The venom in Lance’s voice shocked me. I sat forward slowly, focusing on him. “For both. Is that a problem?”
He shook his head and disappeared behind the cloth divider, but I wouldn’t be that easily put off. For months, he had been my only friend here. And now, was he turning his back on me? Or had I turned my back on him?
I hadn’t meant to abandon him when I got this assignment. I’d been busy as hell, and Lance had been working in the same conference room for most of the time. But we didn’t have the private talks over the cubicle walls anymore. And if Lance were a little jealous of me getting to do fieldwork, it would only be natural. After all, he’d started here before me.
So why had I gotten the assignment?
I shook the thought away and focused on the problem at hand. Namely, Lance, resolutely staring at his desk as if it held the answers to the universe instead of his timesheet.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I need your help with something, if you’re up for it.”
He tilted his head without looking at me. “Help with what?”
“It’s for the case. But Hennessey wouldn’t approve.” That got his attention. “He might be mad, actually. So you can’t tell him. It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.”
When he turned, he had a faint smile. “Let’s go. You can fill me in on the way.”
“You sure you aren’t worried about Hennessey?”
A snort. “He can kiss my ass.”
Definitely jealous.
Though it occurred to me for the first time that maybe he wasn’t only jealous of my assignment. The quiet talks, the lunches spent together, the casual invitations to a weekend movie if I didn’t have anything else to do. If I wasn’t mistaken, Lance had a crush on me.
Shit. I hadn’t realized it, because I never thought of him that way. It was fine, I supposed, as long as he knew nothing would come of it. Not on this field trip, certainly. Not ever. I suspected he’d come along to piss off Hennessey more than anything. That was fine too. A little professional competition never hurt anybody.
The raid was tomorrow night. We had planned it down to the minute. Since tomorrow would be a long, exhausting day, we’d all been dismissed early. Go home, get some sleep. Officially the goal was to make sure the agents were well-rested for a raid, not edging toward exhaustion. Unofficially, a grim undertone reminded us that everyone might not make it through.
We maintained every safety protocol from full shields to tight formations on entry, but these situations were always chaotic. Or so I had heard. This would be my first raid.
And hopefully not my last.
CHAPTER SIX
A woman knelt over a flower bed as Lance pulled us up to the curb. The brakes squeaked, and she looked up, raising a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A slatted straw hat obscured her face, but I got the impression of a slender, graceful form. I stepped out of the car, and Lance did the same, both of us careful to shut our doors softly, the noise barely disturbing the soothing strains of a large wind chime. The white wraparound porch presented a picturesque view of domestic tranquility.
So this was Carlos’s prostitute. Or was she his mistress? Girlfriend? None of the words seemed to fit her. She was pretty in an understated way, not at all the sort of woman I’d imagined consorting with a major criminal. But then, looks could be deceiving. I was a testament to that. She and I both had a petite frame and pale, milky skin that contrasted sharply with thick brown locks. It made men think we were innocent. In both cases, apparently, they were wrong.
The screen door twanged, and a man appeared. Before we could reach Mia Palermo, he stood in front of her. This was in the files too. Her husband. A former FBI agent. Did he know what she’d done? Who she’d done it with? He must have. And yet here he was, standing in front of her, protecting her from unexpected FBI agents. I knew that stance with innate recognition. He’d do anything to keep her safe; he’d take a bullet for her. It was love.
“Ms. Palermo,” Lance began.
“Martinez,” the man corrected, none too kindly. “You can address her as Mrs. Martinez, if I let you address her at all.”
Lance raised an eyebrow. I could tell he was annoyed at the man’s brusque tone, but making the guy mad would get us nowhere.
“Mr. Martinez,” I said. “If you could spare a minute of your time. We’re from the local branch—”
“I know where you’re from. I could smell you a mile away. What I don’t know is why you’re bothering me.”
Bothering her, he meant. His broad shoulders almost blocked her from view. My heart clenched at the show of protectiveness, of possession. What would it feel like to have someone love you like that? To have them know all your worst secrets and want you anyway?