Sebastian confirmed my statements with a stiff dip of his chin. “We think he’s planning something. The agents on the island are watching for signs of Jimmy’s known associates. We don’t know what he’s up to in Norfolk, but we have him on street cams, and we assume what he’s doing involves me. He might have no idea I’m living here. Whatever plan he’s hatching, I need to make sure he and his people stay far away from here. From you. My team’s strategizing right now. I told them I needed tonight.”
My heart unfurled a tiny bit. “You did?”
He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me near. “Yeah. I did.” Sebastian lowered his lips to my ear. “I don’t want you to worry. I know Jimmy. I worked with him for eight months undercover, remember? He’s an old dog. No new tricks. My team is smart and swift. Jimmy in Norfolk is a good thing. He’s on our turf. Arrogant son of a bitch. The whole frigging bureau is gunning for him, and he came to us. We’re going to get him tomorrow.”
Sebastian had taken out five members of Jimmy’s crime family a few months ago. Jimmy couldn’t have trained a new load of thugs so fast, could he? Whoever he had working for him was new and they weren’t ready for what the bureau had under its shield. Sebastian was fierce. He was a leader and he was a bulldog who didn’t stop coming until the enemy was behind bars. For the first time in months, the weight of Jimmy the Judge lightened on my shoulders. Sebastian could handle this.
“This time tomorrow, the nightmare will be over.” I whispered the words against his chest. When did I grab onto him so tight?
“That’s the plan, boss.”
“What about all the Vegas tips?”
“Bogus. He probably called the tips in to throw us off. I’m embarrassed to say it worked. We were canvassing footage of Vegas street cameras all last week for nothing. Do you have any idea how many cameras are in Vegas? You’d hate it.”
Probably. “When will you be back? Will you call me when you get him?”
Sebastian leaned back. “Yes, but when I get back, we’re making some big changes here.”
I stepped out of his grip, ready to pounce. “I’m sorry, what?” I didn’t need to make any changes.
He took a step forward. The look on his face said “shut up and listen.”
I fought a smile. Goose bumps ran down my arms.
“When I come back, you’re going to the gun range with me twice a week and you’re learning to use a handgun. I want you to get your concealed carry license.”
Nope. I shook my head as he continued his ridiculous set of demands.
“You’re also taking self-defense classes. From me. Not those lame-ass, get-away-and-run-for-help classes they give twice a year at the bureau. You’re taking the shove-his-nose-bone-into-his-brain-and-kill-him-for-touching-you, Sebastian Clark class. These demands are non-negotiable.”
“First of all, ew. Second of all, I don’t believe in violence. Third, everything is negotiable, unless it’s an ultimatum.”
“I don’t believe you’ll ever stay out of harm’s way or keep a promise to let me handle my own investigations, so this is happening.”
A standoff. We stared at one another until my cheeks burned with indignation. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to be the death of me unless I have some thread of hope you can save your life if necessary.”
I mulled that over. “It’s a common opinion that self-defense and weapons training only provide a false sense of security and hinder a woman in the event she needs to use either.”
Sebastian cracked a smile. “That’s the bull criminals want you to believe so they don’t have to work so hard.”
Mom honked the air horn at gulls swarming over the open grill, and I squeaked. Very brave of me. Sebastian shook his head. Dad hoisted trays of food off the grates and ran for the house, while birds dove and circled overhead and Mom laid on the horn.
I jumped inside after Dad and took a seat at the table.
Mom looked at Sebastian and me as she piled shrimp, scallops and steamed veggies on our plates. “Something wrong?”
I lifted my fork. “Sebastian gave me an ultimatum.”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched. The little vein in his neck pulsated. “I gave her an order.”
“Oh, that’s so much better,” I scoffed. “Do you hear this guy?”
Mom leaned across the table. “Did she tell you about her new cell phone?” She whispered the last two words.
Sebastian looked at me. I shook my head.
Dad shoveled scallops into his mouth. “What’re the demands?”
“Dad! Not the point. He can’t make demands.”
Dad shrugged. “Depends on the demands. Maybe you were going to do those things anyway. Then you aren’t obeying. You’re living your life and he’s blowing his horn.”
I liked that. Maybe I’d planned to get my concealed carry license. It didn’t mean I had to carry a gun. It only meant I could if I wanted to. I believed in exercising my freedoms.
Sebastian watched me during dinner. My parents watched him. I prayed for invisibility.
Mom and I cleared the table after dinner, and she put on a pot of coffee to go with the baked apple pie Melinda had sent over. I stepped onto the deck while the coffee brewed and dialed Melinda’s number.
Melinda answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” Children argued and squealed in the background.
“Hey, it’s Patience. I’m at my mom’s and I wanted to thank you for the pie.”
“Oh, did you try it? Is it good?”
“Not yet. Mom’s making coffee first.”
Melinda didn’t speak for a long beat. “Coffee at nine? No wonder you don’t sleep well.”
The swig of beer and half a Mai Tai should cancel the coffee out, but I didn’t mention it. “Hey, I’ve meant to call you for a few days. I got a delivery from Half Baked. Was it from you?”
