The man spat at the ground beside his left foot. "Fuck you," he said for a third time. "Rich bitch can deal with it herself."
"Listen, Nina, I've got his license plate number, I'll just call the police later and file a report," Tess murmured in Robin's ear, not wanting the situation to escalate any further.
"He rear-ended your car," Robin argued, but their unpleasant new acquaintance had other ideas. "He could have killed us!"
"I'm not giving anyone shit."
"Sir, just –"
"Make me."
That was the last straw. Robin stepped forward, straightening her spine and pulling herself up to her full height, invading the man's personal space. "Oh, I'll make you." Remembering her Intimidating Civilians 101 lecture from her Quantico days, she decided to out-bully the bully. "Listen, I have contacts at the FBI, and trust me, I will make sure they find your sorry ass."
It was exactly the wrong thing to say. Immediately, the man panicked. "Fuck! FBI? I'm not lettin' them take me," he shouted, mostly to himself, and reached into the back of his pants. Before he had a chance to pull out whatever was behind his back, Robin stomped hard on his instep, following up with a swift elbow to the face. The blow landed with a sickening crack, and the man dropped what he had been reaching for, hands flying up to try and staunch the flow of blood that was spurting out of his nose.
Breathing fast, Robin reached for her service weapon and trained it on the grunting, bleeding motorist with both hands. Even though her heart was pounding at a hundred miles a minute, she kept her words deliberately slow as her eyes flicked towards the gun that had fallen from the man's pants. "Drawing on a Law Enforcement officer? You just landed in a whole new pile of shit, asshole." Still holding her own gun, she spoke to Tess without moving her eyes. "Call the police."
Law Enforcement Officer? Tess's mind was still whirling with everything that had happened in the last twenty seconds, but she obediently dialed 911 and asked to be connected. Realizing just how much trouble he was in, Robin's temporary hostage decided to make one last bid for escape, abandoning his injured nose and dropping to the ground in order to scramble for his lost weapon. Not wanting to shoot unless it was necessary, Robin settled for giving him a knee to the groin.
"You're just being all kinds of stupid today, aren't you?" she said as he gaped like a fish, toppling the rest of the way to the street with an undignified squeak. Robin kicked the gun away with her foot, hoping that the safety was on. Fortunately, the gentle nudge did not set off the gun. Many illegal weapons didn't even have a safety, and she no idea what this weapon’s status was.
In the background, she heard Tess hang up on the switchboard operator. "The police are on their way," she said numbly, completely unsure how to handle what had just happened. At least she wasn't panicking. Further mention of the police made the man on the street uncurl from the fetal position and try to crawl away. Robin stopped him by placing a heavy foot in the middle of his back. He went limp with an 'oof' of protest. The agent was exceptionally glad that this guy was separated from his gun, because some wannabe thug with an IQ as low as his would probably be even more dangerous and unpredictable than a more experienced criminal. "Now you see why I favor gun control," Robin sighed. Her arms felt tense and strained from holding her weapon, but she did not let the nose dip.
"Did I hear you say you were a Law Enforcement Officer?" Tess asked, sounding hurt.
"Long story. I'll fill you in later. Don't suppose you have some jumper cables handy?"
A few minutes later, their wounded troublemaker was secured with jumper cables pulled from the wreckage of Tess's car and sitting with Robin and Tess as the police arrived, sirens blaring. The officers called to the scene exited their squad cars, guns drawn, and Robin lowered her weapon, tucking it back in its holster. "Sorry, guys. You already missed the party." There were four of them in total, but only two in uniform, and one was a rookie with the remains of what looked like powdered donut on his shirt. The two plainclothes officers seemed more amused than their colleagues.
"Ah, a familiar face. We've been looking for you over in Vice, Benny," said one of the cops, nodding at the bound man. Ignoring the glares shot his way by the temporary prisoner, he turned to Robin. "Wanna tell us your name and what's going on here?"
