Aftermath (13 page)

As if considering his words, she glanced at McKenna, who was still in conversation with Max and his current date. “Am I the worst friend ever if I say yes?”

Hope sprung in his chest. And, if they weren’t surrounded by dozens of people, he might have given a nerdy fist pump. “Not the worst. Close to the top. Right under me.”

A smile lit her face. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”

Was it that easy? All this time he’d been picking out the perfect words when he’d needed only himself. “Do we just duck out?”

“Now, I see why you top the list. There’s a way to handle these things.” Amanda moved toward her friend. Wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we’re gonna take off.”

“We?” McKenna’s gaze flicked to him. As if she’d orchestrated the entire night, she tucked a smile out of sight. Maybe she had.

Amanda wasn’t wrong about giving that one ideas. Right now, any she employed were working in his favor, so he couldn’t complain.

“I’m excited for you guys.” Amanda pulled back. “See you later, okay?”

“Sure.” McKenna nodded as if the idea
had
been hers.

Had he announced they were leaving, there would have been questions. Followed by a don’t-screw-this-up speech. He probably needed it. Along with a step-by-step organizer filled with do’s and don’ts for getting life back on track with a certain detective.

Amanda left the group and made it back to his side, but didn’t stop. “Move, Robbie. Before she gets bossy and tries to meddle.”

Right. He gave them a wave and followed her outside of the bar. A bit of humidity still hung in the air, but it wasn’t as bad as full-fledged summer temps.

Jordan guided Saragosa into a taxi, closed the door and turned. The vehicle pulled away from the curb. “Are you leaving?”

“It’s been a long day,” he said.

Jordan nodded. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s hammered.”

“No worries, man.”

Jordan shook his head as if he wouldn’t believe a word Robinson said right now. “I checked in with Gates a few minutes ago. Lilly, Ariana and Riley are all fine. Both the girls fell asleep on the couch watching The Little Mermaid. Lilly’s reading.” Jordan pulled out his phone, pressed a few buttons and handed it over.

A shot of the Bening living room was in view. Riley was curled in a ball on one corner of the couch, a cute, pink blanket in her clutches.

Ariana slept in the opposite corner, her head in Lilly’s lap and sling still in place. A blanket was more on the floor than his niece. One of Lilly’s hands rested on her daughter’s head, a book balancing on the arm of the couch. The lamp cast a glow over her. Concentration covered her brow.

Amanda leaned near him to get a better view. A hint of wild flowers drifted over him. “When’s the last time she did anything besides stare into space?”

Before today, it had been a while. And he’d tried hard to change it. Didn’t know what else he could do to convince his sister she needed to pick up the pieces of her life and live.

He shook his head. Didn’t want to think about it. Not with Amanda standing so close, her scent both teasing and calming. The feather-light touch of her arm against his shot all sorts of ideas into his head.

On the monitor, Lilly flipped a page, adjusted a notepad and pen. Scribbled something on the yellow surface.

“She’s reading a medical journal about comas?” Amanda glanced at him then. As if she realized how close they stood, she moved a few inches away. “For herself or...”

Jonas. Why the sudden interest? “How long do you figure we have before the press gets wind of a bigger story with our SBI agent?”

Jordan crossed his arms. “Hard to say. I’m sure one or two nurses went home and told their husbands or wives about it. The guy lost a kidney. Has his jaw wired shut. Two bruised ribs, a broken arm and one sprained ankle. Probably won’t ever take his shirt off again. When he wakes up, he’s gonna hurt worse than ever before.”

All because of the savage beating he’d taken prior to Ariana’s presence on scene and after. He’d fended off men, in a weakened state, so Robinson’s niece had a chance at escape.

He cleared thickness from his throat. There was no way Robinson would ever be able to repay the man. Even figuring out who’d committed this act would only touch the tip of the iceberg.

Jonas would be lucky to make it through the night, but Jordan wouldn’t ever say that. He’d been a glass-half-full guy most of his life. More so in the last few years.

The truth was the same no matter how Robinson looked at it. Jonas wouldn’t survive a second attack. And they couldn’t afford to wait around for evil to wallop them all across the face.

As if she knew his thoughts, Amanda shook her head. “We don’t know why this happened. Director Stotts isn’t going to approve placement in a safe house and the hours of paperwork that takes. Not without some concrete evidence. You know how he is. He’ll take the meager facts you have and convince everyone it was a random event. An interrupted mugging.”

Muggers didn’t usually stick around to beat someone senseless after they had what they wanted. Even though it
appeared
as if nothing of value had been taken, didn’t make it true. Only Jonas knew for sure. “It’s not random. Can I prove it? Not yet, but I will.”

As if she had horrible news, she locked eyes with him and opened her mouth.

“Hey, guys. Look who I found.” McKenna stepped up to them, the smile on her face a little off. Behind her, a tall man with dark hair and eyes grinned. The maroon polo shirt, he wore, was tucked into a dark pair of jeans, the top button undone. The street light glinted off the silver watch on his left hand.

He looked semi-familiar.

Robinson had noticed him sitting at the bar with a group of friends who were nowhere in sight now. The other man had thrown a few glances in their direction, during the short time Robinson had been inside. Not at any one of them in particular. And nothing that had raised any red flags.

“Long time, no see.” As if they’d been friends who’d lost touch, his voice held a hint of good-natured amusement.

“Hi, Sam.” Jordan didn’t extend a hand or offer a smile. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

Huh.

“Sam.” Amanda said, in that careful way she reserved for people she didn’t like or trust.

Definitely missing something, here. Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. Stood straight and didn’t look at all rattled by this man’s appearance. Not like the irritation sliding over McKenna’s features.

Unlikeable-Sam ran a hand across his chin. Even in the dim light, Robinson could make out the scrapes across his knuckles. They were raw and red. Definitely new.

