Lock&Load (PASS Series Book 3) Page 14

  I bump into them halfway up the trail, an older couple I spend a few minutes chatting with before they head back to the parking lot. I’ve gone only a few steps when my phone rings in my backpack.

  Radar. Now he wants to talk? Screw that.

  I turn off my ringer and return it to my pack—I’m not going to be available at his whim—and resume the trail.

  Right before the path switches back I find a large rock to sit down on and for a while I simply take in the view and let my mind quiet down.

  By the time I turn back, the sun is already low in the sky and the temperature has dropped dramatically. It looks like I spent more time out there than I thought; it must be getting close to eight. The display on my phone confirms it and I ignore the numerous messages that were left. I’ll deal with those later. I turn the sound back on and slip it in my pocket.

  My rental is where I left it and I quickly turn on the heat before heading home. I feel better, back in control of my own destiny.

  I am hungry, though. Haven’t had a thing since that early lunch at the shelter, so I stop at the Wendy’s drive-thru and order a bacon jalapeño cheeseburger. I deserve it after today.

  My phone rings while I’m waiting for my food. At first I’m afraid it’s Radar again but am relieved to see the number for my insurance company pop up. It’s the adjuster to set up an appointment to come look at the car. I agree to meet with him tomorrow morning at the auto repair shop.

  That’ll be one less thing to worry about.

  I’m barely inside my apartment, enjoying the first bite of my guilty pleasure, when someone starts banging on my door. I’m not entirely surprised to see Radar standing on my doorstep through the peephole, looking none too pleased. I take a deep breath, mentally steel myself to be unaffected by anything he has to say and open the door, which is promptly ripped from my hold as he barges inside.

  “Where the hell were you?” are his first words as he slams the door shut behind him.

  “Excuse me?”

  The thin veneer I managed to coat my emotions with quickly melts away as anger takes over.

  “I’ve been worried sick. One minute you’re there and the next you’re gone. For hours,” he adds accusatorily.

  Trying not to notice he looks hot with his hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed, I shore myself up to my full height, which is still probably a foot short of target.

  I go for what I hope is an unflappable tone when I respond.

  “I wasn’t under the impression you’d notice.”

  Radar

  Stalking into her living room I let myself sink down on her couch, my hands immediately going into my hair. Much like they’ve done for what may well have been the longest couple of hours of my life.

  I’d probably been an ass, yes, but I’d still been working on a short fuse when I got home earlier. Rather than risk alienating Hillary, along with everyone else, I chose to hide out in my office. In hindsight I could’ve said something before shutting her out, but I already felt raw and wanted some time to sort my shit.

  When I finally did, I made a quick call of apology to Agent Dunn and a much longer one to my boss. I wanted to get that out of the way and make sure I still had a job, so I wouldn’t have that hanging over my head the rest of the day. After that I went in search of Hillary.

  I look up to find her standing in front of me, hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised high. I lower my eyes, unsure of where to start.

  “I got into it with Jake at the office,” I finally say, registering her surprised gasp, but I keep talking. “I haven’t slept since Sunday night, this fucking case has put everyone in a pressure cooker, and Jake said something that tripped my trigger.” I lift a quick hand. “I’m not excusing anything, I’m just trying to explain what happened before I was an ass to you.”

  I can feel her stare at me before she sits down beside me.

  “Okay. Explain.”

  “Things got heated. Yanis had to intervene and I stormed out of the office.” I snort derisively. Not my most glorious moment and definitely not fun admitting.

  “Did it get physical?” she asks.

  I finally look at her and it warms me to see concern on her face.

  “No, thank God. I can hold my own, but probably not against Jake. Anyway,” I continue, “I was good and fired up, came home, and found you there. Felt I needed to get my head sorted first—I’m not particularly proud of my temper—so I hid out in my office. I should probably have communicated that first.”

  This time it’s Hillary who snorts. When I look over she’s wearing a sardonic smile, but then she turns serious.

  “What exactly did Jake say that set you off?”

  Fuck. This part I’d hoped to avoid, because I know it’ll piss her off, and I have no doubt she’ll make that known to Jake and/or Rosie, which may make things even more uncomfortable than they already are. Exactly what Jake was afraid of.

  “The fact you hesitate to tell me suggests it had something to do with me. Did it?” she prompts.

  I’m officially stuck in damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don’t territory.

  “He’s just looking out for you.” I can’t believe I end up defending him, but it won’t do any of us any good if this stirs up more trouble.

  “Oh, I can guess,” she mutters, clearly not pleased. She gets up to pace, understandably agitated, and then she lets loose, her hands flying. “You know what boggles my mind? Every guy I know seems to think by merit of having a dick, they’re responsible to protect those of us who are apparently nothing but a set of walking tits and therefore unable to look after ourselves.”

  “Lady…” I start carefully, but opt to leave it at that when she shoots a fiery glare my way.

