by Tina Gower
But it’s not me. I’m fateless. And I can’t admit that to them either. “That’s not what he meant. He didn’t mean in it a sexual way. We worked on a very intense case together recently.”
“Officer Becker was very clear. He signed the paperwork.”
“He what?” My gaze drops down to the papers. And there’s Ian’s name scrawled in a curly print, too elegant to belong to the Becker I know. But it is. I’ve seen that script on his case files when they come through our office. Damn it, Becker. In his desperate attempt to cover his own secrets he was willing to risk mine.
He didn’t sign them all. Thank gods.
My gaze shifts back to the angel. I’m shaking now for another reason. I’m not cold anymore. I’m hot. I’m pissed. “There is no relationship. Officer Becker didn’t sign that form and I won’t either.”
“Officer Becker also insisted that, but in the event of a possible relationship we must have the paperwork that we spoke with you on file. Surly, as an agent of risk assessment you must understand our position.”
I glance at the papers again. Becker didn’t sign the relationship claim, only the one saying they met with him and the form that clears the company of any liability if he were to claim sexual harassment. Were they trying to trick me into signing all of them?
He sets the pen in front of me. His fingernails are filed to points. The skin around his wrist is stripped with gold and silver. He’s a shifter of some kind. Becker wouldn’t have been able to lie to him. And neither could I.
“No reassignments. If there were an interest in a relationship, hypothetical, it doesn’t mean either of us will act on it.” I point the pen at him. “I’ll limit my contact with Officer Becker in a professional capacity. Any cases I need to run through the liaison will be filtered through Officer Lipski, his partner.”
“You don’t make the decisions, I’m afraid.”
“If you don’t, I’ll take action for wrongful reassignment, since both of us deny the claim. I should have done that the first time. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I sign the paper stating they’ve met with me and explained the situation, my signature more jagged than usual. I toss the pen on the table and glare at the man across from me. “Are we done?” I flick my gaze to the camera. Yeah, I get that “we” reference now.
“Yes, Ms. Hale. We are done.”
Chapter 16
I tap on the elevator buttons over and over like that will get me out of the building any faster—a habit I picked up from a certain wolf.
Screw the probation. Screw the no long lunch breaks. Gretchen’s not in when I grab all my stuff, so I leave her an emailed message informing her I’m out to meet with a lead, and yes, I got clearance from Yin.
Then I text Lipski to let him know I’m leaving the building, but mid-text and after the third auto-correct failure, I call him instead.
He picks up on the first ring. “Officer Hank Lipski.”
“Why did you do it? This isn’t funny. This is my job we’re talking about.”
I hover close to the bus stop, but far enough away that nobody can overhear my conversation.
There’s a short pause on his end where I hear the busy shuffle and phone ringing of the precinct then the close of a door that quiets all the background noise. “What’s going on, Kate?” The humor is gone from his voice. No pleasurable teasing.
“Someone told HR that Becker and I were involved in a romantic relationship. They forced us to sign consent and acknowledgment forms.”
He clears his throat. “Well, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you, Lipski. That was a shit move.”
“Whoa, slow down. It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do something like that to Beck. Not right now.” There’s a muffle. Lipski asks me to wait a minute and whispers to someone who must have just come into his cubical. “I don’t have the file. Check with Greenly.”
I pace outside my office building, using the interruption to find my Zen place. Take huge gulping breaths that release into the chilly November air with puffs of vapor.
“Have you seen him?” Lipski asks when he returns to me. “Didn’t he come by?”
“Seen him? You mean Becker?”
“No Santa. Yes, I mean Beck. He’s been looking for you since I dropped you off. We got the shade in custody. Found him off the highway in an abandoned semi-trailer a few miles from your apartment. Becker dragged him into booking and he had some pretty disturbing things to say. Didn’t really care about that right to remain silent.”
“Becker’s been calling me. I assumed because HR said they pulled him in to sign the papers. He signed the damn release of liability papers, so when I pitched a fit it looked like I was a liar.”
“Of course he signed the papers, Kate. You can’t lie to Damian. It’s better to just give him a little of what he’s looking for and play damage control. It might be because of what the shade had to say.”
“And what was that? What does any of that have to do with me?”
“I should let Becker tell you.”
“You should tell Becker to stay away from me. I didn’t sign the liability or relationship consent, so now it’s going to look like he’s pursuing me. It’s going to look like a potential harassment case in the making. How could he have been such an idiot? They’re going to reassign him.”
“Maybe because he’s more interested in protecting you than his own reputation or even his career. If you sign the liability form they have no reason to keep harassing you, especially if you sign, too.”
“But they could reassign us on a whim. I told them I’d report to you. Every case I need a consult on needs to go through you.”
“Why don’t we talk about this when you’ve had a chance to talk it over with Ian and cool off.”
The bus I’m waiting for pulls up, and the small crowd of people huddled by the stop shuffles on. “I’ll start that cooling off now. This was just a courtesy call. I’m on my way to Hickman’s Software and Hardware. And since you’ve caught the shade, I’m no longer in danger.” I wait for Lipski to deny it. When he doesn’t respond, I end the call.