“No. Just the pie. Why? Was it bad? Oh my goodness. Please tell me their quality is good enough to substitute for ours. All our customers are getting stuff from them this week to help fill our orders.”
The door behind me slid open, and Sebastian approached with a tray. He had two cups of coffee and two pieces of pie.
“Everything’s delicious. Sebastian’s here with my pie. I’ve gotta go.” I disconnected and set my phone on the table. The evil-cupcake situation worried me. So did the look on Sebastian’s face.
“Are we okay?” He pulled out a chair for me.
“Yeah.” I dared a glance his way. Though I hoped for the best, he was facing off with a killer tomorrow, and I shouldn’t rock the boat.
Words loaded my tongue. A few popped loose. “I’m never carrying a gun.” There. It had to be said. Boat rocked.
“I figured.”
I shifted in my chair for a better look at him. “You did?”
He blew out a long breath and cocked a grin.
My shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t bossing me around, and he knew me well enough not to expect me to change for him. Smart man. A little smile formed. “I haven’t decided about the nose-pushing self-defense class yet. I like the get-free-and-run method the bureau teaches.”
“Fair enough. We’ll start small. Aim to immobilize the attacker without killing him.” He reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers. “There’s something else I want to talk with you about.”
Jeez Louise. First he told me they found Jimmy the Judge and he’s leaving in the morning. Then he demanded I carry a gun and kill with my bare hands. I shuddered at the thought of what came next.
Sebastian sat beside me at the table and tapped his pie with a fork. “I saw the look on Adrian’s face the other night when he said you didn’t want kids, and I heard you and Claire talking about the same thing.”
I studied the moon over the ocea
n. Where was the rest of my Mai Tai when I needed it? “And?”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” He pushed a forkful of apple pie between his lips.
I’d asked him the same question at his FBI interview a few years back. I gave him the same answer he gave me back then. “Here.”
He smiled. That word had got him the job. Would it get me off the hook?
I cleared my throat. “Maybe we could talk more about incapacitating villains.”
“Not yet. When you say ‘here,’ do you mean in your apartment? In a house? Alone? With a family?” He laced his fingers together at the back of his head and waited.
“I don’t know.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, unsure what to say or how to react. I couldn’t read him. What answer did he want or expect? Did it matter?
He dropped his forearms onto the table and adjusted his position, leaning toward me, intimidating me. “You don’t know or you don’t want to say? If it’s the latter, then why not? Are you unsure, indifferent or ashamed of the answer?”
I pulled my feet into the chair with me and wrapped my arms around my knees, no longer interested in pie or coffee. No one lied to Sebastian, not successfully anyway. It was his job to know people. I let out a breath. “I’m not great at being vulnerable. Telling people personal things gives them power over me. I know it sounds dumb.”
“It doesn’t sound dumb.” His words nearly overlapped mine, as if he’d anticipated my response.
I laid my cheek against my knees. “What about you? Big white house, little picket fence, two point three minions running around?”
Sebastian didn’t move a muscle. For a moment, I worried I’d offended him somehow, though the words were harmless enough. Cool night winds blew hair across my face. I tucked the strands behind my ears and waited. I couldn’t have been the first to ask him those questions in one form or another. People had asked me on a regular basis since puberty if I wanted children, how many, if I’d marry, where we’d live, etc.
“If I get Jimmy tomorrow, I might retire.”
I blinked. What? “You’re thirty-five. You can’t retire.”
He raised his eyebrows and stared into my eyes, daring me to say he couldn’t again.
“I was thinking more along the lines of leaving the bureau for a new career. Something with better odds of coming home at the end of the day.”
Leaving the bureau? He lived for the chase. Didn’t he? My mind scrambled and flailed. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Open a dojo. Maybe teach self-defense.” He smiled the crooked almost-smile I loved. “I hear the position of sheriff is coming available soon, too.”
My heart fluttered. “Fargas’s position? You’d be happy as a small-town sheriff? Nothing ever happens here.”
He snorted.
“Nothing used to happen here.”
“I think I could manage.” The seriousness in his tone implied dozens of things I couldn’t say out loud for fear words would ruin them. He wanted to be safe. Why? Was he planning a family to come home to at night? He’d avoided my question about minions. Part of me worried for America if he quit his job at the bureau. Special Agent Sebastian Clark stopped more crime and serial killers per year than any other agent. He had more recognition, awards and articles than I could count. In fact, I’d started a new file just for accolades when his personnel file maxed capacity.
I cleared my throat. “If I changed jobs, I’d work with teens. I always thought the island needed better prep programs for high schoolers. I never considered college until Adrian left for Miami. I wasn’t alone. Most families here don’t teach kids options. The men here are fishermen. Boys grow up expecting to follow in their father’s footsteps. Girls expect to marry their high school sweetheart, buy a house and have kids. It’d be great to reach out to juniors and seniors and tell them there’s a big world out there. My favorite part of human resources was recruiting. I went to colleges and spoke with graduates. I told them about the infinite options available to them. Kids can leave Chincoteague and do anything they choose. Then, when they’re ready, the island will be here for them to come home.” It took me ten years to figure it out, and I wanted to share.
