Calculated Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  “Shit,” Downs spat.

  “I guess we got some ‘splainin’ to do,” Lee muttered.

  Her partner threw her a look, but there was no amusement in his expression.

  * * * *

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  Lee jarred in the driver’s seat, even though Nate’s voice had been soft and even. She shook her head.

  “It might help you process it all.”

  “I’m good.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re shaking from head to foot.”

  She sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Downs’ Charger was in front of them on the freeway. Her partner wasn’t speeding. Stuck in the right lane, going exactly sixty miles per hour.

  Neither Lee nor her partner was looking forward to the ass chewing that awaited them in their boss’s office. No doubt Liv would have some extra special touches for Lee, considering she’d not only left a safe site, but a witness to the man who wanted him dead.

  Yay. It’s gonna be fun.

  Lee cleared her throat in lieu of rolling her eyes at herself. “Nate… Can you just…leave me be?”

  Her lover was silent and she chided herself for the dose of honesty. She’d just hurt his feelings—again.

  When he’d only been trying to help.

  As usual.

  She didn’t want to talk about seeing Jeremy Stewart fall to that Oriental rug in a mess of limbs and blood. He’d been a dirty FBI agent that had worked for their enemy—a man the whole unit had been chasing for years.

  Lee shouldn’t care that he was dead. Too damn bad she did.

  At one time, Jeremy had been a good agent. A good man. He had a family. People he cared about.

  Why had he crossed the line? And when? What’d made him kill a witness? Shoot his own partner?

  Sad thing was they couldn’t ask him now. Jeremy Stewart’s motives had gone to the grave with him.

  When the dust settled, their whole unit would be left reeling…and wondering. No doubt asking questions of each other. Pointing out times when things ‘just didn’t seem right’. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all.

  Maybe when Evan Roberts woke up they could get his insight. Did he know something about his partner no one else did?

  Although, the emotion and anguish on Jeremy Stewart’s face at the end had told her he regretted everything.

  Maybe death was a gift. He wouldn’t have done well in prison. Ex-law enforcement never did, unless they were placed in protective units.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Nate’s whisper broke into her thoughts.

  Lee shook her head. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I just want to help. You need to be okay. So I can be okay. I lo—care—I care about you.”

  Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she started in her seat. Plastered her eyes to the snowy road in front of her. Her tongue was frozen to the roof of her mouth, but she wouldn’t have responded anyway.

  He’d stopped short of saying he loved her.

  Shit.

  Just. Shit.

  No way.

  All the convincing in the world couldn’t change the word he’d almost said. Her gut tightened.

  She didn’t—couldn’t—look at him. Heat crept up her neck, scorching her cheeks. Lee kept herself busy by reciting Clint’s licence plate over and over again in her head. Letters and numbers forward, then back, until it was all a jumble in her head.

  The only sounds in the car were the wiper blades and the low hum of the radio. The music faded in and out. Like it was far away.

  “Don’t shut me out for caring.”

  Lee ignored the words. Her pulsed thundered in her ears, rushing like a typhoon. Until her heart pounded so fast it left her chest with a physical ache.

  God, just let me get to the office. Now.

  She contemplated whipping around Clint’s car, driving eighty or ninety, but then Nate would know he was getting to her.

  “Lee.” His hot hand clamped down on her thigh, but she didn’t move.

  Still didn’t look at him.

  “Why do you always have to push me?” Words tumbled out of her mouth. She cursed her shaky voice. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. Not everything is about you, Counsellor.”

  What a copout, Selena Dawson.

  But it worked. Nate pulled his hand off her leg. He said nothing, but her peripheral vision told her he’d turned to look out the passenger window. His strong jaw was clenched, and both hands were tight fists in his lap.

  Great.

  Keep piling on the hurt.

  It was for the best, though.

  Nate could go home now. Get back to his life, and back to work. Back to the job he was passionate about.

  Caselli would have to recover before they put him on trial for Fiato’s murder. Likely months would pass before Nate would have to be back in New York to testify.

  The state wasn’t going to fight federal jurisdiction, so Caselli would be tried for capital murder as soon as he was back on his feet. After all, they’d got a federal judge to sign the warrant, so the county District Attorney wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on anyway. As for killing Stewart, two FBI witnesses would expedite things. Caselli would likely be arraigned on both charges at the same time.

  Nate could leave as soon as her boss and the prosecutor on the case gave the all-clear. No doubt Liv would let them know the status when they got back to the office.

  Lee swallowed against the lump in her throat. A sob threatened and took her by surprise. She bit the insides of both cheeks, then her bottom lip.

  Wouldn’t cry in the car. Where there was nowhere to run.

  She couldn’t take sympathy in those hazel depths.

  So she’d rather have him pissed at her. She regretted hurting him, but at least it meant silence.

  It’d make parting easier.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The meeting in Liv’s office was after a quick shower in the locker room and a change of clothes. Thank God she always kept jeans and a T-shirt at the office. She’d thrown the old outfit out. Didn’t want to wash them. Wouldn’t wear them again, even stain-free.

