The Phoenix (18 page)

“I’m sorry,” Jay told him, passing a hand over his face. “Naturally, I’ll cover the legal fees.” He had a nice little nest egg socked back. The single life in the military hadn’t been a particularly expensive one and he’d come from a family of savers. To his knowledge his dad had never even had a credit card.
Nothing spends better than cash,
he’d always said. Jay smiled, remembering. He’d been planning to use the money to buy a house, but could hardly let the firm pay for his actions.

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know where Charlie lived and the thought brought him up short. In fact, there were lots of things he didn’t know about her. How odd, when he felt like he’d known her forever, as though a part of him had instinctively recognized her.

“It won’t come to that,” Payne remarked. “Betterworth is so far in the red it’s more maroon. He doesn’t have the money to hire a lawyer, much less sue us.”

“You’ve looked at his financials?”

“I pulled them before we ever took him on. He’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth.” Payne chuckled darkly. “And every bit of his financial future hangs on Truffles. Even if the dog dies a natural death and all the terms of the will are met, Betterworth and that equally lazy sister of his will only inherit a fraction of the fortune.” He paused thoughtfully. “I’m not altogether certain that he’s smart enough to understand that. The will’s quite cleverly worded.”

Why in the hell had they taken him on as a client then? Jay wondered. It wasn’t as if the company needed the money.

“We should have sent him elsewhere when he called,” Payne said. “But on the surface, the report looked like a man who’d gotten a raw deal, who was experiencing cash-flow problems thanks to an eccentric aunt who’d preferred her pet over her family. It wasn’t until I started really digging this morning after you called that I found there was more. A couple of assault and battery charges that had been buried, a few fires, that sort of thing.”

Things that Charlie would have found, Jay thought.

“How much, exactly, do Betterworth and the sister inherit if nothing happens to Truffles?”

“A quarter of a million each,” Payne said. “And I haven’t looked at the sister’s financials yet—that’s next on my list—but if she’s spent the way her brother has then that’s not going to keep them out of bankruptcy.”

“Would a million each do it?” Jay asked, his spine prickling with unease.

Payne was thoughtful. “Well managed, yes. Do you think—”

“I don’t know,” Jay told him. “But it seems awfully damned strange, doesn’t it?”

“But why not ask for all of it?” Payne argued. “Why only demand less than half?”

“Not to draw suspicion, maybe? Perhaps this first million is all they need to tide them over until the dog passes away. Meanwhile, they’d have some extra money to throw at the attorneys to try and undermine the will.”

“It’s a thought,” Payne said. “But technically…”

“I can’t leave,” Jay told him. “I’d really like your permission to see this through.” He told him about the most recent ransom instructions. “Aggie has gotten Charlie the equipment she needs to try and hack into the system long enough to see if she can find out who the account belongs to. Provided we don’t find out who’s taken the dog prior to our next instructions—and frankly, we don’t have anything significant to go on and, at this point, I’m not especially hopeful about that—she’ll need to be working the hacking angle while I go and get Truffles. She needs me,” he said.

The silence on the other end of the line was almost deafening. He’d said too much, Jay realized too late.
Damn, damn, damn.
He winced and passed a hand over his face.

“Permission to stay granted,” Payne finally said. He sounded almost…amused?

No doubt Jay would have some explaining to do when he got back, but at least he still had a job and could see this through. “Thank you.”

“And Jay?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad you nailed that bastard. I can’t abide a bully.”

And with that parting comment, the line went dead.

Though he hadn’t needed their approval to do what he did, Jay was glad to know that he’d had it. More than anything, though, it had been Charlie’s reaction to his hotheaded temper that had been the most gratifying.

The look on her face when he’d walked out of the jail…

She’d been so proud of him, for lack of a better description. Those wide autumn-like eyes had been sparkling with more admiration and respect than he’d ever seen before and, though he’d only done what any half-decent man with any sort of character would have done, he got the impression that Charlie hadn’t met many of those.

Sad, that.

She was a phenomenal woman. She was smart and funny and droll and was perfectly capable of kicking his ass six ways to Sunday. He chuckled low. Hell, he could admit it. And he didn’t mind admitting it. The level of discipline and dedication that went into mastering martial arts was damned admirable. He wasn’t going to let a little something like ego get in the way of appreciating her skill.

In fact, it rather turned him on. He liked that she’d speak her mind, that she’d fight her way out of a corner before letting anyone put her there.

He liked
her,
Jay realized in a moment of insight. She’d told him that he was different, but she was the one who was genuinely unique. Remembered heat slid through his limbs and settled in his groin when he thought about what they’d done in her car.
The foggy windows, the shared breaths, her kittenish sounds and the slide of her bare nails over his flesh. The feel of her tight body above his. Dusky nipples, creamy flesh, that especially carnal plump bottom lip.
A shiver raced through him and his dick twitched in his pants.

The next time he had her—and there would definitely be a next time—they were going to do it in a proper bed, with proper sheets. And he was going to strip her completely naked and taste every inch of her bare flesh. He was going to slow things down and gradually wind her up…and then let her fly.

For a split second Jay considered emailing Payne and asking him for that background check on her he’d offered earlier, but ultimately dismissed the idea. If he wanted to know something, then he’d just ask her, dammit.

And there was
so
much he wanted to know.