"Robin Hart, FBI," she said, extending one hand for a handshake and reaching for her badge with the other. Seeing the frown on the second plainclothes cop's face, she hastened to reassure him. "Don't worry, he's your collar. My friend and I were minding our own business when he rear-ended us. He refused to give us insurance information, we mentioned calling you guys, and he freaked and tried to draw a weapon. I whacked him in the nose, held a gun on him while my friend called it in, and tied him up because he kept trying to crawl away. Persistent bastard."
"Fuck you, bitch!"
"Christ, can't you come up with any new insults? It's all 'fuck you' this and 'bitch' that. Would it kill you to be creative?" As Robin examined the man again, she decided that it just might.
"Fu –"
"Shut up," said the first officer, a tall guy with blonde hair and a mustache. "Has he been Mirandized?" he asked Robin.
"Nah. I figured I'd let you have at least some of the fun since I got to restrain him and all."
"Oh goodie." The second cop, an older guy with glasses and a balding head of hair, hauled the unfortunate Benny to his feet, not bothering to be gentle. "You've just given us the perfect opportunity to question him about some other incidents he's been involved in. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say –"
"Hey, I ran the plate number," one of the uniforms called out from the open door of his vehicle. "Reported stolen three days ago."
"Well," Tess groaned, "that would probably explain why he didn't want to give us his insurance information." Her night had gone from wonderful to annoying to frightening in a matter of minutes. She was still trying to make sense of the fact that Nina Stryswicki was not who she said she was. The reporter – no, the FBI agent, she reminded herself – had been lying all along. Still overwhelmed by everything that had happened, Tess felt a flare of anger towards her protector.
"Why did you lie to me?" she asked, temporarily forgetting about the dangerous situation that they had just escaped. "Nina – Robin – whatever your name is..."
The agent sighed. "Robin. Listen, I never meant to –"
"Sorry, ladies," said the blonde officer, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder and watching his partner escort the reluctant Benny into the back of a squad car out of the corner of his eye. "We'll need you to come down to the precinct with us and record your statements. I promise it won't take that long."
Robin sighed for a second time, not looking forward to the questions even though she suspected that they would be brief. The police were probably much more interested in whatever they wanted Benny for. "Tess, we can talk about this later. Right now we need to go with them."
Giving Nina – Robin – her iciest glare, Tess turned her back on the other woman and clicked over to one of the other police cars in her heels, clutching her purse more tightly than necessary. It was only when she was in the back of the car, alone and fuming, that she realized how close both of them had come to being seriously hurt. Her breath caught and her blue eyes grew larger.
Robin might have saved her life.
For a moment, Tess imagined what could have happened if she had been alone in her car when Benny rear-ended her. She would have stepped out to request insurance information, and might have gotten mouthy, not knowing he had a gun... Then, she realized three other things, all of which made her even more upset and uncomfortable. The first was that this little incident would probably end up in the news, and she needed to call Brian to make sure that the story did not get out of control. The second was that she also needed to call her parents. The third was that Robin's 'hero' act had actually aroused her. A little crazy and stupid, but there it was. If she hadn't been secretly attracted to her before, she certainly was no
w.
"Damn it, my life is so messed up..."
Chapter 15
Cincinnati, Ohio: October 8th
Tess sighed and glanced nervously at the camera in the corner of the interrogation room. Even though she wasn't in any trouble with the police, this mess was certainly going to cause a lot of trouble for her. "This isn't being recorded, right?" she asked. "And I'm just giving a written statement?"
The mustached detective nodded, pulling out a few sheets of loose paper and a pen. He slid them across the table at her. "Yep, just a statement. We need to cover all our bases."
Feeling slightly guilty for snapping at him, Tess gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I just don't want this to end up on the evening news. The next thing I know, I'll be the leader of a drug running operation or something... you know how it is in politics." Of course, nobody really knew what being a politician was like except for other politicians – and perhaps lobbyists – but everybody thought they did, and everybody had an opinion about them.
