by Sophia Gray
“Go on,” Abby encouraged him, sounding more reassuring than Jagger would have expected. He wondered if she was putting her nursing habits to use, treating him with kid gloves like she would any of her patients. In any case, it worked. He immediately felt himself relax, the tone of her voice helping him exhale heavily and release pent-up energy that was hiding inside of his muscles.
“There’s a couple of guys who used to be a part of Satan’s Blazes, but they’re not anymore. They got kicked out.”
“Jesus, what do you have to do for that to happen, lose at a drinking game?” Abby asked teasingly.
Jagger pulled up to the parking lot of the breakfast place, switching off the car before jumping out and walking around to open Abby’s door for her. By the time he’d walked around she’d already jumped out, completely oblivious to what he was trying to do. Oh, well. He’d have to prove that he could be a gentleman some other way. They walked into the restaurant and grabbed a table, a booth near the back where they could talk privately without worrying about being overheard.
“Um, to answer your question from before,” Jagger said as soon as the waitress left them alone. “You have to be violent, really violent, to get kicked out. It’s more than a three-strikes rule. You have to be so bad the rest of the organization votes to kick you out, and it’s gotta be a majority.”
“So, we’re talking some really shitty people here,” Abby concluded, smiling weakly at the waitress as she came by to give them two glasses of water and take their order. “I’ll have two kinds of pancakes if that’s okay,” Abby said, “one blueberry, the other chocolate chip. And can I get sausage on the side of that, with some scrambled eggs as well?”
Jagger quickly put in his regular order, but he couldn’t help laughing a little once the waitress walked away. “Jesus, you hungry or something?”
Abby made a face. “It’s not polite to comment on what a woman is eating, you know.”
Jagger flushed a little, embarrassed that he’d already made a mistake even two minutes into their meal. “I’m sorry, I just think it’s nice, you know, seeing a woman eat. It’s depressing when women just order a salad with the dressing on the side.”
Abby nodded slowly, taking a deep sip of her water. “Well, I don’t have any time to waste, you know. With my schedule, I gotta eat when I get the opportunity. I couldn’t pretend to be dainty even if I wanted to.”
Somehow Jagger figured the truth was that she just didn’t want to appear that way. She seemed like a woman who had already fought wars with herself, who was done with that part of her life where she pretended to be somebody else for a man’s benefit. Jagger wasn’t sure how to compliment her for that. He figured that she might just get offended that he was psychoanalyzing her without even really knowing her, but he wanted to congratulate her somehow, on reaching a point in life where she was at least a little comfortable with herself.
“Anyway, the two guys,” Jagger said, straightening up in his seat and inching closer so he could murmur softly and Abby could still hear him. “They still live in the area, so they have access, but they’re both kind of old. They might not be working alone. I have to interview them to figure it out.”
“I could do it,” Abby said quickly, practically perking up in her seat. “I mean, they might be expecting you to come, right? They’ll recognize you from Satan’s Blazes if they were there when you were. But they might not know what I look like.”
Jagger shook his head slowly. “They’ve been targeting you, Abby. They have at least some idea of what you look like.”
“Oh,” Abby said, deflating like a balloon. “I guess you’re right. But I could like… I don’t know, wear a disguise or something. I could dress up as a cop and scare the shit out of them!”
As much as the idea of Abby dressing up in a cop’s uniform got Jagger’s engine revving, he had to shake his head. “No, it’s too risky, come on.”
“Well, what if we went together?” Abby suggested just as their food was placed in front of them. She picked up her fork and started stabbing at the pancakes, so roughly that syrup splattered up on her chin, but she was entirely focused on Jagger, staring at him so hard her eyes looked like missiles. “You can’t talk your way out of that one, right? It’s safest if you have some back-up.”
“It’s safest if they don’t get suspicious,” Jagger argued. “If they think I’m just coming by to say hi, then that’s the best solution.”
“So? I could be, like, your girlfriend or something,” Abby said. “You could just be stopping by to check on them, and I could be there with you. It makes perfect sense. Why wouldn’t you bring your girlfriend unless you were afraid of them? Come on, Jagger. Think about this,” she said before sliding huge slabs of syrupy pancake into her mouth.
She made a good point, but Jagger’s resolve didn’t weaken. Even if she was helping him go over his notes or whatever, there was no way he was letting her help physically with the investigation. It was way too dangerous, especially since the arsonist seemed to have a burning desire to hurt Abby. “It’s not the best idea,” he said before painstakingly carving his pancake up into neat little pieces, each one the same size and shape. “It’s just too dangerous.”
Abby leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was pissed. That much was obvious. “So, what’s the point in having me help, then?”