I know the situation with Becker is different than Kyle. I know it. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier. I tip my head back against the seat and let the shimmy of the bus lull me into a giving-less-of-a-fuck state. The bus stops become a game. I count to ten, focusing on my breathing, but the loss of anger makes my eyes damp. I’ll keep the frustration at the edge, where I can touch it at a moment’s notice.
The passengers thin out closer to the outskirts of town until it’s just me and a homeless man sleeping on the bus. When we hit the industrial area, it’s my stop. The air is thicker here, laced with the sharp tang of oil and metal. Warehouses come in shades of bone and carnie steampunk yellow. Hickman’s is a plain, unassuming ecru with some sort of black slats design between the windows that are like black reflective mirrors to the mini landscaped grass knolls at each entrance.
The bus hisses and grumbles off. I wave my hand in front of my face to disperse the scent of diesel a little quicker and cough as I go over my notes one last time. Gathering the information for the case, which has narrowed down nicely in the last few days. A few days ago Gretchen had assured me it would be a piece of cake, just help them build a database to prevent future matches with the recently deceased. And I’d turned it into a full investigation and would soon bring that person to justice. Pepper Amore had likely used her status as the IT person for both Ever After and Health Predicted United Insurance to create the bad love matches with the dead. Likely to help her sister win the lawsuit against the company. It all came together nicely.
Maybe too nicely? No. It’s solid. Just because my personal life is falling apart didn’t mean my professional instincts were questionable.
I’d solved the mystery. All while being followed by an invisible-to-me assailant who wanted to silence me. Ever After wanted me to halt the case, Liza Hamilton wanted me to halt everything. Probably because my fateless status made it difficult for h
er to spy on me via her own personal predictions net. No matter how bad my day gets, I imagine Liza Hamilton steaming from her cell and hope my existence messing up her plans makes her day worse.
I’m unstoppable. I’m on fire. I’m Kate Hale and I’m going to solve this case and become the next Kitman.
I walk along the sidewalk, my heels dragging as I hit the uneven cement. I’m zeroed in on my target, so I don’t notice the out-of-place scent of donuts wafting next to me. I do notice the black unassuming, unmarked car driving at a snail’s pace keeping in time next to me.
The passenger window rolls down. “Come on, Kate, get in the car.”
“Go away, Becker. I have a case to finish and I’m having an unbelievably shitty day.”
“Me too. Get in the car so we can talk about it.”
“You’re the reason for my bad day.” I clutch my laptop bag harder and shoot him my best I-hate-you face. “Why would I increase my risk for an even shitter day?”
He sighs. “Kate. I’m so sorry. I really am. Just get in the car so I can explain. Please.”
I stop. He stops. But I don’t get in the car. Instead I focus on the flat tabletop peaks that are much clearer out here. It was a traitorous thing those angels did to those village people all those years ago. They’d placed too much trust in someone else. Expectation management. I needed to set the boundaries, so I wouldn’t be disappointed again. I’d expected too much from Becker. Even though I’d thought avoiding a relationship would make it less complicated, it did the opposite. Now I don’t know where I stand.
The crank of the emergency brake doesn’t break my focus. I keep the mountains in view. I can’t see him behind me, but I can feel him. Like my extremities are extended and there’s some kind of special sense that includes him.
He coughs and the fog from his breath blows past me, over my shoulder. He fidgets his arms like his hands are in his jacket pockets. It’s so clear to me, I almost turn around to see if I’m right. I shiver, realizing I forgot a proper jacket at home. Then I hear the undeniable sound of clothing rubbing and crinkling.
His coat comes over my shoulders. I tug the lapels together, his body warmth instantly soothing. It’s not worth fighting any longer. My shoulders slump. “Ian—”
“Turn around. Let me look you in the eyes when I explain.”
I do, biting my lip to keep from saying something I might regret later. He’s in uniform, vest and all. It doesn’t fit, considering he’s driving his personal car, but Becker gets away with not following the rules. The lines around his mouth and under his eyes age him. His hair isn’t as unruly as usual, like he’s brushed it, but the wind has blown it slightly out of place. His irises are normal, which means he’ll at least be calm while we discuss this. He wrings his hands together, then brings them down as fists to his side. He’s completely unaffected by the chill, not even a tension against the frigid breeze.
He scrunches his mouth to one side of his face, sparing me a small glance. “I’m not good at this kind of thing. I’m not good at talking about feelings.”
Understatement. Becker isn’t good at talking unless it involves a case.
He hooks his thumbs in his front pockets. “I wasn’t going to sign the paperwork. It wasn’t until the end, when he showed the picture of me climbing up your wall. I remember that day. I wasn’t going to go back; I wasn’t going to use you like pack, but that day was…harder.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I’ve only had one other pack and they’re all gone. So all my mistakes with them are gone, too. But also everything I’d done right. They taught me so much about what it is to be a wolf. But not enough, because there’s a lot I don’t really know. I wasn’t ready to be alone.” He shrugs, and his gaze shifts to the ground.
