Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Did he notice the slight swell of McKenna’s abdomen? That glow she had? Or Jordan’s silly grin, tucked almost out of sight. As if he were absurdly pleased with himself.

  The items McKenna had purchased at the store popped into her mind. Sprite and crackers. Should have known. Except, her friend hadn’t had a speck of morning sickness with Riley.

  “Since when do you drink Vodka tonic?”

  Her best friend’s lips stilled over her straw. “Hmm?” Her eyes filled with innocence.

  “It’s not alcohol, is it?” Robinson shifted forward and stole the other woman’s glass before she could protest. Sipped the contents. “Nope. You on some kind of new kick, Moore?”

  “Try pregnant, Robbie.”

  A hesitant smile lit Jordan’s face. And then he shot a glance at his wife. “Told you she’d figure it out.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wasn’t like you were dying to hide the information, Mr. I-got-the-goods-to-knock-up-my-woman.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Those words never came out of my mouth.”

  “Congratulations.” Robinson’s eyebrows rose on his forehead and a small smile replaced his frown. His posture relaxed a tad. “I’m so happy for you guys.” He hugged both of his agents, then returned to Amanda’s side.

  Handed back the half empty beverage. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.

  Had he known she couldn’t finish it? Probably. He was always doing things like that. Subtle, but meaningful.

  “Not everyone knows yet, so keep it quiet,” McKenna said. “We’re only twelve weeks along.”

  “So, I shouldn’t blast it throughout the building Monday morning?” Robinson folded his arm across his chest.

  Amanda bit back a snicker. He usually made good on his promises, too. To be a fly on the wall...

  McKenna’s eyes turned to small slits. “Don’t even think about it, Robinson. Payback is well, you know.”

  He laughed.

  Amanda shifted, her arm coming into contact with Robinson, again. Their eyes met in a fleeting glance, which sent sparks straight to her stomach.

  Yup. Should have gone home. Given her heart a chance to recover from their morning before tangoing with the Robinson magnet again.

  Agent Saragosa headed toward them, sans a partner. He bumped into a couple on the dance floor. Righted himself and continued forward.

  “Tough crowd, tonight.” He wrapped an arm around Jordan’s neck. They stumbled forward a step. Green eyes roved over them all, in a circular motion, as if the Agent’s world were spinning in his skull. The liquid in his glass sloshed near the edge. “I love you, man.” He pointed the cup in Jordan’s direction, a splash of alcohol careening to the floor.

  “Please, tell me someone is driving him home.” Amanda stifled a laugh.

  “Yeah,” Saragosa slurred. His gaze lit on McKenna. “Moore can drive me home and—”

  “Think again, buddy.” Jordan removed the arm from around his neck.

  The other man pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair enough. There’s more than enough meat around here.”

  ___

  ROBINSON SHOULD HAVE gone home. Or stayed at the office.

  Somewhere other than standing next to Amanda and watching an inebriated Saragosa stagger toward them. The agent’s eyes lingered on the stylish jacket the woman, next to Robinson, had thrown over her lacy top this morning. It accentuated her curves in a tasteful way. And Saragosa’s eyes roamed over it as if he had double X-ray vision.

  Robinson blew a breath through his clenched teeth. Willed the swirling pit of revulsion, in his stomach, to stop. During their engagement, neither had been prone to bouts of extreme jealousy, possession or anything resembling either. He didn’t plan to start now, even though something similar gurgled to the top.

  The guy was drunk. No need to make a big deal out of it. And with the way Saragosa wavered on his feet, he might pass out at any second. Saving them all a lot of trouble.

  “Detective, you’ll drive me home, right?” A leering grin covered the other man’s face. Each sluggish step brought him closer.

  Or not.

  Relax, buddy.

  He and Amanda had enough to talk about without adding a solid punch to Saragosa’s straight, white teeth to the list.

  Bar fights with his agents weren’t his style. Not that he wouldn’t be willing to change things up if the other man crossed the line. Given the way he eyed her with more than appreciation, it seemed imminent.

