing to do is leave as soon as possible.

  “No.” He glances at the silver watch on his wrist. “You have an appointment with Dr. Morrisey in five minutes.”

  “Dr. Morrisey, the psychiatrist?” I know this is standard procedure in cases like mine, but this sucks.

  He nods. “Yes. If you want to return to work, you need to be evaluated first.” He stands and pushes his chair under the table while I do the same. We meet up in front of the door, and he frowns when he sees the scowl marring my face. He wraps his fingers around my upper arm, giving a gentle squeeze before his hand falls to his side. “I know this isn’t something you want to go through today, but you know as well as I do that it’s just policy.”

  My scowl lessens at his conciliatory words. “I do.” I swipe a hand over my forehead. “I just wasn’t prepared to talk to Dr. Morrisey today.”

  “If you change your mind about coming in tomorrow just give me a call.”

  “Thanks, Agent Beck, but even the thought of talking to a head shrinker isn’t enough to change my mind. I won’t be calling.”

  “When are you going to call me Sam?”

  “When you feel more like Sam to me and less like Agent Beck.” I don’t pull any punches with my reply. Things were rocky with us when we met a week ago. Jesus. Has it only been a week?

  It seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since. Belfast was alive then, and now he’s not. I don’t know how I’ll ever reconcile that as fact.

  “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. That was partly my fault.”

  “Partly?” I scoff, and wait for him to get angry. But he surprises me by letting out a deep chuckle.

  “I’ll take ownership of our shitty start if you agree to give me another chance.”

  I press my lips together and angle my head as I study him for signs of insincerity. His solemn blue stare never wavers as he waits for my reply. His offer seems genuine, and I know that getting to know Sam better is an essential part of finding out who wanted us dead.

  I force my lips to hint at a smile. “Okay, Sam. But don’t be an asshole again. This isn’t baseball, one more strike and we’re fine. I don’t give third chances.”

  He grins wide, showing off his straight, white smile. “Noted.”

  Chapter Three

  Georgia

  “How are you feeling with everything that transpired this past week?” Dr. Morrisey inquires, her pen poised over the legal pad of paper.

  “I’m trying to figure that out myself. Maybe I’m a little numb still?” I may not be able to give her the details of what happened, but I can be honest about some things. And I am somewhat numb. I’ve been struggling to believe Belfast is dead, even though there was proof that he is. I’m sure it’s denial, but it’s a real state of mind that I’m currently experiencing.

  “That’s certainly understandable. What you went through was traumatic.”

  Lady, you have no idea.

  Over the course of the next twenty minutes, Dr. Morrisey continues asking me questions. She’s read the official report that Nash wrote up, and I’m sure she’s been briefed on my version of what went down.

  “What do you plan to do to make sure you’re in a good head space?” she asks.

  “I think the best thing for me would be to return to work tomorrow. I love my job, and focusing on that would be a giant step back to normalcy.”

  She studies me, her expression pensive, and I barely resist squirming in my seat. Can she tell I’ve been omitting information throughout our entire session?

  “I’ll sign off on your partial return to work if you’ll agree to meet with me again next week and possibly once more after.”

  I nod eagerly, resembling a bobble head doll. “I can do that.”

  “You’re a lifesaver meeting me last minute like this,” I say before sipping on my margarita.

  Shannon smiles. “Are you kidding? You’re so busy lately, I’m just glad I’m looking at your face in person and not over FaceTime on my phone.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” I sigh.

  “And it’s not like you’re going to tell me,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.

  “Believe me, I wish I could give you all the details. I really need someone to talk to. Why can’t I work a normal job?”

  “What about one of your coworkers? Can they help you?”

  I tic my head from side to side, and then wrap my lips around the straw for a long, deep pull of the tart beverage.

  “I know you can’t give me real details, but maybe you can be vague and I can help. I know you pretty well.”

  Shannon and I met when I first moved to Boston. We were neighbors and became fast friends. She knows who I work for, but we never discuss any details. And I’m careful, never mentioning any specifics or my fellow agents by name.

  “Okay.” How can I say what’s wrong without saying what’s actually wrong? “I worked on a case last year, and we got some outside help from this guy. He’s a professional criminal, but he’s charming as a mofo.” Shannon sits still, waiting for me to reveal more. “There was definite chemistry between us, but obviously nothing could come of it. We hadn’t seen each other since then, until last week.” I pause to suck down another mouthful. Thinking about Belfast hurts so much. There’s a dull ache in my chest that never wanes. Maybe the alcohol will give me some momentary relief. I take in another mouthful, swallowing it down.