“You’re a warm bunch. Glad to see the musketeers are alive and well.” The pointer finger on that injured hand waggled toward their group, the rest of his fingers curled inward. As if he were a teacher reprimanding his social studies class. A sly smile caught the corner of his mouth. “Let me guess. You’re all cops.” The last bit came out as if he viewed it as the equivalent of working in the sewer.

Some days it came close, but Robinson wouldn’t have it any other way. He took pride in knowing he was one part of a large group of men and women protecting America’s freedoms.

A scoff came from Amanda. “Jordan and McKenna wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“No?” Sam chuckled. “No more tag-along, Amanda?”

Tag along? Robinson folded his arms across his chest. Who was this schmuck?

Amanda’s lips formed a thin line. “Guess we all grow up. What happened to your hand, Sam?”

He lifted his hand to the light, palm toward them. As if seeing the marks for the first time, he squinted and then shrugged. “Working in the yard. You know how it goes.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. Wouldn’t you know it, I haven’t hit complete grown up status yet. Ergo, no yard. Maybe you can explain it to me.”

His attention snapped to her. Perhaps, he hadn’t expected this woman’s sass. Amanda remained silent, seeming content to wait out his answers.

“Did it become a crime to have a scraped hand, in this country, in the last five minutes?” Sam’s dark gaze flicked to each of them and landed back on Amanda. “Or are you so tired of chasing down drunk drivers and eating donuts you’re willing to make up your own misadventures?”

McKenna stepped forward, revulsion mixing with stark anger on her face. Jordan snagged her arm and halted her progress.

Amanda’s posture stiffened the tiniest bit. “Whatever keeps crime off the streets. You should try is sometime. The donuts are fabulous and sometimes those intoxicated drivers share their booze.”

The corner of Sam’s lip moved upward, part scowl. His gaze scanned her as if trying to determine if she were a poisonous snake. And he wasn’t sure if she’d try for a fatal bite or a mere scarring. “I think I’ll stick to keeping those young minds far from your streets and firmly in my classroom at Hershel Junior High.

Whoa.

Ariana’s school. Smarmy, Unlikeable-Sam taught impressionable kids all day?

Jordan’s gaze flicked to Robinson, a silent
let it be
written all over his face. Next to him, Amanda practically vibrated with the need to set this guy straight.

If she lunged for him, Robinson would make it look like he was doing his best to hold her back. Even give her a hand, in the end.

“Hershel, huh?” Robinson tucked his hands in his pockets. Tried to portray a mild amount of interest. Instead of the high-alert status monster jumping on his chest. “What subject?”

Unlikeable-Sam glanced in his direction as if he were a pesky student, always asking the same question. “Math.”

“Sounds rough. Teaching little, punk kids about something they will never use.” Had his niece been present, the sentence would never have left his lips. Not as much as she struggled with the subject.

The other man stood a little straighter. His jaw tightened as he raised his head toward the sky a fraction. “Spoken like someone with a minimum wage job.”

A bark of laughter took him by surprise. “Oh, you’ve got me there.”

As if he thought one of them might come to blows or worse, Jordan stepped forward. “What do you want, Sam?”

Sam turned toward him, nonchalance falling over his frame. “A guy can’t say hello to classmates?”

The sound of Amanda’s phone cut through the end of his question.

She grabbed it from her pocket and put it to her ear. “Detective Nettles.” That beautiful gaze centered on the other man, full of pride. “Got an address?” Her face never changed. “Okay. Meet you there.” The phone disappeared back to where it came from. “This has been fun. Thanks for the walk down memory lane.” Amanda turned to Robinson. “Ready?”

Always. “Lead the way.”

She turned and headed toward his SUV, parked a block north from the bar. As if she’d actually come with him instead of driving herself. Fine by him. He was versatile enough to weave normal with what-gives in a conversation.

“Hey,” Sam said. “What was the name of that foster girl your family had, junior year? Didn’t she end up being a little crazy in the head?”

Everything inside Robinson stilled. Over a year hadn’t dulled the sharp blade that encompassed Bethany Markel or the serial bombing incident they’d all dealt with. Amanda’s step faltered. To her credit, she didn’t stop. Picked up as if she’d meant to stumble.

One glance back told Robinson that Sam’s face held a victorious smile. For what?

Robinson followed Amanda. Dug his keys from his pocket. Ignored the heated edge of anger slicing through his gut.

“You’re such a dick.” McKenna’s voice drifted to them.

“What?” The incredulity in Sam’s voice hinged on McKenna’s words. As if he really had no idea.

Amanda’s arms swung in determination, her gaze centered on his vehicle. Mouth pinched tight. He should go back and show that prick what he was messing with. He didn’t even need an explanation to feel justified here. He’d take out every frustration until—

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Amanda’s voice held the cut of anger. “Please. Not tonight.”

He was starting to hate the phrase. “That guy has never touched a garden hose, much less a rake or shovel. There’s no way. Been a smarmy bastard all his life? That I believe. Probably born with a damn silver spoon shoved up his—”

“Robbie.” At the passenger side door of his SUV, she stopped. Took a breath. “A couple of college kids came across the body of a girl. Description fits Kimberly Rose.”

CHAPTER NINE

SAM RICHARDSON—A crush Amanda had entertained as a teen—was the least of her problems. His words were the pathetic attempt at a game she had no interest in playing. His responses amped up by Robinson’s simple questions. She did, however, plan to dig into his employment. His home life. One misstep and she’d destroy him, legally.

Was the encounter random or the careful orchestration for something darker?

She resisted abating the tension, building at the bridge of her nose, with her gloved fingers. Someday, she wouldn’t see everything in two shades. Maybe color would fade back in and prove life was something other than one shadow after another.