Scrubbing his hand over his five o'clock shadow, he shot a canny look at Jack. "Feel up to sweet-talking that computer of yours tonight?"
Cool excitement flickered in Jack's eyes. "She's a bitch, but I can usually persuade her to cooperate." He pulled a notepad and pen from his jacket. "Shoot."
"I want information on Agnes Irene Beckett."
Addison's heart stuttered at the mention of her birth mother—and the possibility that Randall had new information.
He continued. "I want to know everything about her. Arrest record, past marriages, hospitalizations, births, anything you can find. Check Ohio and Indiana state records along with the Ohio counties of Preble, Darke, and Montgomery."
Jack scribbled on the pad, smiling the way a boy smiles in the minutes before a forbidden, but very fun game. "I hope you're not going to ask me for anything difficult."
"Have you ever tapped into adoption records?"
"No, but that doesn't mean it can't be done."
“That's what I thought. I left everything I've got on your desk."
Addison listened to the exchange, aware of her heart beating wildly in her chest. "What have you found out?" she asked Randall.
Jack already had his coat on and was wheeling toward the door. "Give me a few hours."
Addison reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you."
He reached the door and backed up to open it, nearly running over her in his haste. Before he could escape, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Grinning, Jack wheeled into the hall.
She turned, anxious to talk to Randall. He stopped her with a single look from those perpetually angry eyes.
"What?" she asked cautiously.
"Don't tease him like that," he said with dangerous ease.
Addison stared at him, speechless. "I hope you're not insinuating what I think—"
"He's in a wheelchair, for chrissake."
The anger came with such vehemence she nearly choked on it. "It was an innocent peck on the cheek!"
"He doesn't need you laying kisses on him, making him want something he can't ever have.”
"How dare you accuse me of something so sick!" Had there been something within arm's reach, she would have thrown it at him. Since there wasn't, she used the next best thing: her voice. "You son of a bitch."
"Don't—"
"I can't deal with you. I won't."
"Addison—"
"I'll deal with Jack. I want you to leave. Now, damn you." The words tangled in her throat. "In fact, you're ... fired. I'll send your check to your office."
"It hurts him," he said levelly. "He's been through enough."
The look in his eyes deflated her temper so quickly, she could only stand there and stare stupidly at him. "I would never hurt—"
"I didn't say you meant to. I just asked you not to do it again."
"I don't appreciate the insinuation."
“There was no insinuation."
Feeling misunderstood and angry, she shoved past him into the living room, not exactly sure what to do next.
"Look," he said from behind her. "I didn't mean for that to come out the way it did. I didn't mean for it to hit you the wrong way. But I know Jack."
She turned to face him. "He's a human being. Human beings need to be touched. To—”
"He's a man, Addison, with too much pride."
"You're overprotective."
"I'm his brother. I know him."
She studied his harsh features, realizing belatedly that he was sincere—and not nearly as angry as she was. It irked her that he could make her so damn irate, so damn quickly. Jack was easy to be with. Addison liked him. But the moment he'd left, and she was alone with Randall, something had shifted. A keen awareness that changed everything despite her efforts not to let it.
"Why did you lie to me about how long you've been working with Jack?" she asked.
An emotion she couldn't name flashed in his eyes. "Jack gave you an earful, did he?"
"No. He said to ask you."
"He's always had more integrity than me."
"Why did you lie to me, Randall?"
His eyes met hers and held them unflinchingly. "What do you want to know?"
''The truth, if you can manage it."
"All right. I'm on leave from another job. I came here to spend some time with Jack. End of story. That's the extent of my dirty little secret. Disappointed?"
Addison didn't believe it was that simple. "Your job at the NTSB?"
He blinked. It was the first time she'd surprised him, and she found herself oddly pleased when he looked down at his boots. "You want to hear about that, too?"
"I'm just curious why you lied to me. Maybe it's not important. Maybe it is. I was hoping you'd tell me."
A shadow darkened his features. He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm a crash site investigator, Ace. A field investigator. I'm the guy who gets there first when a plane drops out of the sky." He smiled unpleasantly. "I get to see it all. If you're morbidly curious like most other people I've met, we could spend it few hours together and I'll give you all the juicy details."