  “And?” Shannon prods, growing impatient.

  “The chemistry was still there. We had to spend most of the week together, and we crossed some lines we shouldn’t have.”

  Leaning forward, Shannon tosses her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “Tell me more. What lines?”

  I trail a fingertip through the condensation on my glass. “Is it possible to fall in love with someone in less than a week?” My eyes sweep upward to take in her stunned expression.

  She places a hand on her chest. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that from you. I thought you meant sex. Give me a few seconds to get myself together.” She knocks back half of her gin and tonic in one gulp. “Okay, much better. My answe
r to your question is, yes, absolutely. Why does there have to be a set amount of time for feelings to be real? And who says love needs time to develop? Why can't it be instant? Every couple is unique and has their own level of chemistry.”

  Our chemistry is… was explosive. I’ve never had such a connection from the start with anyone else.

  “Will I get to meet him?” Shannon questions, interrupting my thoughts of Belfast.

  I shake my head. “I wish you could.”

  “Why can’t I? You can give him a nickname, so I won’t know who he really is.”

  I drag in a choppy breath. “He’s dead.”

  Shannon gasps. “Oh my God, Georgia.” She reaches across the table, placing her hand on my arm. “What happened?”

  “He was killed a few days ago.”

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  I shrug. “What’s okay? I thought I was fine before all this happened, but I’m beginning to think that the only time I was truly happy was the short time he and I were together.”

  “Oh, honey. I hate that you’re going through this. I wish there were something I could do to help you.”

  “You are helping. Believe it or not, just being able to tell you as much as I did makes it better. I’m mourning someone whom everyone else thinks of as a crook, but to me he’s the love of my life.” My eyes well with tears and I catch them on my lower lashes with the side of my index finger before they can fall. “It doesn’t seem possible that someone so full of life can be gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully believe it myself.”

  “What are you going to do now? Can you take some time off?”

  “I could, but I’d rather get back to work and keep busy. What good is sitting home being sad going to accomplish?”

  “You have to allow yourself to grieve.”

  Finding the person responsible for everything that’s happened will be my own version of grieving. Once I avenge Belfast and Karyn, then I can take some time off to process all of this. But right now is the time for action, not sitting at home twiddling my thumbs while the bad guy gloats over his win. And like most cases, the more time that passes, the less chance there is of getting the answers needed to solve it.

  “I’m grieving in my own way. It might not be conventional but neither was our relationship. There are no services for me to attend. I don’t even know where his body is.” I throw my hands up in frustration.

  “Is there a counselor at work you can talk to?” she asks.

  “I already spoke to one today, but it’s not like I could reveal the details of what went on between him and me.”

  “What if you seek counseling somewhere else—someplace unrelated to your work? There’s doctor/patient confidentiality, so you’d be able to discuss all the things you can’t at work.”

  “Yeah, that’s a possibility, if I need to. But honestly, the best thing for me will be time.” And seeing justice met. I’m going to find whoever’s responsible, and I’m going to make sure they pay.

  I’m going to let my need for vengeance be the driving force for me when I’m working. And when I’m in the privacy of my own home I can succumb to the overwhelming sadness I have to hide when I’m at work. It’s not going to be pleasant or easy, but I’m playing the long game and I’ll never give up. I owe it to Belfast and Karyn. I’ll honor them both the only way I know how. Their deaths won’t be in vain, and I’ll never forget them.

  “Enough about me. Tell me how your work is going.”

  “Oh, we don’t need to talk about that.” She raises her glass upward, drinking from the straw.

  “Yes, we do. I’m always fascinated by your stories from the courthouse,” I encourage. “I would hardly call being a kickass female prosecutor for Suffolk County boring.”

  “That’s because you’re not living it. At least once a day I question my career choice.”

  “I do that too. After the week I’ve had, I’m definitely in that stage and not leaving it any time soon.”

  “Maybe this is what adulting is about. Maybe we’re not supposed to be one hundred percent satisfied because then we’d become complacent.”

  “Maybe. Or it could be the greener grass syndrome.”

  Shannon arches her brow questioningly. “You know, the grass is greener on the other side.”

  “Yeah, that could be it, but I think it has more to do with the fact that working sixty hours a week sucks no matter what you do.”

  “Amen.” I lift my glass and she clinks hers against it before we both drink. “Whatever happened with that attorney you were flirting with?”

  “Paul?”

  “Yeah, that sounds right. Did you guys ever go out?”

