“What?” The question left my lips at the exact same time as Hennessey’s. We both stared at Brody, me in confusion and Hennessy in irritation. I could guess why Hennessey was mad, the big shot getting stuck with the rookie. The cause of my own annoyance was a little murkier.
I had been working here six months. HR had contacted me just last week with some forms I’d neglected to fill out on hiring. NEW was practically stamped on my forehead, but Brody was assigning me to a high-profile case? Even Lance had gotten here a month before me. It sounded fishy as hell, like some sort of equal opportunity mandate, putting a woman—any woman—in the field to cover their asses. I didn’t want a pity assignment, even if it was my only chance.
Brody shrugged, unfazed. “Until such time as Carlos is apprehended or terminated, you two are going to be partners.”
“Whose decision was this?” Hennessey asked tightly.
“Mine.” Brody’s gaze sharpened. “And the director’s. You’re free to take this over my head, but I think we both know you won’t.”
Hennessey swung away, staring out the window, radiating displeasure. He wasn’t sightseeing now. He was pissed. “Does she even know what happened to the last guy?”
And now I had that to worry about. What the hell had happened to the last guy? And the last guy of what?
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Brody said with equanimity.
Hennessey laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh.
A shiver ran through me.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Brody said, as if this were some sort of date.
In a way, it was. The arranged marriage of law enforcement partnerships. Brody shot Hennessey a glance I couldn’t quite dissect before standing. Envy, maybe. As a supervisor, he could only assign the cases, not work them. And something else…a hint of concern. Concern for who, though? Does she even know what happened to the last guy? Shit.
Brody paused on his way out, speaking low enough for my ears only. “If you want out, tell me now. I’ll speak to the director.”
Gratitude pierced my growing worry. The biggest opportunity of my career, of any career with the Bureau, and here he was giving me a choice. I wouldn’t let him down. I wouldn’t let myself down. “No, sir. Happy to be here.”
He nodded, granting me a rare look of approval. “Be careful.” He glanced back at Hennessy. “And watch out for him, will you? He doesn’t realize he’s getting old.”
I suppressed the laugh that wanted to escape and managed a quick nod. Clearly there was some competitiveness between them. That was common enough around here. And I could see why he felt threatened by this man. Anyone would.
Hennessy cut a striking form against the window’s glow, but the silver streaking his honey-brown hair at his temples proved he was older than me. Much older, in both years and experience. Despite the obvious differences between my new partner and me, it felt good to be part of the club. A sense of contentment and happiness swelled inside me. However it had come about, this gig would lift me out of the professional gutter in a way that coffee runs and paper filing had never done.
The door closed me in with an audible click. My walk across the carpet, however, didn’t make a sound. Years of rigorous training, both inside the academy and out, had left me as agile as any practiced field agent. Still, I felt sure he tracked my every movement, effortlessly, with the kind of awareness born of experience. How long had he been an agent? Ten years, twenty? Criminals had shot at him, tried to blow him up, paid money to assassinate him. Any agent with a resume like his would have been a target. His survival gave testament to his skill.
Eyes the color of sheet metal stared at the window, unseeing. Small imperfections marred a handsome face: a slight curve of his nose where it had broken, a small scar on his chin. A line of white scar tissue split a brown eyebrow. He’d done more than evade these criminals; he’d fought them.
“You should’ve taken him up on his offer,” he said quietly.
Brody, he meant. Had he heard the low conversation we’d exchanged? Or did he just deduce what was being said? It didn’t matter.
“I’m not interested in his offer. I want this case.”
“You have no idea what this case is even about, rookie.”
Questions sat on the tip of my tongue. So what’s the case about, then? When can we get started? But only one came out.
“What happened to the last guy?”
That finally got his full attention. He looked at me, and I felt the gaze of his gunmetal eyes like a blow. It stole my breath and rendered me speechless. He looked me up and down. His mouth set in a flat line, unimpressed by my gender, my youth, or maybe the pink blouse I wore. Whatever he saw, it made him answer.
“He died. The last time I went after Carlos Laguardia, my partner died. A punk kid who thought he could bring down a monster.”
His words and his tone challenged me. Run away, they said. But I heard the desolation beneath the warning. Whatever family or friends the punk kid might have had, this man had mourned him. Hennessy might be a ruthless agent, but he cared about his partners.