  “Try a taxi.” She crossed her arms. A gleam appeared in her scotch orbs. “You can grope yourself and throw up in a vehicle you’ll never see again. Win-win.”

  Miss Sass was out in full force. Thank God.

  Robinson’s muscles released a fraction. And he managed a slow breath filled with the exotic, flowery scent of Amanda.

  Saragosa’s gaze centered on him, a little startled. “Oh, hey, boss-man.” A hiccup escaped his mouth. He blinked in slow motion. “Didn’t see you there. Didn’t mean to tread on your territory.” He waved in their general direction. “You had a fair shot. Now, it’s someone else’s turn, right?”

  Damn it. Every muscle tightened again. He didn’t even try to listen to the voices in his skull telling him to shrug this off. Ire burst through his veins and burrowed down deep. “She’s not a bicycle you can take a spin on, Saragosa.”

  He clenched his jaw. For the love of Pete. Really? He’d likened Amanda to a two-wheeled contraption a toddler could manage.

  You’re a winner, tonight.

  Amanda didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe. He couldn’t blame her. The Jerk was trying to outdo Miss Sass with promise to leave dignity to a smarter man. That man said whatever he wanted without thought. Without care for consequences.

  And for a long time, Robinson had worked really hard to get rid of him. Until Amanda. Until she’d embraced everything he was. Even things other people couldn’t stomach or didn’t understand.

  With her, he was himself in a way he’d never been before. And The Jerk was a cute side character in the show. One everybody loved as long as he didn’t take over.

  “Oh, come on, boss-man.” He stumbled, but righted himself before going down. “We’re all adults, here. The detective knows how to have a good time.”

  Robinson couldn’t stop his body from going ramrod straight. “You wanna think about that statement, and its implications, a little?”

  As if the words made no sense, a dumbfounded grin covered Saragosa’s face.

  Jordan shot Robinson a look and gave one shake of his head. Then centered his attention on the drunken excuse for a man, beside him. “Okay, buddy.” He clapped the other man on the back. Hauled him forward and toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Luckily, Saragosa was too inebriated to protest.

  Robinson blew out a breath. Amanda still hadn’t moved. Guilt swamped over him and rose like an unexpected storm surge. “A.J.”

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Robinson.” Her voice was flat and low. “He’s drunk. Probably won’t remember it in the morning.”

  In the last year-and-a-half she’d asked him for that particular favor a handful of times. And now, twice in the same day. And only when bigger emotions hid beneath the surface. When it really mattered. Sometimes, levity worked well. Tonight...

  Tonight, he wanted to have a normal conversation with the woman next to him. No pressure. No ghost of the past hanging over them.

  A regular I-miss-my-best-friend sort of talk.

  Agent Max joined their group, a redhead under one arm, his sobriety in check. He said something to McKenna, which Robinson didn’t comprehend. The expression on Amanda’s face mirrored the desire he had to stay here and pretend everything was fine.

  Was she rehashing Saragosa’s comments, Robinson’s insensitive words or something else from the day? Could she shrug off this encounter as well as she did anything else?

  “Wanna get out of here?” He whispered near her ear.

  She licked her lips. Pretende
d to watch the interchange. Then she flicked him a sidelong glance. “What? You want your turn on the bicycle?”

  “You know me better than that.” He’d need a lifetime. And a padlock with his initials carved into it. Maybe not a padlock. A tattoo. Something permanent, but not confining.

  She folded her arms across her chest, a still half-full beer in one hand. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “Would you have avoided coming if you’d known I might show up?”

  “Yesterday?” She paused. Locked eyes with him. “Maybe.”

  He’d always admired her honesty. “And today?”

  “I’m here, right?” A teasing glint filled her eyes.

  A burst of air left his lungs. “Can I be excused from bad behavior and poor word choices? Considering my day, I think it’s only fair.”

  “Excuse granted.”

  Her quick and honest forgiveness freed something heavy in his chest, leaving an ache behind. Erasing it meant getting her to open up to him, again, an event that wasn’t entirely in his hands.

  “So, this escape you mentioned.”

  “That’s not what I said, A.J.”