  Lee closed her eyes against the memories of the blood rinsing from her body only to go down the drain. Like the man who’d died in her arms had been nothing.

  Her boss’s eyes had held real sympathy when Olivia had enquired if both she and Clint were okay after what they’d witnessed.

  No, I don’t need a shrink. Lee hadn’t said the words, but she’d wanted to.

  As soon as their well-being had been established, Liv had started in on them. Harsh admonition with a side of don’t-even-think-of-doing-something-like-that-again, mixed with praise that’d they’d finally got Caselli, albeit wounded.

  Special Agent Olivia Barnes’ pep talk wasn’t nearly as bad as Lee had anticipated.

  Thank. God.

  The boss had even made a joke that Lee had rubbed off on Clint—in a bad way. But they weren’t fired or arrested, so her day wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

  Their whole unit was indeed reeling about Jeremy Stewart. No one had had a clue about his dealings with Caselli, proving just how smart he’d been.

  Caught between grief and shock, her teammates were very vocal about their loss. They’d be talking about him for a long time to come.

  As his supervisor, Olivia informed them all she would be doing the death notifications. Lee was relieved. She’d told Liv whom he’d spoken of as he’d lain dying. Didn’t think she could face anyone who loved Stewart. His family knew him as a hero, in a way. Working for the FBI, catching the bad guys.

  Did they have any clue what he’d been into?

  Until they were able to talk to Caselli, there were too many questions up in the air, but hopefully Smythe would have news of his condition sooner than later, and Lee and Clint could plan the when and how they were going to tie loose ends. They were still the lead agents on the case, despite Liv’s displeasure.


  Liv was in agreement with Lee and Downs—they’d head to the hospital the moment the bastard was awake and they could talk to him.

  Neither of them would let any stupid doctor be overprotective and prohibit them from entry. They would get the asshole to talk.

  Lee couldn’t wait to look the bastard in the face and tell him he was under arrest for murder.

  Nate had been told to wait at her desk until the meeting with Barnes was over, but she didn’t want to face him.

  Too bad there was no reason for Liv to chew on her and Clint for a while longer. The remainder of the day would’ve been nice. Or all night into the next morning…

  She hadn’t been able to look into Nate’s eyes since she’d pulled the Accord into the parking garage.

  He hadn’t said much after her snarky remark—not that she blamed him.

  Who wants to talk to a bitch who does nothing but hurt you, anyway? And besides, his silence was what you wanted.

  Right?

  Clint had taken one look at the two of them before they’d entered headquarters, and had shaken his head.

  Perfect that her partner could see it too.

  “Why don’t you go home?” Downs’ deep voice made her jump as they walked down the hallway headed away from their boss’s office.

  “Nah. Tons of paperwork to handle.”

  “First of all, you don’t have to do it all yourself. And it doesn’t need to be today.”

  The federal prosecutors had either drawn straws or had lain in wait. Either way, the guy—Eric Norton—who’d been saddled with the Angelo Fiato murder had already contacted their boss and requested initial reports from NYPD as well as FBI. Clint had written their report, so Lee hadn’t worried about it, but she needed to write an addendum to the narrative with her take on the scene.

  It didn’t have to be today.

  Lee sighed. “I need to work.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you always say. But you’re not alone in this. Besides, Crane is waiting for you.”

  Don’t remind me. “If nothing else, the counsellor understands the value of hard work.”

  Clint pinned her with a sharp look. “Right.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his pale gaze. “Downs—”

  Her partner put a large palm up, making her pause before him.

  Lee’s gaze darted to their open office door, about twenty feet down the corridor. Her stomach flip-flopped. She couldn’t see Nate inside, but she could feel his proximity.

  “Go. Home. Relax.” Clint’s voice dropped and his harsh expression loosened. “Spend what time with him you can.”

  Shaking her head, she ignored the threatening mixed emotions. “It’s not like that.”

  “Liar.” His retort was quick and Clint narrowed his eyes.

  “I—”

  “Don’t feed me your bullshit, Dawson. Not about this. Won’t work.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Lee felt about five years old. She cursed the tears burning her eyes and averted her gaze from her partner.

  “You wanna tell him he’s cut loose till the trial, or should I?”

  Eric Norton was satisfied with Nate’s written statement and confident if he needed her attorney he could get a hold of him—even in Texas.

  So Nate could go.

  Home. Sixteen hundred miles away from her.

  Lee’s heart missed a beat.

  Probably some stupid form of professional courtesy.

  Jerk.

  Lee didn’t know Eric Norton. But she didn’t like him.

  “Lee?” Her name on Clint’s lips made her jump.

  “What?”

  “You got me on ignore now?”

  She scowled at the amusement in his expression. “No. Just thinking.”

  “Wanna share with the class?”

  “Hell no.”

  Clint chuckled. “There’s my partner. So, you tellin’ him, or am I?”

  “I’ll handle it,” she snapped. Lee marched to her office, leaving Downs in the corridor with a smirk on his face. One she’d pretended not to notice.

  Her whole body stuttered at first sight of Nate, even before she stepped into the small room. His strong back was to her, and he was on the phone.

  Lee slipped inside, studying his profile.

