by Mara Jacobs
Annabelle set her iPad aside and leaned forward. “Spill, Gracie.”
Grace took a deep breath. “I’ve got a big decision to make about my job. I’ve been asked to join a task force led by Michael Wolfram, the special agent who mentored me in Chicago. I told him I’d give him a decision when I go back to work next week.”
“Michael Wolfram?” Tess’s brow furrowed. “I remember him from when I came to visit you in Chicago.”
“He’s driving down from Washington tonight. He’s my date.”
“Way to go, girl.” Tess looked impressed, and then worried. “He might actually kiss you at midnight.”
Grace pumped a mental fist in the air. No losing for her tonight.
“This sounds like a no-brainer. Is there a problem with joining the task force?” Annabelle asked.
Grace tugged at the ends of her hair. “No. Well, okay. Maybe just a little problem. His name is Leo Ramos. He’s a special agent assigned to my squad in Washington.” She scowled. “We’re good friends.”
“Ah.” Annabelle didn’t have any problem understanding her explanation. “That’s a bitch.”
“And a recurring theme for you,” Tess added.
Grace nodded. “I’m not a girly-girl. Men automatically put me in the friend category.”
Tess gave a short laugh. “Men never automatically put women in the friend category. You put yourself in that category.” She tilted her head, her look assessing. “You don’t have to be a girly-girl to be a hundred percent female.”
Sometimes when Tess spoke with that rhythmic musicality in her tone, Grace expected her to break into a song, in this case, maybe Rodger and Hammerstein’s “I Enjoy Being a Girl,” or Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like a Woman.”
Tess threw another pillow at her, ignoring Annabelle’s huff. “Quit humming, I’m not about to sing. Here’s my advice. Grab him, kiss him blind and he’ll stop thinking of you as a friend. Then have your way with him. If you’re enough of an idiot to let him break your heart, simply listen to Adele––once in the morning before work and once before bed for two weeks. Then you can head off to the new task force, strong and fierce, Ramos forgotten.”
A startled silence settled over the room. Before her marriage, her sister hadn’t been such a cynic. Tess must be having a harder time with the divorce than Grace realized. About to probe more deeply, she caught Annabelle’s quick headshake.
Right. A lot of eyes would be on Tess tonight. They always were, but tonight, in her hometown, at the celebration she’d made the backdrop for her wedding, the focus would be relentless. Tess didn’t need to delve into a discussion on the psychological consequences of her failed marriage hours before stepping onto that stage. Grace would corner her tomorrow for a heart to heart
“Okay, Dr. Tess,” Grace said slowly. “Not a bad plan, except he refuses to become involved with FBI employees.”
Tess shrugged. “That just makes it more of a challenge.”
Annabelle looked confused. “Is this guy going to be here tonight?”
“No, of course not.” Ramos as her date tonight was something she wouldn’t even let herself fantasize about.
“Then forget about him for now and focus on the guy who will be. Did I ever meet Michael?”
“I don’t think so,” Grace said. “You’ll love him, though. He’s probably got almost as many clothes in his closet as you do.”
Annabelle folded her arms across her chest. “Then I hope you’re wearing something appropriate tonight.”
Grace winced. “Actually, I was hoping you might have something I can wear.”
“Grace Elizabeth Devine, are you telling me that you have no idea what you’re wearing and the party is tonight?” Annabelle stood up and marched toward her closet. “I cannot believe we share the same DNA.”
“Mom made the mistake of stepping inside a Wal-Mart while she was pregnant with me. My Niemen Marcus gene was damaged beyond repair.”
Annabelle ignored her and walked into her closet.
“You might want to leave a trail of bread crumbs so you can find your way back out of there,” Grace called.
The rustle of clothes hangers was Annabelle’s only response.
“So you’re thinking of transferring again after only six months in Washington?” Tess asked quietly. “I thought you loved it there.”
