Midnight Special: Coming on Strong

by Tawny Weber

  “Just let it go,” he ordered, as if he instinctively knew he’d made his point. Or, since she was such master spy material, he’d read it on her face.

  “I’m not dropping anything,” she shot back, shaking her head and reminding herself of everything she had on the line here.

  “Marni...”

  “What? What are you going to do?” she challenged. “Arrest me so I won’t write the story?”

  He gave her a long look, emotions swirling in the blue depths of his eyes. A shiver ran up Marni’s spine as she realized that, yes, that had probably been his intention. If that story ran, she’d be jeopardizing his case. He was a man who worked outside the rules whenever it suited him, as comfortable using unconventional methods to close a case as he was calling the shots.

  “You need to ask yourself this,” he said, leaning in so close she could almost feel his heartbeat. “Are you willing to sentence a woman to death just to feed your own ambition?”

  With that, and a look that clearly stated that if she was, she wasn’t the woman he thought her to be, Hunter turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

  His words echoed through the room.

  He didn’t look back.

  Marni didn’t know how long she stared at the closed door, not seeing a thing.

  All she knew was that she couldn’t face the mirror.

  Because she couldn’t handle what she’d see there yet.

  12

  HUNTER SAT IN THE CORNER of the dimly lit bar, glaring at his Scotch.

  “You stare at it long enough, it might even be palatable.”

  He slid his gaze sideways, blinked in surprise to see his best friend standing there, then he shook his head.

  “Not much makes rotgut palatable,” he said, shrugging and pushing the glass aside. The rickety table wobbled. As appealing as it was, getting drunk wasn’t a very good answer to his woes. But a better one might have just hitched himself onto the adjacent bar stool.

  “This is a surprise,” Hunter decided, keeping to his habit of understatement.

  Caleb Black’s eyes gleamed gold as he gave a wicked grin. “Consider it an early birthday present.”

  Hunter made a show of looking past his college roommate’s shoulder, as if searching for a gift, then gave him a slow once-over. “You got a bow on you somewhere I don’t see?”

  “You asking about my package?” Caleb quipped. He looked as if he’d just dropped in for a drink and friendly hello, but Hunter knew him well enough to see the intensity in his oldest friend’s eyes.

  Hunter’d had enough rotgut to smirk, but not enough that he felt obligated to answer the questions in his old friend’s eyes.

  “You’re a long ways from home. And my birthday is in November. So what’s the deal?”

  “San Francisco isn’t that far from the Santa Cruz Mountains.” In the years since they’d left college, Caleb had left an illustrious career with the DEA to settle in as sheriff of a small California town, but the two men were still tight. Probably tighter now, since Caleb wasn’t spending half of each year undercover, and more likely to send Hunter dirty emails and regular texts. Or, like now, show up out of the blue. Caleb dragged the bowl of peanuts closer from the middle of the table.

  “I heard you’d be here testifying, thought I’d come up and spend a day or so,” he said. “I thought it’d be fun to watch you do the feebie dance, put a bad guy behind bars.”

  “He’s not locked up yet.”

  And the case wasn’t nearly as open and shut as Hunter had hoped. It wasn’t that the feds’ prosecutors weren’t good. It was that Burns’s money was paying for a top-notch team of sleazy sharks with the predatory skills of starving jackals.

  The prosecution was winning. But it was taking a hell of a lot longer than any of them would like. Hunter knew from the increased frustration on Burns’s face each day that he hadn’t thought this would take more than a day or two, either.

  Every day Hunter sat in that courthouse, ignoring the stink eye Murray kept throwing his way, trying to convince himself that keeping Beverly Burns in a safe house and out of the case wasn’t a bad plan.

  All the while he had this ticking time bomb in the form of a gorgeous, sexy blonde. He had no idea if she’d go off. No clue when. But the minute that story broke, the defense was going to call a mistrial, and very likely Burns would slide out from under the charges like the snake he was.