  “Don’t even start,” she growls, pulling at her hair in frustration, and starts pacing again. “If men learned to communicate properly, let go of their misplaced superiority complex, and maybe began to value women as equals, I bet you the world wouldn’t be such a fucked-up place.”

  I open my mouth, but I’ve got nothing.

  She makes valid points.

  “What?” She stops in front of me with narrowed eyes. “No argument?”

  “Nope.” I can see I surprise her. “No argument, but a defense.”

  “Can’t wait to hear this.” The sarcasm is thick, but I don’t let it stop me.

  “What we’ve got going on here is new. I like it. Hell, I like you, but I’m in uncharted territory, have already fucked up once or twice, and didn’t think it was a good idea to give you a front-row seat to my temper and risk strike three.” Her expression softens as she sits back down beside me. I take her hand and am encouraged when she doesn’t immediately pull away. “I’m trying not to mess things up.”

  She lifts her hand to my face and strokes along my jaw, but the faint smile on her face is sad.

  “You know…that’s what relationships are supposed to be; messy. You take the good, the bad, the ups, and the downs. It’s not gonna work if you can’t give all of you, and it definitely won’t work if you don’t trust the other.”

  “I trust you,” I blurt out, sensing despite the gentle hand on my face, this conversation is not heading in a direction I like. The sweet smile is not helping.

  “No, you don’t,” she says softly, almost apologetically. “Not really, or you would’ve walked in this afternoon and shared your miserable day with me like I invited you to.”

  I’m looking for words, trying to find the right response, the one that will avoid what I know is coming, but before I have a chance to say anything she leans in and brushes her lips against mine.

  “Here’s the thing, Radar; I’m not sure I trust you either.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hillary

  I catch myself glancing out the kitchen window again. So much for self-control.

  It’s been two days since I watched Radar walk out of my apartment, convinced I was doing the right thing by letting him go. Every minute since I’ve question
ed that decision and I’m pissed at myself for it.

  I’m also irrationally disappointed that he didn’t fight to change my mind, even when I just finished telling him I don’t want or need a man to hold dominion over me. How fucked up is that?

  To boot, Rosie’s been calling all morning and I’ve ignored her calls. I’d just admitted on Tuesday in her office I was trying things on with Radar, and I’m not ready to hear her tell me what an idiot I was for breaking things off almost immediately. Because I know that’s what she’ll say. She’ll probably call me a coward; tell me I’m just looking for excuses because I’m too much of a chickenshit to take a chance on a good man.

  She’d be right on all accounts.

  Still I can’t bring myself to message or call him, tell him perhaps I’m having second thoughts. What if he changed his mind too and decided I’m more trouble than I’m worth?

  Round and round I go.

  Maybe it’s better like this; keep my heart safe. Hope hurts. Never mind I already feel like I’m bleeding.

  I dry the last of my grandmother’s china. Not that I used it but it was getting dusty and besides, I needed something to do with my hands. It’s my day off and it’s been steadily raining since early this morning. I’ve already scrubbed the apartment, washed and folded my laundry, paid bills, looked at Consumer Reports comparisons for a new car, and reorganized my linen closet.

  I met with the guy from the insurance company yesterday morning and he signed off on the quote Chris, my mechanic, gave him for the repairs on the spot. Of course, after he left Chris quoted me half the price using an aftermarket windshield and suggested I trade in the Honda for something a little newer. I was going to shop around some of the dealerships, but the rain isn’t exactly conducive to that.

  With the china clean and put away, I’m about to make myself some tea when there’s a rap at the door. I almost drop the teapot I’m holding and curse my heart for almost leaping from my chest.

  I push down the hope that feels like a bubble of air in my chest and force myself to walk at a normal pace to the front door. I succeed but can’t help holding my breath as I peek through the peephole. My chest deflates like a popped balloon when I recognize the red mop of hair.

  “You!” Rosie pokes a finger in my chest as she forces herself inside my apartment. “Can you not pick up your damn phone? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

  Since she’s already pissed, I feel it safe to assume she already found out I sent Radar packing.

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls, but I wasn’t ready to hear what kind of monumental fool you think I am.”

  It takes me a moment to realize Rosie looks confused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re here because of the thing with Radar, right?”

  Now her eyes turn to slits. “What did he do?” she growls in a low voice.

  As sweet and innocent as my friend looks, she can be fierce. If I don’t set her straight on her obvious misinterpretation, I wouldn’t be surprised if she went after Radar and wouldn’t bother asking for explanations. That’s Rosie; jumping in for those she cares about without so much as a thought. Fiercely protective, much like her husband is.

  Or…Radar?

  It takes a minute for the significance of that last thought to register and in that time, Rosie’s already aiming for the door.

  “It’s more what I did,” I quickly clarify, and she spins around. “I…may have made a mistake.”

  “One that involves Radar?”

  I scrunch my face up. “Possibly.”

  “Oh shit. You chickened out, didn’t you?”

  I’m fortunate to have a friend who knows me so well, but right now I wish I wasn’t such an open book to her.

  “I kind of did,” I confess.