“I do. I love the excitement, the feeling that I’m at the hub.” There was always something happening. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “A new joint task force is going after the group responsible for the Isaac Massacres.” Several months ago, a suspected domestic terrorist group in the Idaho wilderness had shocked and horrified the nation when each family in the sect had killed off their eldest child in what was believed to be a twisted loyalty ritual.
“I didn’t sleep for a week after I watched the news coverage. I almost envy you the chance to go after them.” Tess’s beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “Tell me about Ramos.”
Grace hesitated and finally settled for a simple description. “He’s smart, tough, and is an excellent leader because he doesn’t have to constantly prove he’s an alpha male with a bigger dick than the rest of us.”
Annabelle’s voice floated out of the closet. “Do I need to keep reminding you that you don’t have a dick?”
“Trust me, I’ve had to grow that and a pair to go along with it.”
“Good thing I made sure the dress I chose isn’t too short or tight in the crotch area,” Annabelle said as she came to the closet door. She carried an alarmingly big dress bag draped over one arm. Setting the dress bag across a chair, she walked to her dresser and opened a case filled with nail polish bottles.
Grace tucked her toenails under her thighs. “I’m not putting that stuff on my nails.”
Annabelle sighed. “The pair you grew is only metaphorical, right?”
“Girls!” Jody Devine popped her blonde head around the door. “Here you are.” She paused and a warm smile spread over her lovely face. Jody’s sparkling blue eyes, the envy of all three of her brown-eyed daughters, filled with emotion. “Seeing you all together up here reminds me of when you were little. How did you grow up so quickly?” Since it was a frequently asked question, no one attempted to answer. “Tess, there’s a phone call for you on the house phone. Apparently you ignored your cell.” Mom thought it was the height of rudeness not to answer your phone. She still operated on old landline rules in a mobile tech world. She held out the handset. “It’s on hold.”
Tess jumped off the bed. “Thanks, Mom.” She took the phone from her mother and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s probably my publicist. I’ll take this in my room.”
“Tess.” Grace scrambled off the bed and grabbed her sister’s arm, unable to stop from asking one question. “Wait a sec. Are you going to be okay tonight?”
Tess had her stage smile firmly in place. “Of course. I’m fine.”
“Barry is a dickhead. You want me take some of my boys and go rough him up a bit, just because?”
That got a flicker of Tess’s real smile. “That’s Mafia-speak, not FBI.”
“Oh, right. I keep getting those two mixed up. In that case, how about if I let you kiss Lewis tonight. It will make you feel better, trust me.”
Tess actually laughed.
Her mother’s eyes brightened. “Lewis? Tess, I always thought he’d make a good match for you. He’s such a nice boy.”
Both Grace and Annabelle laughed as Tess escaped down the hall.
Chapter 5
David Carter tapped his finger against the forms on his desk, the ones that wrapped up an extortion case on which Leo had taken the lead. His steady brown eyes held a smile. “You did an excellent job as supervisory relief.”
Leo leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t hard. You’ve developed a hell of a squad.” His mind drifted to Devine before he pulled it back.
“The best. But even the sleekest ship takes a steady hand to steer it. You’ve got that.” Carter glanced at
his watch and a harried expression crossed his usually placid features. “I have a full schedule today and my wife is expecting me to pick up the babysitter on my way home. Let’s schedule a meeting for next week and I’ll update you on some phone calls I’ve made. There is a supervisory position open that may be a good fit for you.”
“I’ll have Joan schedule me in on your calendar.” Leo had met with Carter a couple of weeks ago to begin discussions on his next career move.
The phone on Carter’s desk rang and he held up a finger as he picked up the receiver, indicating Leo should wait. “Yes? Put him through, Joan.”
Leo stood and walked over to the window that looked out onto a gray, overcast sky, unsettled and on edge. Grace Devine didn’t belong in any decision making process about career. But honesty forced him to acknowledge that six months ago he’d been ready to approach Carter about this move. His busy schedule wasn’t the only thing that had prevented him from finding the time.