  “So what’s the deal? You’re not usually the sleazy-bar drinking-alone type. Did the ferns die in all the preppie bars and this was your only option?”

  “This case is getting to me,” Hunter confessed, his words so low the tinny jukebox tunes almost drowned them out. “I called the strategy on it, and it’s looking like it might blow up in my face.”

  Caleb pursed his lips, contemplating the far wall as if he could see the future in it. Maybe he could. His pretty little wife specialized in woo woo. Finally he slid his gaze back to Hunter.

  “Worst-case scenario, you crap out at the FBI. I’ve got an opening for a deputy. You can come work for me.”

  After staring for one stunned second, Hunter threw back his head and laughed until his stomach hurt.

  “Right. That’s what I’m going to do if my career plunges into free fall. Plant myself in a tiny town, surrounded by known criminals.”

  “Suspected criminals,” Caleb corrected with a grin, breaking open a peanut. “And given that two of them are married to FBI agents themselves, I’d say it’s unlikely you’d have to worry about arresting anyone when you sat down to Sunday dinner with my family.”

  Now that was quite an image. Still grinning, Hunter let himself imagine a big, fancy Black meal with the guests lined up on either side of the table like cops and robbers. Paired off, boy, girl, boy, girl. And then there’d be him.

  Alone.

  No career, and no girl.

  His grin slid away.

  “What the hell is it with women?” Hunter finally asked. He peered at Caleb through eyes dimmed by enough rotgut to guarantee he’d feel like crap in the morning. “Why do they have to be so complicated? Or worse, so freaking obstinate.”

  “That’s part of their appeal,” Caleb mused, cracking open another peanut and popping the meat into his mouth. “Don’t forget irritating, exasperating, confusing and, oh, yeah, sexy as hell.”

  Yep. That was Marni in a nutshell.

  “You ever regret everything you gave up?”

  “Gave up? For Pandora?”

  Hunter nodded.

  “I suppose you mean other than all the gorgeous women who’d constantly throw themselves at my feet?”

  This time Hunter’s nod was accompanied by a smirk.

  Caleb lifted the basket of peanuts to poke through them, shook a couple into his hand and considered the question.

  “It wasn’t a matter of giving anything up. I’d already resigned the DEA, so the job wasn’t in question. I might not have moved back to Black Oak if she wasn’t there, but I’ve actually gained a lot from being there.” Caleb chose a few more peanuts. “There are drawbacks. My father. Pandora’s mother. They’re more work than the criminals.”

  Hunter didn’t doubt it. His own father had spent years trying to build a lock-tight case against Tobias Black, Caleb’s dad. The man was a con extraordinaire. But a con with a heart of gold.

  “What’s her name?”

  Caleb still had plenty of contacts in the DEA, and his own resources as a California sheriff. A name was all he needed to put together the entire story. Since Hunter was playing fast and loose with his stomach lining trying to decide if he’d done the right thing, he figured it was probably better not to offer up that information just yet.

  He didn’t insult either of them by playing stupid, though. He just shrugged.

  “She tied to the Burns case?”

  Hunter slanted a glare at his old roommate, wondering just how much digging Caleb had done before tracking him down.

  “What’s your interest in the case
?” he asked instead.

  “Not a whole lot other than wanting the trial to finish up quick enough that you still had time while you’re on this coast to visit Black Oak.”

  “It should be this week. We’ve got him on the ropes, but his team is dancing fast. Still, unless something huge breaks, we’ll be hearing closing arguments by Friday,” Hunter hazarded, more open to discussing the realities of the case with Caleb than he’d be with any fellow FBI agents. Or even himself.

  Especially since the biggest reality was that one juicy story hitting a national magazine could derail the entire thing.

  He tossed back the Scotch with a pained grimace.

  “You gonna come down this weekend, then? It’d be good timing. Maya and Gabriel are in town to celebrate the old man’s birthday.”

  Once again numbed by the Scotch, Hunter smirked.

  “You want me to attend your father’s birthday party?”

  Caleb matched his smirk with one of his own.

