A More Perfect Union

by Carsen Taite

  Rook shook her head, surprised Zoey was able to read her so well. “It’s logical, for sure, but I kind of doubt the management of this particular building cares who does what as long as they have the opportunity to rent out the space.”

  “Good point.”

  Rook grinned. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who needs people to say nice things to fuel your ego.”

  “My ego’s fine, thank you very much, but it’s always nice to get compliments from smart, accomplished women.”

  “Are you always this smooth?” Zoey asked with a skeptical tone.

  “Hardly ever, but don’t tell anyone because I have a reputation to uphold.” She reached for the envelope to turn the conversation back to business. “Don’t go all rules and regulations on me, because I’m taking this with me. It feels like a clue.” As her hand touched Zoey’s again, she let it linger this time. The letter might feel like a lead in their investigation, but the charge she felt whenever Zoey was near was a signal of something else entirely. Something she wanted very much to explore.

  Chapter Twelve

  Later that evening, Rook checked the fridge for the third time, but the beer she’d stowed hadn’t moved. Beer had been her first choice because of how she’d sold the evening as a casual work meeting, but maybe Zoey would prefer something different like a nice Malbec, a Champagne, or whiskey. She picked up the phone to call in a liquor order, but then set it back down again. She had wine and hard liquor on hand, and Zoey sure didn’t seem like the Champagne with burgers type. What she needed to do was figure out why she was so damn jumpy about having Zoey over in the first place. Her mind wandered back over every moment they’d shared earlier in the day, reliving the spark she’d felt at every glance and touch and she had her answer.

  Her phone rang and she grabbed it off the counter, hoping it wasn’t Zoey, calling to cancel. Eric’s number showed up on the display. She answered on the second ring. “Tell me you have some intel.”

  “I’m emailing you a file with all the information I’ve gathered so far, but it isn’t much. I couldn’t find a copy of a lease for Lorraine Darcy Inc. for any space in that building. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just wasn’t in the files where I expected to find it.”

  “I hear you.” Rook was used to listening to the undercurrent of Eric’s reports. He’d likely hacked into the leasing company’s files and seen where they kept their leases, but didn’t find one for Darcy Inc. “Maybe it’s under another name?”

  “Nothing matches that suite number. If the office is rented out, it’s not in the books. Not the official ones anyway. What I sent you is all the information I could find about the leasing agency, the building’s other tenants, and a copy of the building management’s letterhead.”

  “Go ahead and spoil it for me. Is the eviction letter legit?”

  “You have some reason to think it isn’t?”

  She didn’t have a reason, not a good one anyway, but her gut told her something was off. The doorbell rang. “I have to go. Keep digging, and I’ll talk to you later.” She disconnected the call and looked at the clock on the wall, noting Zoey was exactly on time—precisely what she’d expected. Happy she didn’t have to spend any longer contemplating her inadequate hospitality, Rook glanced around the room one last time to make sure she didn’t have any client files lying around.

  She didn’t spend a lot of time in her townhouse, which was a shame because it was actually pretty dreamy. Open and airy with lots of sunlight, it was the perfect place to enjoy a Sunday morning brunch or tea on the terrace. Rook didn’t indulge in either of those things, but she liked knowing she could if she wanted. This place had turned into a stopover between her office and those of her clients, a place to house her clothes and the trappings of wealth she’d accumulated over the years. Her dates were spent at luxurious DC restaurants and overnights were for hotels or her companions’ homes where she could make a quick getaway when the inevitable text, email, or phone call came, summoning her back to her first love, the business she’d created.

  She pulled the door open at the first knock and lost her composure for a moment at the sight of Zoey, framed in the doorway. Like the night they’d gone to Meridian, Zoey was out of uniform, but this time she was dressed a little more formally, in slim black slacks, loafers, and a crisp, cornflower blue shirt, rather than the casual picnic wear she’d had on for the tour of the monuments.

  “You said tonight, right?”

  Zoey’s smile was captivating, and Rook couldn’t help but return it. “Yes.” She swung the door open wider. “Come in.”

  Zoey walked in and her eyes swept the interior. She sucked in a breath, and Rook felt compelled to say, “I know, it’s a little on the big side.”

  “You could say that. I’m terrified to know how much something like this would cost.” Zoey instantly put her hand on her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude. It’s just that I’ve been looking at real estate and this part of town was on my don’t even look at it list.”

  “No worries. I bought it quite a while back so I got a steal.” Rook allowed herself the small lie. Even though she had purchased during a down market, the price had still been exorbitant. Time to change the subject. “So you’re looking to buy?”

  “Leasing for now, but maybe someday.”

  Rook motioned for Zoey to follow her to the kitchen. “If you’d like some tips, I know the entire area pretty well.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but General Sharp’s wife has been an invaluable resource. I found a place in Vienna. I’m still in boxes, but it’s home.” Zoey waved an arm. “Besides…”

  Her voice trailed off, but Rook got the point. “You’re thinking we don’t have the same taste.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s clear you have impeccable taste, just different.”

