Rook waved, but Agent Bell had her head canted down in the classic texting pose in the backseat of her Yukon as the driver whisked her off on West 82nd. “That was nice of you to walk Yardley out,” he said. But when he turned back and registered the stony face of Nikki Heat staring at him, he furrowed his brow. “What?”
“I came out here because I don’t want to have this conversation in a fishbowl.”
Now it was his turn to turn pale. “We’re going to have a…conversation?”
She jerked her head eastward and started off toward Columbus Avenue. Within three of Nikki’s long, angry strides Rook was beside her, keeping pace. “What is wrong with you?” she said.
“OK, less of a conversation and more of an appraisal of my deficiencies. Am I right?”
“What do you know, Rook? You do have some social radar, after all.”
“Enough to know we have now transitioned into pre-argument mode.”
She came to a halt at the corner. “Will you stop? Put a sock in the stupid banter for one second and talk to me.”
He reflected a moment. “I think I had better just listen instead.”
“Good idea.” Nikki waited for a twin stroller to go by, a sleeping one-year-old on one side, a grinning pug on the other. “I don’t know what’s going on. You have been pushing every button of mine you can push the past few days. You’re keeping secrets, you’re hassling me about spending one night in my apartment, and now what do you do? Spring a surprise visit on me from your old flame.”
“Where the hell is all this coming from?”
“My feelings, exactly.”
Rook worked his jaw a little. “May I respond?”
“Love to hear it.”
“This idea you have that I am keeping secrets is, well, it’s ancient history. I had my reasons, but didn’t I share?”
“Because I threatened you with jail.”
“Never the sign of a healthy relationship, to state the obvious, but the point is, I opened up.” His eyes rolled skyward while he retrieved his second point. “Oh, and the apartment. Didn’t I relent and stay anyway?”
“It’s not only about that one night.”
“It was to me. I had plausible safety concerns following the breakin by that stalker you picked up.” He winced. “Wait, that came out wrong.”
“Are you actually suggesting I chose to have Maloney follow me?”
“No, no, no, of course not. It’s just something that happened, I get it. You hang out at the circus, you’re going to meet a few bearded ladies.”
Nikki cocked her head back. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s an analogy.” Rook held out one open hand. “Here is Lon King’s shrink practice—aka: the circus.” He held up his other in balance. “Maloney here is the bearded lady.”
“That not only unfairly characterizes psychotherapy and patients, it’s callous to me.”
Seeing that he was only digging himself deeper into his hole, he said, “Maybe we should move on to Agent Bell.”
“‘Yards.’” The nickname had been roiling at the back of her throat and she spat it out. Petty, but sometimes petty feels awfully good.
“This is the easiest one to defend,” he said. “We are shorthanded and oversubscribed on account of the cyber attack, plus you are taxed to the gills with your new administrative duties. I saw nothing wrong with being proactive and getting a consult from a top intel insider. It’s just the way I work a story.”
“Revealing choice of words. Your story versus our case.”
“Semantics. We’re in this together.”
“Are we? It feels more like parallel play.” Nikki could have left it there. Some instinct told her she was overwrought and should just cool off and disengage. It felt too much like the night when she gave Rook a rooftop baptism with a shot glass of Patrón.
But then Rook said, “I know what this is. You’re jealous of my old girlfriend,” and a smoldering ember inside Nikki flared as he continued. “Which I sure as hell thought you’d be past by now. And you should be. You may look at Yardley and see hot, dynamic, and fun. I see a disconnect from emotional access that I couldn’t handle. Yards and I are over.”
“I am not jealous of her.”
“Good. Then what is this tension? The promotion?”
“Are you serious?”