"Yeah."
The officer opened an outdated 'People' and flipped through the pages, only pausing to answer Tess's question. "Should I write Robin Hart or use the name Nina Stryswicki?" she asked.
"Robin Hart," he clarified. "We'll add a note in the file. It isn't that important in the grand scheme of things."
I beg to differ, Tess couldn't help thinking. She still wanted an explanation. After everything that had happened, it was the least Robin owed her. "What do you need this guy for?" Tess said instead. She knew that the police didn't have to give her any information at all, but she couldn't resist asking.
"Nothing related to you. The illegal weapons charge and threatening a Law Enforcement Officer are just icing on the cake."
Tess rolled her eyes at the detective's quaint metaphor, but knew better than to say anything. "So, he wasn't deliberately trying to hurt me or Ni - er, Robin?" She corrected herself at the last minute.
"No, don't worry. You're not a target."
Even though she was angry at the FBI agent for lying to her, Tess was relieved that no one was trying to kill Robin, maybe because she wanted the chance to kill the woman herself.
* * *
"We aren't here to close your drug case, I promise," Robin said. She gave the balding detective a toothy, predatory smile. Trust me, if I wanted to take over your case, your asses would already have footprints on them from your Captain's shoe.
"Just tell me what you're doing here and I'll be satisfied. I don't need names or specifics."
Robin arched an eyebrow, causing the officer to frown at her. He really had no business asking about her assignment, but she decided to throw him a bone. "Drugs can stay with you guys and the DEA. I work in a... government-associated department."
"Counterterrorism?"
Robin felt a wave of nostalgia for her previous job with the FBI, but suppressed it. "Yeah, once upon a time, but not anymore. I swear I'm miles away from whatever you're investigating. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"More like the right place at the right time." The bald officer seemed much friendlier now that he knew his case was safe from Federal harassment. "Hey, how pissed are you at this weasel? We might offer him a pass on the weapons and assault charges if he flips on his boss. The drug charges will keep him off the street for a while on their own."
Robin shrugged noncommittally. "Don't care. Do your jobs."
"It was pretty badass the way you collared him, though."
"Call me Jane Bond. I'll leave you my contact information, including the fly schedule for my private jet and the phone built in to my Aston Martin replica," she drawled. That coaxed a laugh from the surly detective. "No, seriously, I'll give you my number just in case you run into problems, but I'd appreciate it if you don't blow my cover. It's temporary and not deep at all, or I wouldn't have identified myself, but I would like to squeeze a few more miles out of it."
"No problem. If we drop the charges as part of the deal, you won't have to give sworn testimony anyway."
Robin got out of her chair, gripping the back. She leaned forwards over the table as she pushed the chair back in. "So, you still need me for anything? I've got an important apology to make."
The detective waved her away. "The blonde? Good luck. She looked pretty pissed to me. Isn't she the Senator's daughter? The one running for office? I think I saw her on TV." A surprised look crossed his face. "You're not investigating her, are you?"
Robin shook her head. "Her? Nah. I just think she's cute."
He snorted. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, don't you? She's not gay or anything, but if a pretty girl wants to spend a few hours with me, I'm not going to say no, even if it means discussing politics."
"Well, I gotta say, Agent Hart, you're the most laid-back FBI agent I've ever had the pleasure of meeting... and with you guys, it's usually displeasure, no offense."
"None taken. No one knows more about how stupid fellow FBI agents can be than an FBI agent. Oh, the stories I could tell..." Casually adjusting the waistband of her slacks, she grabbed her coat and shrugged back into the sleeves. "You need me, call. No offense, but I'm hoping you don't. I've got my own mess to sort out. Glad I could help you with yours, though."
"You mean your job, or the angry blonde waiting for you outside?"
