Page 28 of 2nd Strike
As I pour myself a glass of good merlot, I realize there's light coming from my living room. Everything in me goes on alert, and I draw my gun from the holster at my side.
Silent as a cat, gun ready, I slink forward. My heart beats too fast, every muscle in my body tense as a bowstring.
“Don’t shoot me, Charlize,” a low, sexy voice says from the couch.
I was wrong about Jackie being the one to keep the media off my doorstep. For the second time in as many days, JJ surprises me. “What are you doing here?" I ask.
His face is tired as he turns to look at me. He must’ve parked down the block and snuck in the back door so the reporters wouldn't see him.
"I came to check on you, but you weren't here, so I let myself in to wait."
A long time ago, in a weak moment, I gave him a key. Somehow, he bypassed my security alarm too.
I put the gun’s safety back on, head to the kitchen and pour a second glass. My heart is beating too fast for a different reason now.
Returning, I hand him one and sit across from him. "I'm sorry. I screwed up."
All the reasons and logical excuses I was going to spell out in my apology desert me.
"I know." He sips the wine and rubs his eyes. “What a clusterfuck."
He doesn't know the half of it. "Lily is suing me."
He nods. "I saw the list."
There's not enough wine in the world to make me feel better tonight, but I take a big drink anyway. For a second, all I can think of is the list of cousins we’re investigating to see if they match Ethan's genetic makeup. I don't know why he would’ve seen that. “You did?”
He swirls the wine, but doesn't drink. “She’s suing all of us, your name was at the top."
Shit. A totally different list. “Why?” Silly question, but it pops out before I can stop it.
“Who knows? Because you were head of the taskforce that brought Ethan back?" He shrugs. "Because the kid went to you to show you the results instead of her?"
"I suppose. Feels more personal."
“Suing the FBI and U.S. attorney's office sounds dramatic, but she knows she needs a face to put on this disaster, and she's chosen yours. She needs someone her fans and trolls can attack."
Standing, he shrugs off his jacket, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, and plops back down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on my coffee table. He looks so at home here, and I'm more than relieved he seems to have forgiven me.
"I feel like I'm in some weird stasis. I can't go back in time and fix the problem, and I can't seem to find a solution now either. My lawyer told me to keep my hands off the investigation into Ethan's real parents, but most of our other clients fired us after today's media blitz. Can't say I blame them, but I feel…”
“Helpless?”
The wine is an expensive one that I usually enjoy, but I find I can't tonight. It tastes flat. "God, I hate that word."
We sit in silence for long minutes, and I can't help but sneak a look at him. He sees the world much like I do, and our methods for dealing with crime complement each other.
He feels my gaze and lifts his so our eyes meet. "We’re signing the papers in two days," he says softly.
My pulse skips a beat. He can't mean… “The divorce papers?"
It's too much to hope for and he hears the excited desperation in my voice. One corner of his mouth kicks up. "I should be a free man by Friday night. Thought maybe we could have a date."
Even with everything else going on, I hop up, throw my hands in the air, splashing wine on myself, and shout, “Hallelujah!”
His grin turns into a full-on smile and he stands, grabs me around the waist, and kisses me.
Reality catches up a few seconds later and I break away gently. “You don't want to date me. Not right now. We can't, in fact, go public about our relationship at all. If anyone gets a whiff of this”—I waggle a finger between us—“and leaks it to the press while this disaster with the Havers is going on, we'll lose whatever shred of credibility we still have in our respective jobs."
