Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jane thought about spending New Year’s Eve alone, but a text from Hal convinced her to join the guys near the Space Needle for fireworks followed by drinks at a bar to celebrate.
The weather cooperated for once, and they enjoyed the fireworks before heading to a popular dive in Lake City. Joe, as expected, got into a fight that Jane solved peaceably with a darts contest.
Hal ended up winning, and the idiot who’d thought he could take on Joe and survive ended up buying Joe, Hal, and Jane a round of drinks. She hadn’t expected to celebrate, tired after a grueling day staring at videos, so the beers hit her harder than she’d expected.
She woke up with the sun hitting her in the face, hanging half off her bed, her headache painful.
A familiar groan from her living room told her the boys had delivered her back home, though she had no memory of it.
“You are such a lightweight,” Joe rumbled with a laugh.
Hal and Joe and Jane in her tiny but spotless apartment. She would have been freaked out about others, even them, invading her space if she hadn’t been distracted by a well of nausea.
Half an hour later, she joined the guys in her kitchen, feeling better after a much-needed shower.
“Aw, look who decided to rejoin the living.” Hal sounded way too cheery. To her bemusement, he looked fine if a bit frumpy in his wrinkled shirt and jeans, not like a guy who’d been groaning earlier, sounding two breaths away from death.
Joe looked the way he always did. A muscled giant with a winsome smile who made killer pancakes. And, of course, his clothes looked wrinkle-free.
“Gimme.” She motioned for the plate of pancakes he’d fixed.
He grinned. “You’re so cute when you’re hungover.”
She glared, and Joe laughed and slid her the plate. She devoured the food and felt worlds better, especially when Joe handed her a cup of her favorite Earl Grey tea.
Hal propped his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and closed his eyes. “How’s the investigation going?”
She filled them both in on what she’d been working on.
They didn’t like what she’d found, and neither did she.
“What’s odd is how Gambol knew,” Hal said. “I mean, did he figure it out after watching hours and hours of video? I doubt it. So who told him?”
“Good question.” Joe looked thoughtful. “What if someone warned him about the murders? Like, it’s an attack on the city? The murderer maybe contacted him? Because Lionel responds to direct threats. He’s not a wait-and-see-and-study kind of guy.”
“Wait. You know Lionel Gambol?” She blinked.
Hal opened his eyes and shared a look with Joe. “Jane, we could tell you, but we’d have to kill you.”
“Shut up, Hal.”
He snickered. “Seriously though. Gambol’s a good egg. Takes himself a little too seriously, but he’s someone you can trust. He’s not political, and he tries to protect the little guy. I like him.”
“You would.” Joe shook his head. “You still owe him for getting you out of that ‘situation’ in Riyadh.”
Hal cleared his throat. “That’s not it. I just like him.”
Joe rolled his eyes.
Jane studied Hal. She hadn’t heard about the Riyadh incident, though she had a feeling she hadn’t heard about most of the things the guys got up to. And she’d sleep the better for it.
“Anyway,” Jane continued, “we’re getting somewhere on this serial medical responder killer.” She’d overheard Diego call the guy the Code Blue Killer and hoped it didn’t stick. Giving killers monikers only made them that much more attractive to the press and serial killer groupies.
“It’s weird though,” Hal added. “Killing doctors and nurses? EMTs? They typically help people. Your unsub is going to have an interesting profile.”
He had a point. And that led her to another thought. “Speaking of interesting profiles, do either of you know a guy named Gunther Rapp? He’s the agent in charge of Gambol’s little task force. The guy strikes me as some ex-military type. I haven’t had the time to look him up though.”
“I’ll get you something on him later,” Hal promised. “Are you coming back to the house with us?”
“How long are you guys sticking around?” She really had missed them.
Oddly, the holiday made her nostalgic for the old days, when she, Raine, and Uncle Chris would celebrate by shooting weird ammo at funny targets he’d set up.
They’d go on treks through the woods on “hunting” parties, looking for Santa and evidence of reindeer, which Team Ten would plant.
Or they’d strategize how to invade the North Pole and Santa’s workshop in case the elves had plans to overthrow the system.
In retrospect, her uncle had been unconventional, to say the least. But so much fun. Because of him and Team Ten, she had so many fond memories.
“We’ll be here for another few weeks at least,” Joe said. “Chris said to stand by for a new op, a bigger one, after he’s back.”
Hal nodded. “He’s always got something lined up for us.” He sighed. “No rest for the wicked.” But he winked to show he loved it.
“Yeah, speaking of wicked… How did we get home last night? I think I might have blacked out.”
“You were exhausted, and those three beers put you down hard.” Hal snickered, and Joe joined in. “But you were so cute talking about how much better you are at finding clues and hunting bad guys than ‘stupid Raine.’”
She groaned. “You can’t tell her I said that. It’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Yeah, right.” Joe guffawed. “You just don’t want her to know she can still drink you under the table. Three beers? Honey, that’s just sad.”
Jane flushed. She’d never tolerated alcohol. “I know. Now hush up about it and I might come back to the ranch with you.”
Joe mimed zipping his lip then ruined it by asking Hal, “Can we play that video game again? I was close to beating Jane last time before she stole my treasure and kidnapped my jester.”
“Fine by me. But even if you do beat her, you’ll still end up losing to me. Then you’ll lose to her when you convince her to race again. My man, you’re just not as fast as you think you are.”
“Shut it, Boy Toy.”
“So, Joe,” Jane interrupted before they could get started. “If I agree to another race, can we shoot again? I might be able to beat you at fifteen yards this time.” He’d smoked her at seven yards and twenty-five, but she had a good feeling about the middle distance.
Joe huffed. “Keep dreaming, girlie.” At her glare, he held up his hands in surrender. “But if it helps motivate you to up your pistol practice, let’s do it.”
Hal nodded. “And Jane, if you’re super nice to me—by forgetting Joe mentioned the Riyadh incident—I’ll do one better than look up your Agent Rapp. I’ll tell you all you want to know about Supervisory Special Agent Scott. All the secret squirrel stuff you’re not supposed to know about.”
Jane knew the guys hadn’t forgotten about her suspension. But she was surprised to see the intensity on Hal’s face. A feeling that still burned inside her as well.
I haven’t forgotten you, Simmons.
“Okay, Hal. Consider Riyadh forgotten. But Matthew Scott? That one’s mine.” After a pause, she added, “but we can’t tell Uncle Chris. Ever.”
They both looked at Joe, the weakest member of their three-person team.
He looked injured but said the magic words. “Fine. Fine. I’ll never tell. Happy now?”
Yes, she was. She had a plan. Now to beat Joe at shooting. For once in her life.
Several hours later, Jane got off the phone with one of her newer CIs, a young woman who liked to party with gangsters. She was pretty and talented, working her way from pole to pole in Seattle until she’d landed at Junior Mazzuca’s favorite hangout.
They’d dated for a while until Junior decided he could do better. Lola hadn’t cared for his attitude. After going down in a drug bust, she’d decided to offer Jane information to stay free of jail.
Tonight, Lola had definitely delivered.
The secret location of the new Mazzuca hangout.