The woman had short-circuited his brain, something he’d been able to deny until that day at the Pit.
His fingers curled into a fist as he remembered the electric shock of her tongue against his skin and the taste of her when he’d retaliated. Some switch in his brain had permanently flipped and a new neural pathway had been forged. He couldn’t think about her without getting hard. Since he couldn’t get her out of his head, he walked around in a perpetual state of semi-arousal, with about as much control over his hormones as a teenage boy. He’d been responding to old fears that night at the Pub when he shut her down cold. He and Devine needed to have a serious discussion.
He turned from the window when he heard Carter hang up the phone.
Carter sighed. “I swear to God, something always comes up on a holiday when you’re rushing to get out.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“That was the Raleigh resident office. Devine is apparently friends with a man the NSA is hot to recruit. The SSA at Raleigh wants her to contact the guy since their boys haven’t had any luck.”
“Who’s the potential recruit?
“A mathematical genius named Kampmueller. The cryptanalysts at Fort Meade are hyperventilating over an algorithm he’s developed for a video game called Code Breaker.”
“Kampmueller developed Code Breaker? Hours of my life have been spent playing it.” Leo might have to kiss the man himself. He loved that game.
“You, my son, and half the world’s male population––not to mention a good portion of the female population, as well. The NSA requested an initial background screen from Raleigh. Then, when they were unable to close a deal with the elusive Kampmueller, they figured the Raleigh agents who did background might have an easier time contacting him. Raleigh hasn’t been any more successful than the NSA. Kampmueller doesn’t pick up phone calls, return messages or keep appointments.” Carter’s phone gave a beep and he grimaced. “Five minutes until my next meeting. Anyway, Raleigh just made the connection between Kampmueller and Devine. Now they’re salivating at the opportunity to dump the NSA request in Devine’s lap. She left last night for her parents’ place in Henderson, North Carolina, right? ”
“I’ll do it,” Leo said abruptly. “I know where Kampmueller is tonight. I’ll find him and arrange a meet with the NSA. If for some reason I can’t, I’ll pull in Devine and use her influence.”
Carter gave him a long look. He didn’t question Leo’s willingness to take on the shit task. He didn’t ask how Leo knew where Kampmueller would be. He simply wrote down the NSA contact information. “Call this person when you’re ready to set up a meeting.”
Leo took the paper and shoved it in his pocket. The gray day suddenly seemed brighter. He stopped at Joan’s desk on his way out, gave the attractive older woman a New Year’s kiss on the cheek, and asked her to put the meeting on Carter’s calendar for next week.
Then he stopped by his desk to pick up his jacket and headed for the elevator. Henderson was about a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Washington. He had time to go home and change before leaving for the party.
The elevator opened and he stepped in. A single occupant filled one of the corners, blond head bent over his phone. “Wolfram.”
The other man looked up and nodded a greeting. “Ramos.”
Leo crossed his arms and took up position in the elevator’s opposite corner. He and Wolfram had been introduced several times and had shared drinks with a joint group of friends once or twice as well. “Enjoying your Quantico holiday?”
Wolfram grimaced. “I feel like I’m back in college. Advanced Psychology and Geographical Topology intermixed with Tactical Strategy. I’m brain dead.”
“I hear you’re pulling together a task force to go after the Isaac Cult.”
“The local office in Salt Lake City is swamped and doesn’t have the time or resources to close this case.” Wolfram’s face was grim. “Pulling this together has been a lesson in bullshit bureaucracy.” He gave Leo a thoughtful look. “I want Grace Devine on the team. She asked permission to discuss it with a few people and she mentioned your name.”
“She told me.” Leo met the man’s straight blue gaze, his own eyes narrowed. “Devine’s still relatively new. I heard you were looking for experienced agents.”
Wolfram shrugged. The elevator door opened and both men headed toward the entrance doors. “Devine’s got special skills. She’s one of the best field interviewers I’ve seen. She connects easily and quickly with people. Men, women, and children want to be her friend when she flashes that warm smile of hers. We’ll be interviewing in some remote regions where folks don’t easily talk to strangers. She’ll fit in well with the team I’m assembling.”
