Dirty (23 page)

 
I couldn’t say the visit was completely unexpected but like the monthly one I still got entirely too regularly I could have done without it.

“I thought I made it clear to you that Willis is
my
asset.
 
You’re way out of your league on this one, Mercer.”

FBI Special Agent Terrence Brooks looked madder than hell and ready to kick anyone’s ass that got in his way.
 
Lucky for me I had no interest in him or his way.

I sat propped on the edge of my desk, having just started out the door for lunch with Mom when he barged in.
 
Before responding to his hideously unoriginal announcement I decided to see if I could make him nervous first.

Taking my time while he steamed I surveyed him from head to toe.
 
I remembered well the hand-tooled leather shoes.
 
The thousand-dollar suit was a different color, navy this time, but the designer name was probably the same or similar—one most regular people couldn’t afford to pronounce.
 
Crisply starched shirt, coordinating tie. And a fresh haircut. You could see the lighter skin around his neck revealed by the slightly shorter length.
 
I hope he didn’t go to all that trouble just for me.

Nah.
 
Brooks was a Fed.
 
It was his job to look like he owned the world.
 
Did I mention that I dated a Fed once?
 
Way back.
 
Warren Rayburn didn’t count because I hadn’t known he was a Fed when I slept with him and besides he was DEA.
 
Those guys were a whole different breed of Fed.
 
The one federally employed investigator I dated, local FBI like Brooks, had turned me off the spit polished segment of men once and for all.
 
But that was another story and since I was supposed to be going to lunch I didn’t want to lose my appetite by recalling it.

“I should haul you in right now for obstruction of justice,” Brooks threatened when I kept quiet too long or maybe I’d succeeded in my quest and he was just nervous.

I pushed off my desk, squared my shoulders and stared him right in the eye.
 
“I’m not trying to obstruct anything, Brooks.”
 
I set my hands on my hips.
 
The move had him giving me the once over for the second time since his arrival.

You know, I didn’t get up this morning with dressing to impress in mind.
 
Okay, maybe I did that every morning.
 
But I hadn’t actually considered that Brooks would show up.
 
Well, there was that remote possibility since Dawson had decked Willis.
 
To hell with it.
 
I’d picked this outfit for one purpose only—to make sure I looked damn good if the Fed showed up.
 
I liked showing off my own
assets
and watching him drool despite his every effort not to.

The hot pink mini had a little split in the back that kept most men looking long after I’d walked away.
 
The matching three-quarter sleeve Napoleon style waist jacket worked as both a blouse and a jacket, but today I’d decided to wear a white scoop neck short-sleeved blouse under it that fit like a second skin and showed off the lacy top of my Victoria’s Secret bra.
 
The mega high heel thong sandals were Prada knock-offs but no one knew the difference but me—and Donna, and Shari, and Mary Jane.
 
You may have noticed a theme here with the knock-off shoes.
 
The Christian Louboutins are my only authentic designer ones and I try not to wear them too often.
 
I want them to last longer than my relationships usually do.

“Your felon showed up at my door,” I reminded.
 
“The only thing I did was tell him to get lost.”
 
No way was I going to admit that, in all truth, I would miss the sex.
 
His impromptu visit had proven the attraction was still there.
 
The lying jerk and I had shared an amazing night.
 
Funny, I considered.
 
The best sex, in my experience, had always been the one-night stands.
 
Maybe I was in the wrong business.

Brooks took what I’m certain he presumed to be an intimidating step closer.
 
“Willis has a fractured jaw where your
boy
slugged him.
 
I could press charges.”

I felt reasonably certain the term boy wouldn’t sit well with Dawson but I didn’t bother going into that.
 
“Dawson only got involved when your
boy
,” I shot right back, “put his hands on me.”

“Gee, Mercer,” Brooks said facetiously as his gaze performed another sweep of my body, “I had you pegged as a tough lady.
 
One who could take care of herself without the aid of a man. I never suspected you for the type who needed rescuing.”

Now he’d done it.
 
Gone and pissed me off again.
 
I leaned in a little closer as if what I had to say next were intensely private and for his ears only.
 
“Actually...”
 
I looked deeply into his eyes, this close I didn’t miss the little blue specks being angry brought out in the gray, and whispered, “I can take care of myself but I like watching guys get stupid.
 
It turns me on.”

His face twisted with fury and maybe a little something else he’d just as soon not confess, but I didn’t miss the flare of awareness in those eyes.
 
He was really kind of cute.
 
“You keep your boy away from my asset,” he growled rather uncutely.
 
“Or I’ll make him wish he’d learned how to mind his own business back in the Big Apple.”

“That boy,” I said just as hotly and with no fear whatsoever of the consequences, “is my partner.
 
You mess with him, you mess with me and I’ll make you wish you’d minded your own business before you were born.
 
Trust me, Brooks,” I tagged on for good measure, “I know how.”

“I’ll just bet you do.”
 
He drew back slightly just to make sure I got the full effect of his smug smirk.
 
“If you’re smart, Mercer, you’ll realize you’re in way over your head.”

With that final warning, Brooks executed an about face and strode out of my office.
 
My heart jerked to a breath-stealing stop when he paused to glare at Dawson who just happened to be standing in front of Hobbs’ desk.
 
For three absent beats of my heart the two men stared at each other.
 
I saw Dawson’s fists clench even tighter or maybe I imagined they had.

To my extreme relief Brooks walked out and Dawson let him, allowing my heart to start beating again before I passed out from lack of oxygen.

