Page 23 of Mine to Share

“I’m not sure about the connection angle with the victim from this morning. We’re still running his background and all that shit. As far as the others go, the only connections they seem to share are their gender and, from what we can tell, being heterosexual. They held different jobs, some were in relationships, others not, and they lived in different locations in the city. Hell, they didn’t even go to the same bars or restaurants. They lived totally different lives.”

“Hopefully, Rain will have something new for us after the autopsy. If anyone can find something for us to go off of, it’s her.” His eyes cut my way, and I rolled mine, knowing this conversation was about to take a drastic detour. “Is she dating anyone?”

“Had a date last night,” I grumbled. “Not sure how that went, but she’s not in a relationship that I know of.”

“Maybe I’ll see if she’s free tonight, then.” He studied me, no doubt watching for even the smallest reaction. I gritted my teeth to not say a word. “You wouldn’t have a problem with that, would you?”

“Why would I?” He shrugged, but it was that damn knowing smirk that pissed me right off. “Guessing you don’t have someone at home waiting for you.” That cocky attitude of his vanished, turning more introspective the longer I watched him.Well, fuck, now I feel bad.“Don’t worry. Me neither.”

“Ever been?” he asked. “Married, that is.”

I held up three fingers. His sharp whistle cut through the office, and I snorted. “Tell me about it. Though they got their money and stay out of my life, which is fine by me—and them.” Glancing around the small office, I released a humorless chuckle. “Guess that means I’m not cut out for long-term commitment, right?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, I swung my gaze back his way, which he held for a split second before going back to sorting the notes and files. “Not necessarily. Are you wanting me to profile you and tell you what I see? Initial take, of course.”

Shit. Was I?

Did I want to hear someone like him verify what I already knew?

“Nah, I know what happened. No mystery there,” I said, not wanting him to list all my shortfalls. We’d be here all fucking day. “The first two, well, they married a pro football player but didn’t realize that playing ball, being part of a team, wasn’t only my job but my life. I spent hours on the field and in the gym, working with my coaches and studying playbooks. Though wife number two left after my injury, knowing I would never play again.”

“Ouch. That’s harsh.”

I nodded, completely agreeing, though why should I have expected her to stick around when I needed her support when I was never there in our marriage before the injury? “And basically, the same thing happened with wife number three, but slightly different. That time I was married to this job and didn’t have time for her. At least that’s what she told me all the fucking time.”

“Same,” he grumbled. “Especially now, flying across the country, spending weeks away from home. I can’t even have a fucking dog.”

“That’s why I have a cat.”

Jameson’s hands froze, the papers dropping from his loose hold.

Ah shit. I just admitted that.What was it about this fucker that had me opening up? I hadn’t talked this much in a twelve-hour period since maybe high school.

“You. Have a cat.” I nodded carefully while he studied me. A slow smile pulled at his lips as he shook his head. “Damn, I did not see that coming.”

“Does that mean something about my mental state?” Because I loved that damn moody-ass cat. We gave each other space but knew the other was there if we ever got the urge to interact.

“Nah. Now if you had a bird or something….” He gave me a worried look, making us both laugh.

Tossing the papers aside, he pulled out the office chair and plopped down, the pictures and murder board forgotten for now. “Please tell me this pussy’s name is something adorable, like Snickers or Sprinkles.” I sealed my lips together and worked my jaw back and forth, which only made his howl of responding laughter echo around the office. “Oh fuck, this is officially my new favorite assignment.”

“It’s Sneakers because he’s all black—” I narrowed my eyes at his laughing ass. “—like my soul, except for his paws, which are white. But I normally call him Sneaks. When I see him, anyway. He’s fairly antisocial.”

“And you don’t think you’re made for relationships,” he chuckled. Twisting one way, then the other, he tilted his head, studying me. “Or maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.”

“No, the sex was fucking phenomenal. I wasn’t doing that wrong.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that bit of unsolicited information, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m saying the relationship as a whole. Maybe you’re like me. I realized early on that I’m first married to what I do. It’s part of me, so I’ll never give what a relationship needs to make it work. Alone, that is.”

Alone? What the fuck did that mean? Of course, he wasn’t alone if he was in a relationship.

“So, nothing long term,” I clarified. “No commitment, just a bunch of one-night stands to get your rocks off, not really caring who the person is.” Which was fine, no judgment. But recently I wanted more than that, even though I knew long term wasn’t in the cards. Maybe when I retired, I would finally settle down with someone special.

“Yep.” Jameson popped theP, still twisting in his seat.

“That means if you pursue Rain, you’ll do that to her. Use her while you’re here.” I didn’t like that. Not at all.

Would the FBI notice if an agent went missing?

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