“You’re a smart gal,” Jagger said with a shrug, cringing a little at the scowl that formed on Abby’s face in response to his words. “Sorry, I just meant. You know, another set of eyes on the evidence, right? It can only be helpful. I need your mind. Not your body.” He blushed a little at that last sentence, afraid that he’d crossed a line again. Based on the way Abby swallowed and looked away, she was thinking the same thing he was. Their night together. It had been amazing, perfect, and everything Jagger could want. It was also never going to happen again, at least according to Abby, so the smartest course of action was just to push it out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, even if she were sitting right in front of him.
Abby stuck her fork in the center of one of her pancakes and started rotating it, sending specks of pancake in every direction across her plate. “Feels like you just want to placate me, keep me contained, and well-behaved while you do all the actual work,” she said softly. She sounded wounded, like Jagger had hurt her feelings. Guilt struck him right in the chest, causing his heartbeat to stutter a little bit, but he cleared his throat, trying to keep a steady head.
“I want to keep you safe. Is that so bad?” Jagger was worried that the question was going to come across as patronizing because it was truly sincere. He wanted to know if he was being ridiculous or not, but his principles told him that he wasn’t. Her safety was everything. It didn’t matter if she was pissed, it didn’t matter if she was hurt, it didn’t matter if she was never going to kiss him ever again. All that mattered was that she was safe, and that she was alive. That she still had a chance to be happy. Jagger was going to fight for that, no matter what.
“It is. It’s bad if it makes me a glass doll incapable of doing anything other than break,” Abby muttered.
Jagger wasn’t sure what to say to that. Instead, he just started shoving pieces of pancake into his mouth, chewing slowly and thoroughly, like he always did, watching as Abby just stared down at her mutilated breakfast.
Finally, Jagger found some words to use, even though he knew they were probably ridiculously insufficient. “You’re… Not weak, Abby. That’s not what it’s about.”
“Then what is it?” Abby asked, tearing her eyes away from her pancakes to stare at him. He expected her to be glaring, but instead, there was a question burning in her eyes, a deep curiosity, a desperation to know the answer to her question. “What is it about me that makes you so afraid I’ll get hurt?”
“Because you’re special,” Jagger said without thinking, the words leaving his mouth before he even knew they existed. “You’re special. I don’t want you to ge
t hurt. It would be such a fucking waste if you got hurt because of this bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Abby argued. “Robert…”
“I know, I know. It’s a serious thing. But you’re so much bigger than this, Abby. You save lives.”
“So do you,” she said, her eyes tearing away from his to stare at her hands, nestled together in her lap.
“You know what I mean. You nurture people. You connect with them. That’s more important than anything I’ve ever done, even when I’ve pulled people out of burning buildings,” Jagger said.
“You don’t even want to let me work,” Abby said indignantly, even though her eyes remained focused on her thighs.
“For the time being, yeah, I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Jagger admitted. “But that’s because only I know how important you are in the long run. I saw how you were with Robert. After everything, after years with Satan’s Blazes, you were all he had. That’s bigger than anything I’ve ever done before, being there for somebody. You’re special, Abby. You deserve better than to get involved with something that could kill you.”
He saw Abby chew on her bottom lip, tearing the sensitive skin off with her teeth. He was tempted to tell her to stop doing that, but then he remembered the whole reason they were arguing to begin with: His protective nature. That had always been a big problem in relationships. Of course, it would get in the way of this non-relationship. Jagger wasn’t sure what to call his connection with Abby. A romantic hook-up? A one-night stand? A weird obsession? All the above?
Abby finally cleared her throat and returned to her breakfast, hurriedly spooning it into her mouth before talking around her food. “Well, you know, it’s not exactly like you can stop me, anyway, so it’s not a big deal, I guess…” she said in between chewing motions.
“What do you mean?” Jagger asked, confused.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. You can’t control me, so that’s that,” Abby said in an overly casual tone of voice. It was clear that she was still pissed as hell, but she was trying to hide it. It made Jagger more uncomfortable than had she just screamed at him all-out in the middle of the restaurant.
“Abby. You’re not going with me to interview the suspects, okay? It’s just not happening,” Jagger said, hardening his tone as if he were an elementary school teacher dealing with a particularly obstinate student. He knew he was being insultingly condescending. He knew he didn’t have any real authority over her, but it was his job to keep people alive. He was good at his job, and Abby wasn’t going to get in the way, no matter how independent or beautiful or smart she was.
Abby glared at him, her eyes narrowing to tiny pinpricks of color on her face. “Says who? You? That’s not enough to stop me.”
Jagger’s brain frantically searched for a legitimate reason to keep her from following him to the interviews. He knew he could stop her physically if need be, but he didn’t want to get to that point with Abby. He had a feeling that if he restrained her by locking her in her room, for instance, there would be no turning back. There’d be no way she’d ever kiss him again if he treated her that way. He had to come at this differently. He had to make it feel like her decision. For now, he opted for a distraction. Argue with her, his brain decided. That’s the way to buy time until you come up with an alternate solution.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he asked, his voice coming out angrier than he had intended. Whatever. It got the point across.