  “Great. Thanks.” He jotted something down on her notepad and smiled. It was serene, free and something almost private.

  Intruder alert from some space movie played on a loop in her head.

  Her stomach somersaulted. “Nate…” The whisper was unintended, but their gazes collided.

  His smile faded. “Are you all right?” Concern enveloped his words.

  She couldn’t speak, so she forced a nod.

  Nate was on his feet in seconds. “Sorry, I didn’t ask to use the phone.”

  Lee cleared her throat. “Oh, it’s no problem.”

  He reached for both her hands and squeezed. “You’re pale, angel. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I’m good.” She made her lips curve up. “Promise.”

  His gorgeous hazel eyes scanned her face, but his shoulders loosened after a moment. “Good. How’d your meeting with Special Agent Barnes go?”

  “I’m still gainfully employed.” Her joke missed its mark, but Nate smirked.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Your partner in the same situation?”

  “Yup.” And I need to thank him for giving us a moment alone. “Listen. I have to tell you something.”

  Nate waited, his expression open to the bomb she was about to drop.

  “The prosecutor for Fiato’s case said you can go home. My boss agreed, since Caselli’s in custody.”

  He was silent for a while, but his eyes spoke volumes Lee tried not to see. “It’s safe now, huh.” Nate’s voice was low, more statement than question.

  “Maybe not completely, but yes. For a little while, his organisation will be in chaos. He never replaced his right-hand man after Bruno Gallo went to prison, and the inner circle is all in New York jail cells. As long as he’s unconscious, he can’t bribe anyone to get orders—death or otherwise—out of the hospital. And knowing his father, Antonio Senior will make a go for his assets. I’m not sure we put them out of business today, but we’re a hell of a lot closer. So you can go home.” Her voice cracked on the last word and Lee cringed.

  God, please don’t react.

  Nate squeezed her hand. “I’m not sure—”

  “I’ll call your brother and Lucas and brief them so you’ll have adequate protection if need be.” Lee forced the words from her mouth faster than her brain formed them. Her tongue stumbled.

  She couldn’t take it if he was worried about leaving.

  Or if he voiced not wanting to leave her.

  “I’m not worried about not being protected.”

  “Dawson.”

  Lee could have kissed her partner for the well-timed interruption. His oversized frame filled the doorway, and she was more than glad to rip her gaze away from Nate to meet Downs’ pale blue eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Eric Norton’s on the phone for Crane. Wants to talk to him before he skips town.”

  Nate answered before she could. “Where do I take the call?”

  * * * *

  “When are you leaving?” Her head spun when the words slipped from her lips. Lee’s chest hurt. Like her heart and lungs couldn’t get enough air.

  “Tomorrow. I have a meeting in the morning, but then…” Nate’s eyes locked onto hers.

  A tremor shot down her spine and she tore her gaze away. She wanted to ask him, ‘but then… What?’ She didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Am I supposed to ask him to stay?

  God, stop looking at me like that!

  Lee’s eyes darted around the apartment that’d been home since arriving in New York City two years before. The décor was sparse at best—she’d never been a thing person.

  No pictures on the walls. Only essentials as far as furniture—a dark brown, microfibre overstuffed couch an
d matching loveseat. Mahogany coffee table she’d bought at a local consignment store. At least it looked good with the standard issue, tan apartment carpet. Television was small, too. She hardly ever watched it anyway.

  She hadn’t brought anything from Dallas except clothing. Hadn’t been able to stand the memories of the things from the house she’d shared with Russ. She’d sold the house and moved into an apartment after he and Dylan had died. Had put everything in storage, and left it there. Didn’t really care if her mom paid the bill or let Storage Wars have at it.

  Lee cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Do you need a ride to JFK?”

  “Only if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t. I’ll let Clint know I’ll have to leave.”

  “Lee—”

  “Don’t. Please. Just…just—let’s enjoy our last evening together.”

  “I can call a cab.”

  Emotion threatened to close her throat, but she managed a head shake. “No. I can take you. I want to.”

  “All right.” Nate took a step closer, but Lee backed up. She couldn’t have his hands on her right now.

  His face fell. Like usual, he was great at reading body language and no doubt he could tell. But he didn’t move towards her or push the issue.

  Thank God.

  “What time’s your meeting?” She forced the question past her lips.

  Normal. Be normal.

  “Nine.” His broad shoulders scrunched up and Nate buried his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He reclined into the wall of her small living room, knee bent and cowboy boot propped up.

  She didn’t ask with who or what the meeting was about.

  Don’t wanna know.

  Lee had unit debrief at the same time. Then she and Clint had planned head to the hospital to try to get Caselli to talk. The doc said he was stable. He was in the prison unit with a twenty-four seven guard.

  According to Smythe, the bastard was coming around nicely after surgery. Caselli was awake.

  Jeremy Stewart had hit him three times. Once in the gut, a right shoulder through-and-through wound and grazed his left side.

  “What are we doing?”

  “What’d you mean?” Lee swallowed hard.

  “C’mon. Don’t give me that crap. You’re tense. Surprised you’re not pacing. Tell me what you’re thinking.”