  “Why not? Your dad will be there.”

  Shit.

  Tension pounded.

  “I’m not sure I’m up for seeing either one of them,” he admitted.

  Caleb didn’t say a word. Just tossed back a few more peanuts, then signaled the waitress for a beer. He gave Hunter’s empty Scotch glass an assessing look, then lifted two fingers.

  It seemed Caleb thought it was time to switch up his drinking preferences. Since he was swimming on a comfortable sea of booze already, Hunter didn’t mind.

  The scantily clad waitress, her hair a brassy shade that made Hunter miss Marni’s soft flaxen curls all the more, dropped two steins on the table, held out her hand for Caleb’s cash, then sauntered away.

  Caleb took a drink, then pulled a face. Hunter probably should have warned him that what they had on tap in this place was a step up from horse piss. Then again, Caleb had been in enough dives to know that. He was just getting soft.

  “It’s never easy living up to certain reps, is it?” Caleb mused, referencing the comment about their fathers. “Or down to them.”

  Meaning their respective fathers.

  Hunter shrugged like it didn’t matter.

  Then, Scotch-induced honesty forced him to admit, “I never figured living up to my old man was a problem. I mean, I had it figured out, you know? All the advantages he didn’t have, a clear plan and a lot less holding me back.”

  “Like a wife and kid?”

  “I’m not saying it was a bad idea for him,” he shot back, grinning. “I think the results worked out pretty well. But for me? That kind of commitment would put a stranglehold on my trajectory.”

  “Or give you a nice cushion against your slightly obsessive drive to win.”

  Hunter frowned.

  “Did you just call me obsessive?”

  “Did you just claim you won’t open your life to a wife and the possibility of kids because they might slow down your climb up the FBI ladder?”

  Hunter’s head spun a few times clockwise, then once counterclockwise. Once it landed, he sighed.

  “Okay, maybe I’ve been known to be obsessive. But that’s what it takes, right? I want this career, and if I want it to shine, then I’ve gotta make sacrifices.” Choices. Like letting the potential destroyer of his career move ahead with her story, just because he couldn’t bring himself to play badass with her.

  He’d listened to so many of her stories, watched how she lit up when she talked about writing, he knew how important her career was. But unlike him, she didn’t have a strong family support system. Didn’t have anyone who believed in her ability to make it happen.

  No matter what it cost him, he couldn’t be the one to crush those dreams. To intimidate the hell out of her so she was afraid to take a chance at them. Instead, he’d just cross his fingers and hope she didn’t screw up his career on the way to making hers?

  It was all Hunter could do not to drop his head into his hands and groan. He’d hit heretofore-unimagined levels of pathetic-ness.

  “You’re a mess,” Caleb observed with his usual tact and diplomacy. “You never worried about trials before and usually take tough cases in stride. You want to talk it out?”

  Hunter didn’t know how to explain, even to himself, why he’d walked out and left Marni with the option to take her information public. He wasn’t a do-gooder. Nor was he the kind of guy who left huge decisions up to other people, banking on his faith in humanity. Hell, he figured most of humanity was on the take, out to screw over the next guy.

  Since he was clueless to explain the mess in his head, he shrugged instead.

  “So you’re saying I gotta go to your old man’s birthday bash this weekend if I’m gonna get my own birthday gift? Isn’t that called dirty pool?”

  “You’ll actually get the gift in November,” Caleb clarified. The only thing missing from his canary-eating grin were a few feathers. “I’m just giving you the official heads-up this weekend.”

  Hunter narrowed his Scotch-blurred gaze.

  “You might want to spill it before you burst.”

  “You might want to wrap up this case before the end of the year.” Caleb tossed another peanut into his mouth, crunched, then grinned. “Because we’re gonna want you in Black Oak then. You know, since Pandora wants you to stand as godfather.”

  The Scotch blur faded from Hunter’s brain in a flash.

  “Pandora’s having a baby?” He grinned, feeling good for the first time in a week. He clasped Caleb’s hand in a hard shake. “Seriously? Congrats, man. That’s great.”