  She rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. You can tell me all about it but later; right now, we have bigger problems.”

  “We do?”

  She walks up to me and takes me by the arm, leading me to the couch.

  “You may wanna sit down for this.”

  She sits and so do I, turning my body toward her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Jeff.” She shakes her head and I brace myself for what I’m afraid is not going to be good news. “I heard it from Jake, who heard it from Bree, who happened to be at the police station when the call came in. A body wearing a green Boston Celtics windbreaker was found floating in the Colorado River, underneath the railroad bridge just south of the shelter.”

  I can see it clearly; the dirty green jacket Jeff wouldn’t even take off long enough for us to wash at the shelter. He loved that jacket, the only thing in his life he was attached to. Tears burn in my throat, realizing I’m glad at least he had that when he died.

  “How?”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t know yet. Could be he fell or slipped trying to get out of the way of a train while crossing the bridge. Maybe he jumped. I don’t know. Jake says he’ll try to find out more, but it may depend on an autopsy and who knows when they will get around to that.”

  “I can’t believe it. I just saw him two days ago.”

  Rosie grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.

  “I know, which is why I was trying to get a hold of you. The police will inevitably come knocking at the shelter and find out you were the last one there to speak to him or see him alive.”

  No doubt about that. After meeting with Willa and Rosie on Tuesday, word went out that Jeff was not allowed back at the shelter. Everyone would’ve heard.

  It could’ve been suicide. He was pretty distraught the last time I saw him.

  Or maybe, whoever Jeff was so afraid of caught up with him.

  Radar

  “Heads-up.”

  I look up to find Jake standing in the doorway to my office.

  I succeeded in avoiding him after Yanis called us into his office first thing yesterday morning when I showed up. He didn’t mince words and made it perfectly clear he didn’t give the first fuck about what set our heated exchange on Tuesday in motion, but expected us to behave like the professionals we are paid to be. Especially when the feds, who were footing that bill, were sitting in the next office listening to every word.

  Needless to say, both of us walked out of the office duly scolded and with the proverbial tail between the legs—at least mine was—and managed to stay out of each other’s way since then.

  Which makes me curious, and a tad uneasy, why suddenly Jake is in my office talking to me.

  “What?”

  Granted, my response could perhaps have been a little less hostile, but I blame him in part for the clusterfuck my life seems to have turned into since then.

  The situation with Hillary aside, I discovered coming out of Yanis’ office yesterday morning, SAC Sanders felt it necessary to move Sarah into the conference room with him. She caught my confused look and followed me into the small kitchen to apologize and tell me it hadn’t been her idea. That made me feel moderately better until her boss came to let me know since I had been compromised by whomever is responsible for Lock&Load, his people would investigate online while I’d be working on deciphering the pages of code.

  That was a kick in the ass.

  Let’s face it; I’m still butt-hurt.

  “Look,” Jake says, keeping his voice down and stepping farther into my office, “we’ll deal with that shit later, so save me the attitude. This is about your girlfriend.”

  I snort. “You can rest easy, that was over Tuesday night. And before you start pointing fingers, it wasn’t by my doing.”

  “Hillary ended it?” he asks, disbelief all over his face.

  “Before we even got properly started. Told me it was done so I walked.” I can hear the bitter tone of my own voice.

  “So, you walked?” he echoes back.

  “Yeah, I walked.”

  Then he closes
the door, plants his clenched fists on my desk, and leans in my face.

  “Are you insane? You don’t walk out on a woman like Hillary. You stay and you fucking fight for her.”

  I look at him incredulously.

  “Am I insane?” I hiss, trying not to lose my cool again or I might be out of a job. “Weren’t you the one who warned me away from her in the first place?”

  “Yeah, about that. Rosie had a few choice words for me when I mentioned something about it last night.” He straightens up and looks a bit sheepish. “I may have been out of line. According to Rosie, Hillary is into you in a big way and she threatened to castrate me in my sleep if I didn’t make things right.”

  “So that’s what you came in here for? An apology?” I shake my head. “You could’ve just said I’m sorry I was an ass and left it at that.”

  “Didn’t I just say that? But that’s not the reason I came in. One of the shelter’s residents was fished out of the Colorado River this morning. I was talking to Rosie and she thinks Hillary may be the last person who talked to the guy. The cops will be all over that.”

  I’m out of my chair and shove my laptop in my bag.

  “Why didn’t you fucking say so right away?”

  Before he has a chance to answer, I already have the door open and dart out.

  “You’re fucking welcome!” he calls after me.

  My phone is ringing by the time I get to my truck and I answer without looking as I climb behind the wheel.

  “In a hurry, Radar?”

  It’s Yanis.

  “Yeah, something came up. I’ll—”

  “Jake just told me,” he interrupts. “Keep us in the loop.”

  Not what I expected but I’ll take it.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  In typical Yanis form, he hangs up without wasting another word.

  Her front door is just opening when I come up the stairs. Rosie steps out and spots me, her face splitting open in a wide grin.