  Amber eyes rolled heavenward. “Logistics.”

  “We could forget I asked. You look like you’re having a blast.” He tucked his tongue in his cheek.

  As if considering his words, she glanced at McKenna, who was still in conversation with Max and his current date. “Am I the worst friend ever if I say yes?”

  Hope sprung in his chest. And, if they weren’t surrounded by dozens of people, he might have given a nerdy fist pump. “Not the worst. Close to the top. Right under me.”

  A smile lit her face. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”

  Was it that easy? All this time he’d been picking out the perfect words when he’d needed only himself. “Do we just duck out?”

  “Now, I see why you top the list. There’s a way to handle these things.” Amanda moved toward her friend. Wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we’re gonna take off.”

  “We?” McKenna’s gaze flicked to him. As if she’d orchestrated the entire night, she tucked a smile out of sight. Maybe she had.

  Amanda wasn’t wrong about giving that one ideas. Right now, any she employed were working in his favor, so he couldn’t complain.

  “I’m excited for you guys.” Amanda pulled back. “See you later, okay?”

  “Sure.” McKenna nodded as if the idea had been hers.

  Had he announced they were leaving, there would have been questions. Followed by a don’t-screw-this-up speech. He probably needed it. Along with a step-by-step organizer filled with do’s and don’ts for getting life back on track with a certain detective.

  Amanda left the group and made it back to his side, but didn’t stop. “Move, Robbie. Before she gets bossy and tries to meddle.”

  Right. He gave them a wave and followed her outside of the bar. A bit of humidity still hung in the air, but it wasn’t as bad as full-fledged summer temps.

  Jordan guided Saragosa into a taxi, closed the door and turned. The vehicle pulled away from the curb. “Are you leaving?”

  “It’s been a long day,” he said.

  Jordan nodded. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s hammered.”

  “No worries, man.”

  Jordan shook his head as if he wouldn’t believe a word Robinson said right now. “I checked in with Gates a few minutes ago. Lilly, Ariana and Riley are all fine. Both the girls fell asleep on the couch watching The Little Mermaid. Lilly’s reading.” Jordan pulled out his phone, pressed a few buttons and handed it over.

  A shot of the Bening living room was in view. Riley was curled in a ball on one corner of the couch, a cute, pink blanket in her clutches.

  Ariana slept in the opposite corner, her head in Lilly’s lap and sling still in place. A blanket was more on the floor than his niece. One of Lilly’s hands rested on her daughter’s head, a book balancing on the arm of the couch. The lamp cast a glow over her. Concentration covered her brow.

  Amanda leaned near him to get a better view. A hint of wild flowers drifted over him. “When’s the last time she did anything besides stare into space?”

  Before today, it had been a while. And he’d tried hard to change it. Didn’t know what else he could do to convince his sister she needed to pick up the pieces of her life and live.

  He shook his head. Didn’t want to think about it. Not with Amanda standing so close, her scent both teasing and calming. The feather-light touch of her arm against his shot all sorts of ideas into his head.

  On the monitor, Lilly flipped a page, adjusted a notepad and pen. Scribbled something on the yellow surface.

  “She’s reading a medical journal about comas?” Amanda glanced at him then. As if she realized how close they stood, she moved a few inches away. “For herself or...”

  Jonas. Why the sudden interest? “How long do you figure we have before the press gets wind of a bigger story with our SBI agent?”

  Jordan crossed his arms. “Hard to say. I’m sure one or two nurses went home and told their husbands or wives about it. The guy lost a kidney. Has his jaw wired shut. Two bruised ribs, a broken arm and one sprained ankle. Probably won’t ever take his shirt off again. When he wakes up, he’s gonna hurt worse than ever before.”

  All because of the savage beating he’d taken prior to Ariana’s presence on scene and after. He’d fended off men, in a weakened state, so Robinson’s niece had a chance at escape.

  He cleared thickness from his throat. There was no way Robinson would ever be able to repay the man. Even figuring out who’d committed this act would only touch the tip of the iceberg.

  Jonas would be lucky to make it through the night, but Jordan wouldn’t ever say that. He’d been a glass-half-full guy most of his life. More so in the last few years.

