“I’m not on pain pills,” she said. “After today, I need this beer.”
Alex looked everywhere but at Matt. Her grandmother put two plates full of spaghetti and homemade sauce with meatballs on the table in front of them. Alex’s mouth watered.
“Where’s your plate?” Alex asked, half panicked. She really didn’t want to be alone with Matt.
“You don’t need me to eavesdrop,” her grandmother said. She put a beer in front of Matt, fresh grated parmesan cheese in the middle of the table, and warm sourdough bread next to the cheese. “I’m leaving, so I’m counting on you, Mr. Elliott, to make sure my granddaughter eats.”
Alex kissed her grandma on the cheek. “I love you, Mimi.”
Her grandma squeezed her uninjured arm. “I’m relieved you’re okay, sweetheart.” Then she left.
Matt Elliott stared at the plate. It was clear he wasn’t expecting food.
“Eat it, or you’ll hurt her feelings and then I’ll have to kill you,” Alex said.
“I’m sorry your dad put you on the spot, but I really need to talk to you.”
“Whatever.” She avoided eye contact.
She ate because she was hungry. She wasn’t going to ask why Matt wanted to speak with her. She was curious, but wasn’t going to let him know how curious she was, so she kept her mouth full.
At first bite, she remembered that she’d been too nervous about the interview to eat more than a couple bites of a muffin with her coffee this morning. And then came the assassination attempt, getting shot, chasing the suspect, talking to Jim, and then being stuck at the hospital for hours. Thankfully, Matt kept his mouth shut—except to eat.
She eyed him discreetly. He looked good. Of course he did. He was born to wear a suit, even though he’d taken off the jacket and loosened his tie. He always dressed well when in court, but she’d also seen him during his free time. He looked just as good in jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe better.
He was smart. Alex had always liked smart guys. They just didn’t always like her. She was street smart. She could hold her own in a conversation, but she wasn’t like her dad. She wasn’t what people called “well-educated.” She didn’t do fabulous in school—good enough to get into UC Davis, but she had a feeling that was more to due with the fact that her father was an alum. And, she was an athlete. She’d played soccer in college, not because she wanted to but because it made the four years bearable. She didn’t graduate with any honors, but she’d done okay.
The police academy—that was another story. She excelled, because she wanted it. She didn’t ace every test, but she scored well and graduated in the top ten percent. Because she’d played soccer since she was five, the physical tests were easy. She didn’t love running, but she was good at it. She’d been a goalie, which meant she wasn’t afraid of getting dirty or getting hit.
Matt was smart. Not just a lawyer, but a top lawyer, graduating from a top law school after serving a few years in the Navy Seals. He’d been elected to the State Senate at one point, but left after one term. He’d been the elected D.A. for the last three years.
She’d trusted Matt. Not just because of his background, but because he was her father’s friend. He was a prosecutor who thought the same about justice as she did. He was, basically, a good guy. When she was confronted with Tommy Cordell’s corruption, she didn’t know who else to go to. Internal Affairs? Absolutely not. Her boss? Hell, no. Her dad? She’d considered that ... but he would have either told her to talk to Matt or to go to IA. Matt seemed like a good idea at the time.
It wasn’t completely Matt’s fault that she’d been burned. She’d let herself be used by Matt and the FBI. She’d sought Matt out in the first place and told him about her partner. She’d been willing—reluctantly—to work with the FBI when Matt brought them in. She hadn’t told him no, keep them out—because his argument about why they needed to be involved was valid. And they’d already had an open investigation into Rykov, so she was just part of something that already existed.
It was your choice, your decision. Live with it.
At least she was alive. Her life might be a mess, but being dead would have been a lot worse.
She was about to get up to clear the plates, when Matt put his hand over hers. “I’ll do it,” he said.
She almost objected, but decided why volunteer to rinse dishes if there was someone else willing to do it?
Matt cleared their plates, rinsed them, and stacked them on the counter. Alex went back to the refrigerator, retrieved two beers and handed one to Matt. “Okay, spill, because I’m tired, have a full stomach, and plan to crash as soon as I can get these clothes off.” She shut her mouth. That was not an appropriate thing to say.