I hug his jacket closer. “It’s okay, Becker. You weren’t ready to be alone and you didn’t ask for me to step in. You were desperate and if you want out—”
He cuts me off with a sharp, heated look. “That’s not it.” He rubs the knuckles of one hand against the palms of another. “I want you too much. It hurts to breathe.” His ribs hitch when he takes in air, as though he’s demonstrating the pain. “And it feels like I’m disrespecting them at the same time. Like they weren’t enough.”
I swallow. My chin trembles. He’s too confused with guilt to really know how he feels about me. Like some sort of crappy transference.
He motions to his jacket pocket. I reach inside and my fingers brush against the sharp edges of a thick paper. I pull it out. It’s a picture of his pack, but it’s a different one than the one hung up on his corkboard at his house. He’s in this one. A faded print out, on a printer that needed more ink. It’s more blues and yellows than bright pinks. Maybe it’s appropriate, as if they’re frozen in a time devoid of the happy memories they must have created.
He points to the girl next to him on the end, careful to keep his expression hidden and eyes averted. “I was sleeping with her.”
His admission hits like a punch directly in the center of my chest. I nearly drop the photo. Since they were all pack, he was sleeping with all of them as in full REM and all that, but that’s not what he means.
I manage to tear my gaze from the photo. “Look, I understand that you don’t want a relationship. Signing that paper wasn’t a smart move. I’ve been there before and I know it’s a mistake. Now it’s going to be harder for either of us to do our job if we’re forced to avoid each other. I don’t want to be reassigned. Gods, for all my luck they’ll downgrade me to Weather this time. You can’t be reassigned because Gretchen is happy with your work and it’s been a long time since they had a liaison who actually answered their calls.”
Becker knits his eyebrows. His neck shrinks lower onto his shoulders, like a dog before its back hairs hackle. “I’m not explaining why I signed that paperwork. I’m telling you why I left last night.”
I grip the photo. I’d rather we talk about the consent form, but if he wants to talk about the messier stuff first, then fine.
“So you loved her.” I hold the photo out for him to take, but he doesn’t. “And you don’t love me. Do we really need to do this? I have work to do.”
“I didn’t love her.” His voice goes low and his forces the words out between his teeth. “It just sort of happened and I didn’t really care one way or the other. I don’t really think she did either.” He stops, takes a moment. His shoulders ease. “Sometimes it’s easier to let things happen without thinking about the consequences.” He opens his mouth and presses his lips together, like a parent trying to explain something difficult to their child. As though there is a whole lot more that could be said, but it’s too complex to go into more detail. “It was like running onto a speeding train and not stopping to ask the destination.”
Because it’s strange to keep looking at her—the woman Becker had sex with, but for some reason has something to do with us—I gently glide the photo into his coat pocket. I pull the ends closed to keep out the cold.
“What are you trying to say?” I shrug, losing steam from what feels like the longest day I’ve had since my parents died. “It sounds like neither of us has any clue what’s going on.”
I eye the building where Pepper Amore works. If I could just write this last thing off my plate, I’d have room to take on this problem with my full attention. But Becker and I aren’t some statistical equation. My fingers dig into my laptop case, fiddling with the edges of the manila envelope Yin gave me.
“I have to confess something. Since you didn’t much like me reading about werewolves—” I slowly drag out the envelope.
Becker’s hand wraps gently around my wrist. “No. I overreacted. I shouldn’t have made you feel like a jerk for wanting to know how pack works.”
I sigh. “It’s fine. I know how it must have looked.” I should have been honest with him from the beginning, like I’m going to be now. “Yin ran my cupid’s note.”
His eyes narrow on the manila folder. “But you’re fateless.” He takes the enve
lope that I offer. “You didn’t open it?”
“No, because this one’s yours.”
He’s stiff, his expression morphing from concern at the report to glancing at it like I handed him a pile of sewage.
I clutch his coat harder, expecting him to bail again, but he waits for the explanation this time.
“Mine was inconclusive as you guessed, but Yin is relentless. I borrowed that shifter book from her and she deduced that I must have been interested in you, since nearly full-blooded werewolves aren’t exactly in abundance around Angel’s Peak. So she ran a match profile on you.”
“So she got this for you?” He thrusts it back at me. “I don’t need this.”
“Then you can get rid of it, because it has nothing to do with me.”
“Nothing?” His eyes flash at my explanation, but he shifts, changing his expression to neutral, which is what he does right before he’s going to lie. “It has nothing to do with me either.”
I let out a short humorless laugh. “Becker it’s your match profile. It’s all about you.”
He huffs a frustrated burst of air from both nostrils. “I didn’t ask for it. And I don’t need to read it.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to do with it and searches around the area. Not finding a trash can, he tosses it into the window of his car. It falls onto the passenger seat floor. “Eat lunch with me. Let’s not talk about this out here in the freezing cold.”
“I can’t. I’m on a case right now. And thanks to HR we can no longer pretend we’re working together or we’ll face further scrutiny.”
“Dinner works better for me anyway.”
“We can’t have dinner. They’ll think it’s a date and—”
He cuts me off with a growl. His fingers grip his hair and release in one quick motion. “Maybe it is a date.”