He wanted to know what sort of child she’d been—he suspected she’d been a little hellcat, of course—and whether she had any family. He wanted to know why she’d chosen to go into law enforcement. What had prompted the career choice in the first place and why had she left? He wanted to know why she’d applied for the job at Ranger Security and why Juan Carlos had owed her a favor. He wanted to know when she’d developed an interest in martial arts and how long she’d been in training.

He wanted to know her favorite book, her favorite color, her favorite food, if she slept on the right or left side of the bed, where she lived and whether she’d ever been seriously involved with someone. He wanted to know everything about her—every thought, opinion, mole and scar. He grimaced.

The only problem with that was she’d expect the same sort of disclosure in turn. The idea made his blood run cold. She knew the basic facts, of course, thanks to her perusing his file, but she didn’t know about the accident.

The explosion, the force of the blast, the heat licking up the back of his legs, the horrible smell of human suffering.
Corby McDonald, whom they called Big Hoss, had been on his left, and Matty Upchurch on his right. He’d visited them in the burn unit afterward and… Well, they’d never be the same. Both had “medic’ed out.” Corby had a three-year-old and his wife had been pregnant at the time of the accident.

She’d left him.

Matty had gone home to his parents, ordered a suicide kit from a woman in California who’d even offered priority shipping, and ended his own life. Federal agents had since raided the woman’s home, but it had been too late for his friend.

One life gone, another ruined…and he’d come out without a blister.

Survivor’s guilt, my ass, Jay thought. More like survivor’s shame. Survivor’s misery. Survivor’s agony.

He couldn’t face the possibility of anything like that ever happening again, couldn’t do the job he’d been trained to do without fear of making a mistake, of jeopardizing his comrades. Of coming away unharmed again and facing the perplexed and envious looks from his friends.

He knew they hadn’t blamed him, which was fair because it hadn’t been his fault. But they’d resented him.

And that had been worse.

He didn’t think he could share that with her. Hadn’t shared it with
anybody.

What was it she’d said? A worry shared was a worry divided? Maybe so, but this was a concern he had to carry himself.

It was the least he could do, really, all things considered.

13

CHARLIE’S EYES WATERED and her back ached, but she was damned pleased with what she’d put together. It had taken her almost the entire night. She glanced at the clock, noting the time, and made a snap decision.

She needed to talk to Jay.

She carefully opened her door, making sure to look for dental floss or any other potential alert he’d rigged, then peeked into the hall. She listened for a moment, satisfied that no one was up yet, then darted across the corridor to his door. He hadn’t bothered to lock it, which made her smile. Hopeful she’d turn up? she wondered. Or had he decided not to bother? Either way she was irrationally pleased.

Charlie slipped into the room and scanned the dark bed for his sleeping form. He was sprawled on his side, one leg slung outside the duvet, one beneath, and his arm hung off the edge of the bed. A night-light from the bathroom illuminated the side of his face and it was so relaxed in sleep and so
dear
—dammit, when had that happened?—that it made a lump swell in her throat and her chest squeeze with some troubling, terrifying emotion.

Oh, hell.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Just because he’d decked an asshole and rescued a girl, didn’t look at her background check when he’d had the chance, opened doors, admired her intelligence and wasn’t threatened by her strength didn’t mean she should get…attached to him.

He’d still taken her job.

Granted, he’d abandoned this one in his “official” capacity and had stayed on to help because it was the right thing to do—a man who did the right thing, she marveled wonderingly—but ultimately he still had taken something she’d so desperately wanted.

Working for the Falcon brothers was a fine enough job and she was glad to have it, but she wasn’t altogether sure that they had what it took to make it in this business long-term, which meant her job security was less than perfect. How could she consider the possibility of having a family under those circumstances? A year from now she might be unemployed and crawling back to the P.D., her hat in her hands. At the thought of a family, her gaze inexplicably slid to Jay.

No doubt he’d make a great father, she thought, a soft smile curling her lips. He’d be the type of dad who’d change diapers and embrace his responsibility. He’d be the kind who would get on the floor and roughhouse with his kids, who wouldn’t miss a Little League game and would help with homework. He’d instill morals and respect and courtesy and a good work ethic. He’d be just as proud of a daughter as he would be of a son and he’d honor her decisions and not stop talking to her out of petty spite.

She hadn’t realized how much that had hurt her until just now, Charlie thought, scowling. Her father hadn’t behaved like that when Jack had announced his intentions to follow another path. He’d been disappointed, but at the end of the day he’d clapped him on the back and all was well.

Why hadn’t her dad done that with her? Why had he made her feel like she was a failure, a second-best child, a disappointment? Why hadn’t he wanted
her
to be happy? Wasn’t that supposed to be a universal wish for one’s children?

In all honesty, though she’d loved her mother, she’d always thought she had a closer relationship with her father. They had more shared interests. Her mother, bless her heart, had never understood her. Undoubtedly when Charlie was born her mom had had visions of dresses and matching hair bows and patent-leather shoes. She grinned. What she’d gotten was dirty T-shirts, cutoff jeans and sneakers. A girl who preferred playing baseball to playing house, who buried her dolls in the dirt so that she could reenact a crime scene, one who’d cut off her own hair to keep from having to wear ponytails or those cursed ribbons, a girl who had perpetually skinned knees, broken bones and who got into more fights than her older brother. And won.