Page 3 of 1st Shock
Charlie
I'm worried about my sister.
I'm pissed at the man in front of me.
Story of my life.
"What do you think you're doing?" I ask JJ as I lean on my desk, crossing my arms under my chest and giving him my best glare. I've practiced it for hours in the mirror, getting it just right to make men cower under it. Women too, if they get in my way.
JJ meets my stare with the crooked grin that irritates the crap out of me. His eyes start at my three-inch Louboutins and creep up my legs to my hips, the grin growing wider when he stops at my generous rack. I hold perfectly still, ignoring the way my pulse trips all over itself.
Breathe, dammit. Do not let him get to you.
Fat chance that.
Finally, his gaze moves to my lips then locks with mine. "What do you mean, Charlize?"
JJ Carrington III knows exactly what I mean. He's always pushing me, taunting me, teasing me. Just like using my full name. He tells me it's so much sexier than the gender confusing Charlie.
"Why did you come in the back door?"
His eyes spark, ready for a sparring match. "The two measly spots out front were taken."
I'm a forensic psychologist, a former FBI profiler. I'm loyal to a fault but I'm a born skeptic. I question everything, including everyone's motives. "Correction, you deliberately parked in the rear lot and came in that way so you could avoid my office, and this very discussion, before talking to Meg. You brought the skull in aplastic shopping bag."
He lifts his hands, palms up, supplicating. Pretending not to know what the big deal is. "Walking around in broad daylight with a human skull tends to freak people out."
"You knew she’d be incensed and immediately champion for the person it represents. Which would lead to her bonding with the damn skull and offering her services, because that's what she does. You know that and took advantage."
The U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia handles local and federal cases. He oozes confidence, power, and control.
I have a thing for powerful, sexy men...and this one? Off. The. Charts.
He takes a slow, deliberate step toward me, staying just out of my personal space. Teasing once again. "You and I both know there is no one on God's green earth that can manipulate either of the Schock sisters. If Meg didn't want to do it, she would have said no."
"When was the last time Meg said no to a cold case?"
"When was the last time you did?"
Damn him. I talk a good game, but I'm just as obsessed as Meg, and he knows it. One of the reasons I left the FBI was all the red tape. Things move too slowly with them, there were too many rules. I'm all for them, but swift resolution is equally important. Families deserve closure, victims retribution.
"The local PD doesn't have it in the budget to get a reconstruction done," JJ finally admits, then rattles some other excuse about a public service group and the National Park Service giving his office grief.
We are not getting paid. Again. I reach over and tap a stack of files on my desk. "These are all paying clients. They deserve to come first, and since I'm not only the lead investigator around here, but also the accountant, I can tell you we don't have it in ours either."
"Give the paying clients to Mad Dog. He can handle them."
The other reason I left the FBI was to take care of Meg. Then Matt came along, and it was like we expanded our family. He became our younger brother. I have a responsibility to them to keep Schock Sister Investigations successful. Profitable. To watch out for them and our receptionist, Haley.
JJ inches toward me, officially crossing the boundary of my personal space. My pulse, already wonky, goes Code Red. "I need you on this too, Charlize. I don't think reconstructing the skull will be enough." Another step. "I need someone familiar with cold cases, murder cases. Come on, say you'll do it."
“You think murder is involved?” Dumb question, of course he does. Most bodies don’t end up buried in a park. “Never mind. The answer is still no.”
My sister doesn't know about this—no one but JJ and I do—but we slept together last year at a crime and evidence conference in Milwaukee. I didn't even know he was going to be there. I’d been asked to sit on a panel and had been enjoying myself in the thick of what I do best. Worrying too much about Meg and Matt took a backseat.
Then, as I looked over the group attending our session, I saw a familiar six-foot-four, dark haired man in a flashy Brioni suit. He gave me a wolfish grin and asked a question—I forget now what it was—and later, I drank too much brandy and ended up seducing him.
It was the easiest seduction ever.
