20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
AJ
B lake didn’t get it, and it pissed me off. Her life was in danger, and she refused to accept it was my job to keep threats at a safe distance.
She didn’t have to like it, but she had to accept it. And things would go a hell of a lot smoother if she stopped arguing about it.
Was I more assertive than necessary when I stopped that kid?
No. Well, maybe.
Okay, yes. But Blake was mine to protect and I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to hurt or intimidate her. And while she may not remember flinching when that guy got too close; I couldn’t forget it. Hell, she probably didn’t even realize she’d done it. It didn’t matter; that asshole made my woman flinch.
Unacceptable.
When did I start referring to her as mine? I need to cut that shit out and focus.
When she walked to the rear door of the car and threw it open, I knew it’d be a long, silent drive back to her father’s house.
And I was right; her frosty silence was deafening.
She didn’t wait for me after I parked. Instead, shoving the door open, getting pissed when it bounced back at her, and pushing it open again. When she finally got out, she practically ran to the door.
It would have been comical if I wasn't the reason she was angry.
I made sure she got in safely before parking and waiting impatiently for Eric to relieve me for the night.
Why didn’t she understand I was there to protect her? And while she didn’t think it was true, everyone else on the team would react the same way. Almost. To do our job, we had to assume anyone acting aggressively—no matter who—was a threat until proven otherwise.
For all I knew, that kid had a knife or a needle. Him getting close enough to make contact was out of the question.
She seemed to have forgotten that I left her and her friends alone until Stan got handsy and refused to leave.
The drive back to Weatherford did nothing to improve my mood. I was stupid for letting her get to me. It wasn’t like I was her boyfriend, or even her friend. I was her bodyguard. A bodyguard she doesn’t want, let alone like. Nothing more.
Part of me couldn’t wait until Maxwell took over the day shift, so I could be free of her attitude.
Part of me wanted to be on duty twenty-four-seven.
Part of me wanted to forget I’d ever laid eyes on Blake Edith Davenport.
All of me wanted to shove my hands into her sassy pink-striped, blond hair, pull her head back until she had no choice but to look at me, and kiss her until the annoyingly sexy, irritating, sassy attitude drained right the fuck out of her.
I slammed my hands on the steering wheel.
I am so fucking fucked . Blake was under my skin, living rent free in my head, and turning my world inside out.
And I wasn’t happy about it. I didn’t want to fall in love. I can’t . What if I turned out like my father?
I slammed my hands on the steering wheel again.
A call interrupted the radio and my spiraling thoughts.
“Janerek,” I barked after hitting accept.
“Dude, who pissed you off?” Jack’s question echoed in the car.
“Nothing,” I forced myself to calm down.
“Whatever, dude. Can you meet me for dinner? I want to update you on the Davenport investigation.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“What’d you find?” I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I heard.
“Not over the phone.”
I definitely won’t like what I hear . My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel and applied more pressure to the gas pedal.
“Where are we meeting?”
Dreading what Jack had to say only added to my foul mood. I walked into the bar and scanned; Jack and Meg were in a corner booth.
“Thank God you’re here. I’m starving,” Meg said when I sat down.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. Meg was too polite not to wait.
“We only half waited. The appetizers should be out soon,” she admitted. I’d only known Jack for about ten years, but I was confident Meg was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt he was the best thing to happen to her.
“Thanks.”
Jack waited until the server took our orders before starting.
“You won't like this,” he said.
“Just tell me.” I hadn’t told a single soul about my attraction to Blake, but Jack knew. Sometimes his observational skills made it seem like he had a sixth sense.
Turns out, Jack and Doug ran into a lot of resistance when they started questioning people about DA Steven Davenport. He'd dismissed a lot of charges against associates of known crime bosses under questionable circumstances.
“We got a lot of doors slammed in our faces, figuratively and literally,” Jack said.
“You think he’s dirty?” I asked.
Jack’s hesitation was answer enough.
“I think he pissed someone off enough for them to use Aurora to get to him,” Jack finally answered.
We used Blake’s call sign and talked in hushed tones despite the noise in the bar being loud enough to keep most people from hearing us. One can never be too careful .
Giving our female clients Disney princess call signs was Meg’s idea back when she first started at SSI, after John poached her from Mary. Hers was Cinderella when we helped her. Meg believed every girl dreamed of being a princess, even if they never admitted it.
I didn’t think it was true, but the system worked for us.
We’d called Emily Snow White when she was a client. When her best friend, Ashley, asked for one, I’d suggested one of the seven dwarves, but she didn’t think the names fit. I couldn’t remember who suggested creating an eighth dwarf, Flirty, but it fit her to a tee. And Ashley had loved it.
Damn . I hadn’t thought about Ashley since I started this detail.
Ashley and I hooked up regularly, and I usually thought about her every couple of days. Especially if I had a bad day and wanted a couple of beers. Or some physical stress relief . She was the perfect friend-with-benefits. Neither of us wanted a commitment, we had a lot of fun together, and by being each other’s dates for Sheppard events, we kept everyone off our backs.
“Has Blake said anything?” Jack asked.
What the fuck kind of question is that?
“You mean has she made some grand confession of her father’s guilt I swept under the rug? No, she hasn’t.” How dare he imply Blake might have knowledge of, or be involved in, her father’s alleged illegal activity? Or that I wouldn't tell him the instant I heard it.
Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that, but I had to ask.”
“No. You didn’t.” I leaned back and crossed my arms, daring him to say something else.
He nodded, but kept his mouth shut. Smart man .
“Should we have two people at the house?” I asked, suddenly worried one wasn’t enough.
“Eric knows to be on high alert, and Dean is on standby in the area.”
I nodded. Worried the person who sent the note would act sooner rather than later, I debated packing a suitcase and heading to Dallas for the foreseeable future.
“We’re increasing her coverage during the day; I’ll be your backup on campus tomorrow. Jamie, Dad, and Doug will keep pulling threads. Maxwell agreed to reach out to the FBI and see what they know.”
When I didn’t answer, Jack asked, “We good?”
“Yeah.” I nodded and leaned forward. “Thanks.”
Jack questioning Blake’s character might have pissed me off, but it was temporary. He was doing his job, which sometimes meant asking stupid questions.
Knowing Jack would have my back the next day made me feel better. We’d faced hell together in the Middle East, and I trusted him with my life.
I trust him with Blake’s life .
Which meant so much more.