“Where do you stand on minions?” he asked.
“You really shouldn’t stand on minions.”
He groaned. “Patience.”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’d ruin them. I’d probably turn my offspring into neurotic, distrusting, danger magnets.”
He nodded.
“Wow. You don’t have to agree with me.”
Sebastian lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my fingertips. “Well, if that happens, you can always send them to my dojo.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s not a no on kids for you then?”
“No.” I whispered. “Not a no, just a lot of worry.”
Sebastian leaned across the space between us and pressed gentle lips to mine. “I think that goes with the job description.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sebastian left for Norfolk before dawn, and I faced the longest day of my life. I’d worried for his safety all night and made plans to continue the process until he called to say Jimmy the Judge was in custody. Until then, any horrible thing was possible and my imagination was in full swing creating awful scenarios. As a bonus ulcer, Halloween arrived right on schedule. Three hundred sixty-four other days to face off with Jimmy the Judge, but today was the day. Halloween made all the most sinister ideas seem possible.
I shivered and stuck my empty mug under the Keurig for round four. Shadows climbed the walls around my windows and door. Thanks to the mayor and The Watchers, Halloween had taken on an anything-is-possible Hollywood feel. Ghost hunters wandered the island at all hours, dressed in black and toting night vision goggles. People continued to flow over the mainland bridge into our little town, amping up tension and reducing breathing room. Fortunately, like the stress with Sebastian, The Watchers drama would be over in twenty-four hours. The countdown was on. Today was a big day.
The bathroom door opened and Claire stretched in the hallway. My tiny apartment filled with a burst of steamy air scented with shampoo and hair products. She approached me with an over-the-top smile. “It’s Halloween.”
“Yep.” I sipped my fresh coffee and glanced at the clock. If all went as planned, tomorrow would be the start of a peaceful existence.
Claire fluffed her bangs. “Have you chosen your costume yet?”
“I’m not going to The Watchers’ party. I know you love that show, but I plan to party on the couch, eating cheese doodles and counting the hours until they leave town.”
She snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Sebastian will be okay.” She patted my shoulder.
My throated tightened. I refused to give in to my imagination. He was fine.
I motioned to her little cream-and-lavender dress. “What? No running today?”
“Not today. Today I’m helping at the Purple Pony. Just. Like. You.” She touched the tip of my nose and I swatted her away.
My parents had talked me into helping while we ate dessert on their deck last night. They expected a crowd. Claire was more than happy to assist. She got to paint faces. I had to read palms. Mom insisted I’d keep my mind off things better if I stayed busy. What better way to pass my time than by telling a line of impatient tourists they had good fortune in their future? Only twenty-five bucks a pop. Come on down.
“Here.” Claire shoved her hand across the counter toward me. “Brush up on your skills. What does my palm say about me?”
I rolled my eyes and played along, rubbing my thumbs over the creases and lines of her palm. “Ahh, I can tell you use a high quality moisturizer, have a desk job and spend enough on manicures to feed a third world country.”
“Ha-ha.” She flipped her hand in mine. “Do your
thing.”
A buzz of electricity zipped through my wrist and a flash of terror sent my heart into a tailspin. I jerked my hand free.
“Hey!” She shook her hand out at the wrist and frowned at me. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to...” I inhaled long and slow. Exhaling the same way, I forced a smile. “I’m being ridiculous.”
She lifted one perfect eyebrow.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I’m going to get changed and we’re going to show some tourists the time of their lives.” A shuddered breath rocked past my lips.
“Attagirl.”
I moved to my bedroom with purpose. I don’t have psychic powers. Psychic powers aren’t real. I experienced a jolt of fear because I’m afraid. My imagination is out of control. I ran the statements on a mental loop while I dressed. Then I rejoined Claire in the living room.
Time to go to work.
* * *
We arrived at my parent’s shop on the heels of the sun. Bright orange light illuminated the harbor and everything on Main Street. Sunrises in the fall were the best. The brilliant crimson and gold rays cast a magical filter over the rainbow of autumn-dressed trees near the water. Fallen leaves still damp with morning dew painted sidewalks in various shapes and colors.
Claire slowed her steps several feet away from the shop door and faced the harbor. “This looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except for the hobos.”
I nodded. Fans. Hobos. Potato, potahto. Brightly colored tents polka dotted the sidewalks, housing ghost hunters and The Watchers fans who’d arrived too late to find housing or space in the parks for their tents. Frankie spent her nights as deputy sheriff shooing vagrants off lawns and private property. Apparently she’d given up on clearing the sidewalks.
I crossed the street when I spotted the Baby Cakes truck and ordered a short stack of blueberry pancakes for distraction and inspiration. Claire ordered a fruit and yogurt parfait with a side of granola. Her breakfast inspired me to order whipped cream on my pancakes.
Murder in Real Time Page 23