  The truth was the same no matter how Robinson looked at it. Jonas wouldn’t survive a second attack. And they couldn’t afford to wait around for evil to wallop them all across the face.

  As if she knew his thoughts, Amanda shook her head. “We don’t know why this happened. Director Stotts isn’t going to approve placement in a safe house and the hours of paperwork that takes. Not without some concrete evidence. You know how he is. He’ll take the meager facts you have and convince everyone it was a random event. An interrupted mugging.”

  Muggers didn’t usually stick around to beat someone senseless after they had what they wanted. Even though it appeared as if nothing of value had been taken, didn’t make it true. Only Jonas knew for sure. “It’s not random. Can I prove it? Not yet, but I will.”

  As if she had horrible news, she locked eyes with him and opened her mouth.

  “Hey, guys. Look who I found.” McKenna stepped up to them, the smile on her face a little off. Behind her, a tall man with dark hair and eyes grinned. The maroon polo shirt, he wore, was tucked into a dark pair of jeans, the top button undone. The street light glinted off the silver watch on his left hand.

  He looked semi-familiar.

  Robinson had noticed him sitting at the bar with a group of friends who were nowhere in sight now. The other man had thrown a few glances in their direction, during the short time Robinson had been inside. Not at any one of them in particular. And nothing that had raised any red flags.

  “Long time, no see.” As if they’d been friends who’d lost touch, his voice held a hint of good-natured amusement.

  “Hi, Sam.” Jordan didn’t extend a hand or offer a smile. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

  Huh.

  “Sam.” Amanda said, in that careful way she reserved for people she didn’t like or trust.

  Definitely missing something, here. Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. Stood straight and didn’t look at all rattled by this man’s appearance. Not like the irritation sliding over McKenna’s features.

  Unlikeable-Sam ran a hand across his chin. Even in the dim light, Robinson could make out the scrape
s across his knuckles. They were raw and red. Definitely new.

  “You’re a warm bunch. Glad to see the musketeers are alive and well.” The pointer finger on that injured hand waggled toward their group, the rest of his fingers curled inward. As if he were a teacher reprimanding his social studies class. A sly smile caught the corner of his mouth. “Let me guess. You’re all cops.” The last bit came out as if he viewed it as the equivalent of working in the sewer.

  Some days it came close, but Robinson wouldn’t have it any other way. He took pride in knowing he was one part of a large group of men and women protecting America’s freedoms.

  A scoff came from Amanda. “Jordan and McKenna wouldn’t stoop that low.”

  “No?” Sam chuckled. “No more tag-along, Amanda?”

  Tag along? Robinson folded his arms across his chest. Who was this schmuck?

  Amanda’s lips formed a thin line. “Guess we all grow up. What happened to your hand, Sam?”

  He lifted his hand to the light, palm toward them. As if seeing the marks for the first time, he squinted and then shrugged. “Working in the yard. You know how it goes.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t. Wouldn’t you know it, I haven’t hit complete grown up status yet. Ergo, no yard. Maybe you can explain it to me.”

  His attention snapped to her. Perhaps, he hadn’t expected this woman’s sass. Amanda remained silent, seeming content to wait out his answers.

  “Did it become a crime to have a scraped hand, in this country, in the last five minutes?” Sam’s dark gaze flicked to each of them and landed back on Amanda. “Or are you so tired of chasing down drunk drivers and eating donuts you’re willing to make up your own misadventures?”

  McKenna stepped forward, revulsion mixing with stark anger on her face. Jordan snagged her arm and halted her progress.

  Amanda’s posture stiffened the tiniest bit. “Whatever keeps crime off the streets. You should try is sometime. The donuts are fabulous and sometimes those intoxicated drivers share their booze.”

  The corner of Sam’s lip moved upward, part scowl. His gaze scanned her as if trying to determine if she were a poisonous snake. And he wasn’t sure if she’d try for a fatal bite or a mere scarring. “I think I’ll stick to keeping those young minds far from your streets and firmly in my classroom at Hershel Junior High.