  “What can I say? I like nice things.” Rook cringed as the defensive tone crept into her voice. She did like nice things, even if she worked so hard she rarely had an opportunity to enjoy them. Her father had sworn she’d never make anything of her choices in life, but her six-bedroom townhouse in Dupont Circle rivaled the Manhattan apartment where she’d grown up.

  Zoey was looking at her, a questioning expression on her face, but when she mentally replayed the story of her rivalry with her father, it didn’t bear telling. She rushed to change the subject. “Speaking of nice things. I promised you burgers and beer. Does that still sound good?”

  “Sure, I’ll take a beer.”

  Rook reached into the fridge and grabbed the growler George had picked up from the new local microbrewery everyone was raving about. She started to tell Zoey about the place and how hard it was to get the stuff before it ran out on any given day, but she had a feeling Zoey would file such a story in the category of things that impressed most people, but didn’t impress her at all. Rook had planned on ordering burgers from another hot, new place in town, but as she poured them each some of the creamy stout, she made a last-minute change of plans. She handed Zoey a glass. “Let me know if this is okay.”

  She watched as Zoey tipped the glass to her lips. She took a small sip at first and her eyes fluttered. A soft moan escaped and she pulled a deeper draught, sighing after she swallowed. “That’s delicious. Best brew I’ve ever had.”

  Rook tore her gaze away from the sensual tableau of Zoey’s desire. “Trust me to order dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Rook pulled up her favorite food delivery app and placed an order, and then invited Zoey to join her in the living room. Zoey glanced between the couch and the two club chairs opposite and chose one of the chairs. Okay, Rook thought, she’s here for business. That’s exactly what she should be here for. All for the best. Rook settled onto the couch and fished for light, pre-dinner conversation. “So, when did you find out you were being reassigned to the Pentagon?”

  “The night of Addison Riley’s birthday party. General S
harp asked me not to say anything until it was official.”

  “Speaking of official, I hear congratulations are in order on your upcoming promotion.” Rook watched Zoey’s eyebrows rise and added, “Senator Armstrong told me the request is sailing through.”

  “She seems like the kind of person that knows a little bit about everything that’s going on in this city.”

  “More than a little bit and more than just this city. Connie Armstrong is a bulldog. Nothing gets past her. She’s a good person, though, and if she’s on your side, there’s no stronger ally.”

  “Good to know.” Zoey swallowed a taste of the beer. “This is really good. I have high expectations now about your choice in burgers.”

  A knock on the door cut off Rook’s reply. She tipped the delivery guy and walked back in holding two bags. “Shakeburgers and fries from Shake Shack. Simple, but tasty.”

  “Winning endorsement.” Zoey grinned and set her beer down. “Tell me where the plates are, and I’ll get us set up.” She pointed. “Kitchen table okay?”

  “Perfect.” Rook set the bags on the counter and started pulling out the burgers and fries. “The city’s full of well-known burger joints, but I’m a big fan of this one.”

  “Me too.”

  “Oh, you’ve been there before?” Rook supposed it was silly to think she was introducing Zoey to something new. “I was hoping I would be your first introduction to the Shack.”

  “You’re a really close second. Margaret Sharp took me to the one at Pentagon City when we were house hunting, and I’ve been jonesing for another burger ever since.”

  “Allow me to feed your addiction.” Rook portioned out the food and helped Zoey carry the plates and their beer glasses to the table. For the next few minutes they dug into the food like hungry wolves, and Rook realized she hadn’t eaten anything since a half a sandwich grabbed during a working lunch, hours ago. A third of the way through her burger, she felt fortified enough to ask Zoey if she was enjoying her food.

  “It might even be better than the first time, which doesn’t bode well for my waistline.”

  Rook let her gaze roam over Zoey’s figure, taking special note of her trim hips and tapered waist. “I think you’re a few hundred burgers shy of an intervention.” She handed her the bag. “And you should eat more of these fries before I finish them off.” Zoey reached into the bag and pulled several fries. Rook watched her sigh with pleasure as they crossed her lips. She needed to change the subject quickly or be in danger of trying to kiss those lips. “So, you’ve known General Sharp and his family for a long time?”

  “Is that more gossip or do you already know the answer?”

  “It’s partly what I hear and partly what I’ve observed.” Rook wasn’t lying. She’d asked Eric to conduct a simple online search for information about Zoey, and Sharp had come up in her past on several occasions. It was clear he’d taken a personal interest in her career, which explained why he elected to reassign her to the Pentagon.

  “He was my first CO—commanding officer.”

  “I know what CO means,” Rook said, letting a slight chiding tone creep into her voice.

  Zoey shrugged. “Some people don’t, and I have a tendency to forget not everyone speaks Army. But I guess it was silly to assume you wouldn’t know the lingo. I mean why else would the White House have hired you for this job if you weren’t familiar with the military?”

  “I think they probably hired me despite my familiarity with the military.” Rook cocked her head. “I’m actually a little surprised Sharp didn’t mention anything to you about my past encounters with the Pentagon.” The look on Zoey’s face told her maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

  “Encounters?”