  “Nah, not yet. By the time I get home most nights it’s after nine. I don’t have the energy for a relationship.”

  “Sounds familiar.” I’ve uttered almost those exact words on numerous occasions. But it’s funny how love disregards your plans. Love waltzes in when it damn well pleases, usually when you least expect or want. There’s no way to steel yourself or prevent it from happening. Songwriters write about how love will find a way, and it’s the truth. The unlikely love that Belfast and I shared is proof.

  Lying in my bed, my thoughts turn to Belfast for the hundredth time today. I picture his wide smile and my own lips curve upward in response. His smile was contagious—and it still is, even from beyond the grave. He’s immortal in a sense, living on in my memories every single day.

  But when I’m alone late at night, I miss him so much. Even more than I imagined would be possible, and the pain is crushing to deal with. It makes me waffle between happy and angry thoughts. Belfast burrowed so deep inside my heart that he’ll always be there. I place my hand over my chest and feel my heart repeatedly drumming his name.

  And then there are the times when my anger and frustration take over, getting the best of me. In those moments, I wish he were alive so I could throw a brick at his thick, Irish skull for leaving me. I’m not proud of my dark thoughts, but I’d expect nothing less from him if the situation were reversed. He’d be loving me and cursing me in the same breath, but the love always wins out in the end.

  Too bad Belfast and I lost out on our future. Navigating through the complicated maze our differences would’ve caused might have been difficult, but I know that together we could’ve done it. And we’d have been better for it.

  My last thought before I drift off to sleep is… I can’t believe Belfast is gone.

  Chapter Four

  Georgia

  Waiting for the elevator to stop, I sweep a palm over my wavy hair while balancing the tray of coffees in my other hand. Why am I so nervous? This place has felt like home to me since I began working here. But now the positive memories are tainted by the possibility of one or more of these people I’ve trusted with my life being a traitor.

  My stomach gets nauseous every time I think about it, which makes me want to avoid thinking about it all.

  However, I’m not someone who takes the easy way out or avoids problems by pretending they don’t exist. I tried that with Belfast in Cape Hatteras and it didn’t work out too well for us. But I can’t regret those moments we existed in our own bubble because they were the happiest ones I’ve known.

  The sound of the doors parting draws me out of my introspection. Stepping onto the tile floor, I make my way to my desk, exchanging good mornings with a few agents along the way. I’d almost forgotten how many new faces arrived here recently, and it only adds to my sense of isolation.

  I pluck my coffee from the tray, setting it on my desk and turn to Zoe at the desk beside me. With headphones on, she’s engrossed in whatever’s on her computer screen. I grab another cup from the tray and set it on the edge of her desk.

  Her eyes dart to me and she mouths, “Hello and thank you.”

  I give a quick wave, and then head down the hallway. Knocking on the door, I wait for the deep rumble inviting me in before crossing the threshold.

  “Georgia.�
� Sam smiles.

  “Agent Beck. I thought you might like a coffee.” I hand the paper cup off and our fingers brush.

  “Thank you. This is really nice of you.”

  “Think of it as a thank you for driving me home from the airport the other night. I know I was kind of out of it.”

  “You don’t need to thank me at all. It was the least I could do. But I’m still waiting for you to drop the Agent Beck nonsense.”

  “I know. We spoke about this yesterday. You can’t possibly think that anything’s changed since then.” I lift a brow. “Or do you?”

  “I guess I was hoping this coffee was a sign that you were more comfortable with me.”

  “Give it some time, Agent Beck. Forcing things is never a good idea. When it happens, you’ll know you earned it.” I turn, retracing my steps to the doorway.

  “Georgia.” I pause and spin around. “If you find that you’re not ready to be back at work, don’t be a martyr. No one’s going to think less of you if you need some time.”

  I smile with my lips pressed together. Is this new, nice guy behavior all an act because he’s trying to throw me off?

  “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”

  His needle-like focus remains on me and he nods. I hurry down the hallway, eager to return to my desk and get some investigating done.

  “It’s so great having you back at work. I missed you being there,” Zoe says between bites of her salad. We’re having lunch at our favorite deli about a block from the FBI building.

  “Thanks. I’m glad to be back. The last week has been crazy. I’m looking forward to things settling down.” I gasp and cover my mouth as a thought crosses my mind. “Did I miss Karyn’s funeral?”

  Zoe nods. “The family held a private service last Thursday morning.”

  “Oh no.” Both my hands cup my mouth and nose as I blink to keep the rising tears at bay. “God, I feel so bad for not being there. I wanted to pay my respects to her daughter.”