Both Dawson and Hobbs marched straight into my office, my assistant looking concerned, my partner giving the impression he might just detonate any second.
 
I appreciated the gesture but his desire to protect me felt way out of proportion with how long we’d known each other.

“Well,” Hobbs harrumphed, “you told him.”

I did indeed.
 
But I wasn’t entirely sure I had succeeded on any level.
 
His final piece of advice kept ringing in my ears.
 
You’re in way over your head
.
 
How did he know what case I was currently working on?
 
When had he decided to check out Dawson?
 
Then it hit me.
 
Chief Cates had likely given him an update.
 
The two appeared to be pals.

“I want to check out Brooks,” Dawson said, his chiseled jaw tight with rage.

“Let’s not go off half cocked, Dawson,” I countered, still not sure I wanted anyone digging around in this case but me.
 
Whether it was about trust or the intimacy of the whole thing with Rayburn, I didn’t know yet.

I’d pretty much kept Dawson out of the loop until last night.
 
Since Hobbs was as horrified of snakes as me, I’d had no choice but to call Dawson to come take the reptile away.
 
It was either that or call animal containment which would have been like emailing HPD about the incident.
 
I had no intention of giving them any more ammunition.
 
Nance was already sniffing around like a bloodhound on steroids.

I shuddered at the memory of finding the cold blooded wiggler in my bed.
 
The snake, not Nance.
 
It hadn’t even been poisonous.
 
Harmless, Dawson had called it.
 
Hobbs and I had exchanged uncertain looks but, in the end, we’d recognized (after a quick search on Google) that Dawson was correct.
 
Poison or not, I didn’t like finding anything in my bed that wasn’t either operated by batteries or testosterone.
 
Admittedly I’d had a snake or two in my bed, but this was the first one capable of shedding his skin.

“I’m part of this agency, Jackie,” Dawson pressed.
 
“I want in all the way.”

I shuddered again, this time at his words.
 
I had to stop letting that double entendre thing control my thought processes.
 
Resisting the urge to shake my head in defeat, I took a deep breath and said what had to be said.
 
“You’re right.”

My assistant’s eyes widened at my confession.
 
I cut him a look that said
stow it
before he could open his mouth.

With complete sincerity I threw up my hands and took the final dive.
 
“I don’t know what Hobbs and I would have done without you last night.”
 
I had to smile.
 
“That you fractured Willis’s jaw gives you high marks in my book.”

Dawson didn’t look amused.

Get serious, Jackie.
 
The guy deserved better than that.
 
“You’re my partner, Dawson.
 
I promise I’ll play fair from now on.”
 
I stuck out my hand to seal the deal.

Dawson looked from me to my hand and back before accepting the gesture.
 
“Thanks.”

I think he said more but my ability to hear or pay attention was suddenly overridden by the feel of his big, strong hand—the same one that had knocked Willis off his feet—wrapped around mine.

My gaze shot up to his.
 
I blinked, drew my hand away and grabbed back control just in time to manage a look of approval, one that didn’t include any sexual undertones.

“You might be onto something,” I allowed as I folded my arms in front of me to keep my hands occupied and to hide my attentive nipples.
 
“Brooks has been around awhile.
 
I haven’t worked with him before, but that doesn’t mean he’s new.
 
Check him out.
 
See if he was part of that joint task force working Disposable.”
 
He’d certainly made it clear he didn’t want me nosing into the subject.
 
Or maybe he’d meant Willis and whatever op the two had going.
 
Yet somehow, his words had felt exactly like a threat about my current case...about Disposable.
 
But like I said before, paranoia goes with this business.

“I have some new information on Rayburn,” Dawson said out of the blue.

The frown already digging into my brow deepened.
 
“What kind of information?”
 
And why hadn’t he told me this?
 
Maybe he’d been on his way to do just that when Brooks arrived.
 
He’s my partner, I reminded.
 
No jumping to conclusions.
 
Give the man the benefit of the doubt.
 
I didn’t question his source since he was an ex cop with his share of connections.

“Warren Rayburn was a rogue DEA agent,” Dawson explained.
 
“He was on the verge of being suspended when he disappeared.
 
No body was actually found.
 
But he’s considered dead.”

This changed everything.
 
According to what Max had found Rayburn died the day after we...but that might or might not be the case if no body was recovered.
 
Could he be the one sending me these messages?
 
I couldn’t believe he would do that.
 
What was I saying?
 
I didn’t actually know the man, not like that.
 
Even if it was him, what did he hope to accomplish?
 
What was his motive?

Rogue.
 
Missing.
 
No body found.
 
What the hell happened here ten years ago?
 
That was the real question.

“He supposedly went missing the same day Masters and Reagan were gunned down,” I said, a thought spoken, my lungs empty of air...my nerves jangling in anticipation.
 
This whole case just got more and more bizarre.

Dawson nodded.
 
“Looks that way.
 
But, my source believes the DEA listed him as deceased as of that date to keep the Feds from looking dirty.”

As paranoid as it sounded that explanation made sense.
 
No Fed liked getting caught with his pants down.

“Since the gunman was never identified,” Dawson went on.
 
“I guess it’s possible that Rayburn was the shooter.
 
Maybe Disposable wasn’t ever supposed to go to trial.”

I didn’t agree.
 
I might not have known his name until yesterday but I knew the man I’d slept with that night.
 
He wasn’t a killer.
 
Not that kind anyway.
 
“No way.
 
He was no assassin.”