  Caleb shrugged like it was no big deal, but his beaming smile screamed his joy.

  Hunter reveled in his friend’s happiness for a few seconds. Then the alcohol haze lured him back to his own black thoughts.

  “How do you do it? Juggle the demands of your career, marriage and now a kid?”

  “I’m not undercover anymore. I don’t think I could do it if I was. You lose yourself. Lose your life.”

  Hunter nodded, having done enough undercover to know what Caleb meant.

  “Otherwise, juggling is just like anything else. If it’s something that matters, you make it work.” Still straddling the chair, Caleb leaned forward, so it perched on two legs. It creaked in protest. “So, what’re you thinking about?”

  “I’m not thinking anything,” Hunter dismissed.

  “Right.” Caleb ate a few more nuts, then let his chair drop flat to the floor. “Look, you’ve done me a few favors. Now, officially we’re square since I did you one last year. But in the name of friendship, I’m going to spot you another.”

  “That favor, as you call it, was what snagged you the pretty little wife you’re so crazy in love with. So I think we’re even.”

  Caleb waited.

  Finally, Hunter shrugged. “Yeah, okay fine. I’ll owe you one.”

  It spoke to what a solid friend he was that Caleb didn’t smirk. He just nodded, dropped his arms to the table and leaned forward.

  “You got it bad for this woman. Bad enough that you’re questioning things you’ve always seen as black-and-white.”

  Hunter didn’t need to ask how Caleb knew.

  “The thing is, relationships, women, they always dance in the gray. They aren’t going to simply fall in line behind your career. At least, the right one won’t.” Caleb stared into his beer for a second, his big dorky grin back. Then he met Hunter’s gaze and shrugged. “You just gotta ask yourself what matters. What’s life like with this woman in it? And what’s it like without her.”

  Hunter shook his head, wanting to dismiss the idea of anyone lining up ahead of his career with an easy smile.

  But the image of Marni’s face kept flashing in his brain.

  “Then what?”

  “Then you accept the inevitable. You’re in love enough to ask the questions, you’re in love enough to find a way to live with the answers.”

  * * *

  MARNI PACED.

  From the tall black statue shaped like a menacing u
mbrella, then back to the squat one resembling a demented rabbit. Back, forth, again and again.

  She pushed her hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the unbrushed curls. She was a mess. Three days of alternating between pacing, writing and crying hadn’t left much room for grooming and tidiness.

  “Well?” she finally asked, unable to stand the wait any longer. Or the view. These statues were getting uglier by the hour.

  Robin didn’t seem to care about her torment, though.

  The older woman held up one finger and continued to read. Marni went back to pacing. She only made it to squat and ugly, though, before her aunt set the pages aside.

  “Well?” Marni asked again. She sat on the black leather bench opposite Robin. Then, too worried to take the news sitting down, she jumped up and started pacing again.

  “Well...” Robin gave the printed pages another look, then hummed.

  Marni had only met her aunt five days ago, but she’d already figured out that while the woman was quick to ask questions, she was slow to answer them. She weighed each word like it was gold, and she was a miser. It was harder to use a quote against someone if the words went unsaid, she’d informed her niece over dinner the previous night.

  Still, frustration surged through Marni’s system. It was all she could do not to dig her fingers into her hair and tug.

  Finally, Robin pushed the papers away and smiled.

  “I think you’ve a great deal of talent. You have a spark in your writing, an edge and humor that are balanced by a depth of emotion that tugs the reader in before they realize it.”

  Oh. Eyes huge, Marni started to smile. That was nice.

  “You need editing, of course. You’re a little wordy in places, meandering in others. But the core is here, and the impact is huge.”

  Marni’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Wordy and meandering were editable. Huge, with a core and impact? Holy cow. She wanted to dance with the tree. To throw her arms wide and embrace the entire weird room. To curl up on the leather bench and cry.

  She’d spent three days working on that piece.