Robin groaned. "Both. And I'm not assuming that she's waiting for me. Even though she's straight and doesn't know it, I was kind of pretending we were on a date." Robin was surprised at how forthcoming she was being with information today, but decided it couldn't really do any harm. Her sexuality and her strange outing with Tess were not really tied to her investigation anyway. It was a little like sitting next to someone on an airplane – someone in a new city, disconnected, that you could speak to candidly since you would probably never see them again.
"Hey, you never know. Did you pay for dinner?"
The agent looked appropriately affronted. "We didn't get that far, but I was going to. I was the one interviewing her, after all. Remember, I'm a reporter." She winked.
"Sure, sure. Get out of here. Maybe you can catch her in time."
Needing no more encouragement, Robin swept out of the door and down the hall, passing several bewildered people crouched over desks and huddled around a coffeemaker. A few were speaking into phones and trying to ignore the noise around them. Poor public servants of the state, Robin thought. The FBI had budget problems, too, but they had more wiggle room than city police departments by a large margin.
As she approached the open waiting room near the front of the station, she saw Tess staring intently at the contents of a file folder, wisps of hair escaping her twist as she reached up to adjust her glasses. Robin found the sight completely adorable, but decided that sneaking up on Tess while she was working was not a good idea if she wanted to make a peace offering. She coughed to alert the smaller woman to her presence. With an exaggerated sigh, Tess closed her folder and looked up. There was no sympathy in those cold blue eyes.
"You're arranging for my transportation home," she said crisply. "My car, as you know, was totaled during the... incident. I'm just glad that I have insurance, because I'm sure that our friend Benjamin does not."
"Shouldn't you call your campaign manager?" Robin asked. She was willing to pay for a cab, but for some reason, the politician brought out the obstinate side in her. It wasn't her fault a criminal had rear-ended them at the red light. Tess had a right to be a little upset about her false identity, but surely she didn't hold her responsible for the accident as well?
Tess groaned, slumping down in her chair. For once, her posture was defeated instead of ramrod straight. "Ugh, no. I want to talk to him even less than I want to talk to you. Will you just take me home?"
"I don't have a car here, either, but I can call a cab company. I'll pay for it."
Tess sighed again, tucking her files under her arm. "So, do you want to explain why you gave me a fake identity? Are you investigating me for something?"
Robin looked genuinely surprised, and Tess regretted the bitter words. "No, I'm not. Honestly..." She decided that, from this moment on, she was going to be truthful with Tess as long as it did not involve her job. "Honestly, I just thought you were interesting and wanted to see you again, even if I wasn't a real reporter. I had fun at the bakery, the interview, and again at dinner."
"I don't swing that way –"
"– I never said you did. Hey, I never said I did."
Tess rolled her eyes. Robin was a little like Calamity Jane and a female version of James Dean all rolled in to one, and the cute butch haircut and leather jacket were a dead giveaway. "Uh-huh... Yeah, right. As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, I don't swing that way, but I don't have a problem with people who do. Just don't tell on me to the Republican National Committee, please. They'd lynch me."
Robin laughed. Maybe Tess would forgive her after all.
"So, Agent Hart," she said, standing up from her seat and re-buttoning her own jacket, "why don't you play chauffeur and arrange for a cab? I don't suppose you want to tell me why you're running around as a pretend reporter at political debates while we wait?"
"Sorry, that information is classified," Robin said in her best Bureau monotone. The effect was startling, even without the stereotypical black pantsuit. Breaking out of character, she asked, "Do you know the number of the cab company?"
"All sixes."
"Yuck, unlucky. So, hypothetically, let's say a repentant FBI agent wanted to apologize for lying to a certain blonde, glasses-wearing politician. Do you have any suggestions for how to go about doing that without coming across as..." her voice trailed off.
Tess gave her a reassuring smile. "Creepy?" For some reason, as much as Robin brought out her stubborn streak, she couldn't seem to stay mad at her for long. "Bringing her Thai for lunch sometime this week might be a smart move. Hypothetically, of course. God, I can never eat at lunch meetings or fundraisers. I have to keep my mouth open so Brian can put words in it."
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