“She fits in well here, as well.” Leo kept his tone mild.
Wolfram must have caught some inflection, however, because he swiveled his head sharply to look at Leo. “Rachel Sherwood has already been assigned to the task force. She’ll be the perfect mentor and role model for Devine.”
Leo couldn’t argue with that. Sherwood was a legend in the FBI. Working with Wolfram and Sherwood would be an invaluable experience for Devine. “What exactly is your relationship with Devine?” Leo asked as he pushed through the glass door out into the brisk afternoon air. Both men came to a halt beside an empty concrete planter.
“That’s a personal question only someone close to one of us has a right to ask.” The hint of amusement in Wolfram’s expression irritated Leo.
“She’s on my squad,” Leo said. In his book, that meant he had the right to watch her back, regardless of any personal feelings. “I don’t want her hurt.”
“I don’t have the ability to hurt her, Ramos. You might. So tread carefully.” Wolfram’s phone beeped and he glanced down. “I have to take this call.” He headed off toward Fourth Street then paused and looked back. “We have more to talk about. I’ll be in touch next week.”
Leo nodded curtly and watched him stride away, phone to his ear. Wolfram was an excellent choice to head this new task force and a smart man to want Devine on his team. The question was whether he also wanted Devine for himself.
His gut clenched at the thought of the two of them together. Wolfram was an honorable man. He had more to offer a woman like Grace than the month of empty sex that constituted most of Leo’s relationships. That knowledge acted as a cold slap of reality. Was he asshole enough to drive all the way to Henderson on New Year’s Eve and crash the Devine-Kampmueller Ball on a flimsy excuse when he wasn’t sure what he had to offer her?
The phone in his pocket buzzed, signaling a text message.
A full-length picture of Mandy Jenkins appeared on the screen in a shining silver dress cut to her navel, full breasts barely covered. What kept the material sticking to her? He squinted to get a closer look. A small silver bell hung against the taught muscles of her abdomen, attached to a silver loop through her navel. She held a flute of champagne up to the camera. Underneath were the words: Reconsider. Party is at my place.
He shoved the pho
ne back in a pocket and headed for his car.
Chapter 6
Grace pulled her battered leather jacket tight around her chest as she stepped carefully out of her Jeep at the Henderson Country Club. Only a few cars were parked in the large, blacktopped lot this early in the evening. Her family always arrived first. The valet staff wasn’t even on duty yet. She should be able to get inside and have her jacket safely stowed away before she ran into anyone, and by anyone, she meant Annabelle. Her sister would not be pleased to see her carefully executed ensemble covered by worn leather.
Grace took a step, felt her ankle buckle, and immediately grabbed the roof of her Jeep. Ramos would laugh if he could see her now, the tough agent playing at being the belle of the ball. She pulled back her long, champagne-colored skirt and considered her shoes. She had no idea why women wore these kinds of things. What if she needed to chase down some criminal, or execute a defensive move?
Annabelle, fashion tyrant, hadn’t bought that argument. She’d commandeered Grace’s perfectly nice pair of flats and had hidden them in her magic closet. They were probably somewhere in Narnia by now.
The shoes she currently wore were deceptively pretty instruments of torture. Sparkly confetti in shades of pink, blue, gold and silver shimmered on the peep-toe sling-backs. Despite several laps around her room, she still wobbled when she walked.
She was about to take a few more practice steps when headlights appeared on the road leading to the clubhouse and a white Maserati roared into the lot. Her parents had arrived.
Her mother slid out of the passenger side and walked around the front of Grace’s Jeep, moving quite easily in her heels. Maybe Tess was right all those years ago.
“Mom, am I adopted?” Grace asked the approaching woman.
Her mother raised one lightly penciled eyebrow. “Twelve hours of labor, ending in a C-section. You’re all mine. I have the scar to prove it.”