  “More like run-ins. The brass probably has more colorful words to characterize their interactions with me. Let’s just say I don’t have a lot of fans in your new workplace.” The painful memory of the last time she’d had to interact with the folks at the Pentagon punched her in the gut, and she cast about for a way to keep her composure. She pointed at Zoey’s plate. “Can I get that out of the way for you?” Zoey nodded, and she took both their plates and hurried back to the kitchen, anxious to put some distance between the painful subject and this opportunity to get to know Zoey better. She took her time, scraping the few remains from their dinner into the garbage, taking long, slow breaths to calm her anger and remind herself that Zoey might wear a uniform but that didn’t make her an enemy.

  “Are you okay?”

  Rook dropped a plate in the sink, instantly feeling stupid for being startled at the sound of Zoey’s voice. If anything, her tone was soothing, but Rook couldn’t seem to keep her own from being clipped and stark. “I’m good.”

  “Right.” Zoey brushed close and picked the plate up out of the sink. She didn’t move away, instead she lifted the faucet handle, carefully rinsed the plate, and stacked it in the dishwasher. “You know, if we’re going to work together, it might help for us to clear the air.”

  Zoey’s tone was light, but Rook shied from the portent. If only clearing the air was as simple as she implied. “I think you know it’s a little more complicated than that.” She wagged a finger between them. “It’s no secret I’m attracted to you, right?” Zoey nodded slowly. “I never would have acted on that if I’d known we were going to be working together and I should’ve never acted on it in the first place since I knew from the get-go you’re so gung ho about your job.”

  “I get the working together part and I completely agree, but I don’t get what you have against the Army.”

  “Army, Navy, Marines—you’re all the same. Closing ranks to protect your own. Don’t mistake anything that your Pentagon buddies may have told you. They’re cooperating now because the White House is watching, but if we look away for just a second, they’ll be back to their old tricks.” Rook delivered the proclamation with fire in her voice, and Zoey backed away from her like she was recoiling from a snake. For a second Rook wondered if she’d gone too far, but she couldn’t help adding, “Why in the hell did I agree to take this case?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Zoey fired back. “Why don’t you go back to your more important work and leave the men and women who risk their lives for you to their own devices?”

  “Oh, plenty of you risk your lives, but the danger is closer than you think. You of all people should know you have to watch your back.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “I’m no threat to you, but your kind eat their own on a regular basis. You think your fellow soldiers have your back? You need to think again.”

  Rook felt her cheeks burning, and Zoey was looking at her like she’d lost her mind. This wasn’t at all how she’d planned this evening to go. She’d overstepped, but she didn’t care. In spite of all her combat experience, in the ways of politics, Zoey seemed naïve, and nothing but trouble could come from innocence. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever until Zoey broke the silence.

  “I’m going to leave.”

  Rook looked at the door, just a few steps away. Was it this case or this woman that was causing her to lose her edge? She either needed to figure out what it was fast and solve it or tell Julia she was done. Bottom line, she wasn’t going to figure anything out if Zoey walked out the door.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I feel like you’re playing tug-of-war with me. First I’m in, then I’m out.” Zoey’s eyes reflected hurt. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if I did something to piss you off, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you. You’re right. I never should’ve taken this case.”

  “Because of your deep-seated hatred of all things military?”

  “Because they killed my brother.”

  * * *

  Zoey shot a look at the door. She needed to make a decision now and stick with it, but Rook’s words were weighted with pain, and only a heartless bastard would walk out on her now. Acting purely on impulse, she grabb
ed Rook’s hand and led her to the couch.

  “Where’s your liquor?”

  “I need to stay focused.”

  “You need something to take the edge off.”

  Rook leaned back and listlessly pointed to a cabinet across the room. Zoey opened the doors and surveyed the contents. There wasn’t a whiskey under twenty years old, so she poured a couple of glasses of booze she would’ve had to save for special occasions. She carried the heavy glass tumblers back to the sofa and sank down beside Rook. “Drink up and tell me what’s going on.” At the last minute, she bit back the words “that’s an order,” sensing the phrase might send Rook over the edge.

  While Rook took a sip she did too, savoring the slow, smooth heat of the expensive alcohol and wondering what it was like to have a cabinet full of expensive liquor in an expensive townhouse in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in the capital. Apparently, none of these trappings were enough to mask any troubles one might have.

  She waited as the minutes ticked by. Rook continued to sip slowly from her drink, but she didn’t appear to be inclined to talk. Finally, Zoey took charge. “What was your brother’s name?”

  “Rory.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older.”

  Zoey studied Rook’s face, searching for clues. Her drawn features and the faraway look in Rook’s eyes spoke of difficult memories, and Zoey wondered if digging deeper would only unearth more pain. Deciding it was better to get the poison out, she pressed on. “You were close?”

  “The closest. He was my best friend. The first person I came out to and the only one in my family who didn’t give me shit for not wanting to go into the family business.”

  Zoey remembered Rook’s mention of her family full of lawyers during their picnic at Meridian Park. “So, I’m guessing he wasn’t a lawyer.”

  “Oh, we’re all lawyers. He was a third-year associate at Chamblee and Ives.” Rook paused, apparently detecting the blank stare and then added, “It’s a white shoe law firm in midtown Manhattan.”