“I could ask the same thing of you,” Abby shot back, quickly finishing the last item on her plate before leaning back and staring at him expectantly, hoping that Jagger was going to give up and lead her to the first suspect’s place.
“No, seriously,” Jagger said, refusing to allow Abby to turn the line of interrogation back around on him. “What is it that annoys you so much about being protected?”
“Because it’s a lie!” Abby shot back, shocking him with the sudden increase in volume. A couple of nearby breakfasters turned their heads to see what the fuss was about, but things calmed back down immediately. Nonetheless, Abby looked embarrassed anyway, rubbing her temples with her thumbs and forefingers as if to comfort herself.
“What do you mean by that?” Jagger asked, a little afraid of where this line of conversation was heading. Still, he needed to know. He was never going to stop accidentally pissing Abby off if he didn’t figure out how she worked.
“It’s never… real,” Abby said softly as if she was talking more to herself than to anybody else. “People say they want to help you, they want to keep you safe, make you better, but it never turns out that way. They always leave, taking the best of you with them.” A sad smile spread across her face, her eyes darkening as she spoke.
“Make you better?” Jagger asked, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. It was like he was afraid for Abby to hear his words, worried that any little thing might set her off and she’d storm away from him. That was the worst-case scenario, Abby out in the world without his protection. Still, he had to ask. He had to understand her. And if he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t just because he wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to know her, wanted to crack open that skull of hers and see everything inside.
Abby sighed, all her breath blowing out at once as she pulled her hair back from her face, holding onto the sides of her head with her hands like she was trying to keep her brain together. “I was sick, as a teenager, okay? That’s all. That’s why I’ve got issues.”
“What do you mean, sick? Like mentally or…?” Jagger asked hesitantly, his words coming out slowly and uncertainly.
“Physically,” Abby answered him quickly. “Physically sick. Really, really fucking sick. Like on the verge of death sick. It’s why I chose to become a nurse.”
“Oh,” Jagger said. It was all he could muster up as a reply. It was hard to imagine Abby in a hospital bed, wasting away like one of her patients. “How long?”
“Like a year,” Abby said. “I had to make up a lot of schooling.”
“Jesus,” Jagger breathed out, causing Abby to nod furiously in response.
“Yeah. Jesus is right. I was out of commission. Stuck in the hospital, waiting to die.” Abby’s voice was cold and hard, almost mean-sounding, like she was talking about some pathetic weak person that she used to know. “It was disgusting,” she muttered under her breath.
“Disgusting? It sounds like you were very sick. What’s disgusting about that?” Jagger asked, feeling his brows furrow up in confusion.
“Because,” Abby said, and for a second Jagger thought that was all she was going to say by way of explanation. “Because I couldn’t do anything by myself. I was… I was useless. It was the worst time of my life.”
“And that’s why…that’s why it’s so hard for you to just sit back and wait, huh?” Jagger said as the realization of why she was so stubborn dawned on him slowly. This was what the whole thing was about, her anger, her defensiveness, her insistence that she be included in the investigation of Robert’s death. All of it came back to being a sick teenage girl who couldn’t save herself.
“I’ve done enough waiting for a lifetime,” Abby said. “Once you’ve waited months upon months, to hear if you’re going to live or die— Well, that just about fulfills your quota, I think.”
“I bet,” Jagger said, mental images flooding his brain as he considered the horrors that Abby had to endure as a kid. “Jesus, that must have been rough on your parents.”
Abby flinched a little, rearing back in her seat like the words burned her.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” Jagger asked.
She shook her head quickly, but she didn’t meet Jagger’s eyes. “No, no, it’s—it’s fine. It’s fine,” she muttered, reaching into her purse to grab a fistful of dollar bills to place on the tabletop for the waitress. “Let’s go.”
“Hey, I can get it,” Jagger said, getting out his own cash to cover the bill. “Take your money. It’s okay.”
“You’re
not going to pay for me, all right?” Abby said, and the sharp edge to her voice returned. It was almost a relief, hearing her annoyance rather than the distant way she spoke when she was talking about her past.
“All right,” Jagger said, deciding not to push the issue. He wondered if she’d ever accepted help from anybody in her whole life. Maybe she was more used to giving it than receiving it.
Her patients! Jagger had a Eureka moment as he realized that was the key to keeping her away from the investigation, at least for the day. She needed to see her sick patients. Just a few days ago, Jagger would have resisted the idea of her going out of the compound at all. She’d already gone with Tony once, and everything seemed to work out okay. Tony was a huge dude, all brawn, and very little brains. He wasn’t the type that people tended to mess with.
“How are your charges doing?” Jagger asked innocently, trying to sound as casual as possible, as they climbed back into his car, heading back toward the compound.