Page 10 of Mensa's Match

In a conversation with our case manager, Ben said I had an obsession with nailing the Riot MC. He felt I had too much of a chip on my shoulder where Mensa was concerned. He’d repeated that during the questioning with the deadly force review panel. Add in my deepening friendship with Riley, and multiple people questioned whether I was capable of maintaining my cover.

They might have been right.

Being undercover wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was lonesome, grueling, and often felt like the case would never break. Those factors made it easy to get burned out. Plenty of people got burned out at their jobs, but losing any edge in an undercover case made a world of difference.

When I returned to Quantico for the routine stress test and mental health evaluation, I had expected to pass like I had six months prior. Yet the psychologist zeroed in on my issuesimmediately. While the recommendation was for me to take time off to get myself sorted, to my bones I knew it was time to hang it up. The competitive side of me despised this idea, but I couldn’t deny such stark clarity.

I resented that this realization came at the hands of Ben, a man who claimed to care about me. We’d gotten to that relationship stage where we talked about moving in together. I hadn’t fallen in love, but I had deep feelings for him.

My instinct said he’d been using me. Were the signs there all along? How did my judgment get so impaired where he was concerned?

I approached a major intersection along Beach Boulevard and turned around. Another bolt of clarity hit me: I wasn’t getting involved with another man any time soon. No matter what Aunt Nadia said to the contrary.

Chapter 4

Didn't Need to Know

Mensa

“Two glasses of redwine,” Riley ordered with a huge grin on her face.

Mensa arched a brow. “Both of those for you… or did you bring your newest, former-FBI friend?”

“She brought her oldest friend, not that it should matter to you,” Aurora said, her straight dark hair draped over her shoulder.

Mensa dipped his chin, turned, and poured two glasses of Merlot.

Once he set the glasses on cocktail napkins, Aurora put a twenty on the bar. “You can keep the change because if I have anything to do with it, I’m getting her newest friend to sing tonight.”

“Aurora! I told you Whitney isn’t coming out,” Riley said.

Aurora tipped her head toward Mensa. “Yeah, because he doesn’t want to see her.”

Riley shook her head and grabbed her glass. “She has a lot going on right now.”

Aurora stared at him, but nodded a couple times. “Yeah, all the more reason to come out for karaoke.”

Mensa lifted both hands in surrender. “You want her here, have at it. I’ve done what Cynic asked of me since I got the sound system set up, and I’ve trained Finn on how to handle any snafus. It’s slow tonight. I’m out of here in forty-five minutes, if not sooner.”

“You’re no fun,” Riley complained.

He shook his head. “I’m just glad to know my instincts were right about her being in law enforcement. I'm done with the drama. Have fun, and get your name on the list now.”

He jinxed himself. His plan to cut out early imploded when their three latest prospects arrived. Cynic had neglected to tell Mensa that he and Finn would be training these men during Open-Mic night.

The unexpected training meant he had a full view of Whitney strutting her fine ass inside Twisted Talons. Between her tight, dark-wash jeans and the fire-engine red sleeveless blouse, she commanded attention.

Four men tracked Whitney’s progress to where Aurora and Riley sat, and Mensa ground his molars together. One of those men watching her wore a cut. Mensa hadn’t caught which club the man was with, but he’d noticed the name patch said ‘Rod’ and right below his name was a Vice President patch.

Whitney showed up exactly forty-five minutes after Aurora and Riley had been at the bar giving him shit. He never should have said a damned thing to them.

He’d jinxed himself all right.

Finn sidled up to him. “I got the prospects in the back. This might be the only lull we get for a while, go get your dinner. I ate about an hour ago.”

The smartest thing he’d done that evening was order a gyro from DeeLight’s to be delivered. The food at Twisted Talons was great…or so Mensa had heard. Too much of the menu contained cheese for him to know for sure. And even the items without cheese were off limits because the batter contained whey, which was a milk by-product.

This didn’t bother Mensa most of the time. He’d long become accustomed to limited options at restaurants. If anything it made him more grateful for the local restaurants that made food he could eat without wondering if he’d need to grab his EpiPen.

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