Three #3
“What the fuck is going on?” Sam roared at me, coming around the counter, hands on my arms, fingers digging into my skin. “How the hell do you know Cristo Liron, and why the fuck did he have his goddamn hands all over you?”
“Who’s the girl?” I asked him.
“Did you hear me?” he yelled.
“Who’s the girl?” I repeated, my voice cracking.
“The girl doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he snarled at me, shaking me hard. “What matters is Cristo Liron—drug smuggler, gun runner, murdering piece-of-shit fuck—had his fuckin’ hands all over you! You have two seconds to tell me what—”
The door opened, and Sam let me go, turned, pulled his gun, and had it leveled at whoever was there so fast that my eyes couldn’t follow the motion. It had been one continuous, fluid movement.
“This is un-fucking-believable!” Agent Calhoun yelled as he stormed into the room. “Are you kidding me with this? What the hell are you doing here, Harcourt?”
I was speechless, staring at both of them, taking in the whole picture. I was back in time, and I expected to see Don Johnson in a white suit and a sleeveless pink T-shirt at any second. They were both dressed in pastel Easter colors. It was surreal.
“You are putting us all in danger by being here!”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to respond to Calhoun, to the anger in his voice, but found myself at a loss.
“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, throwing up his hands.
And just like that, seeing Calhoun’s disgust with me, I was back.
“What’re you wearing?” I asked him, my voice dropping low, suddenly just as annoyed as he was.
He picked up the closest thing to him and used it to punctuate his threats. “I’m going to have you thrown in federal—”
“You’re threatening me with a whisk,” I pointed out snidely.
“This is an ongoing task force inves—”
“I’m just saying,” I said, widening my eyes, “whisk.”
He threw the kitchen utensil at me, which I easily avoided, having only to lean sideways out of its trajectory. Not that it would have hurt me. I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“You—” He stopped himself, turning to Sam. “Fix this now.”
“How?” Sam asked through clenched teeth.
“Get him out of here.”
“How?”
Calhoun looked at me, and I arched an eyebrow at him.
“We need to get out there before anyone notices we’re gone,” he told Sam.
“I will not leave Jory alone with that guy. It’s not happening.”
“Sam, you cannot blow this case for—”
“He’s not worried about me,” I lied automatically. “He’s just worried that I’m gonna blow your cover. When Sam’s on the job, he’s totally on it,” I assured Agent Calhoun. “You know that.”
He squinted at me. “I do know that.”
“Well then, see?” I forced a smile. “We’re fine. Both of you should just get the hell away from me.”
“Jor—”
“I’m fine,” I assured Sam coolly. “You guys go ahead. I just need a minute.”
He was going to say something, but Calhoun grabbed his arm and tugged hard. They were both gone seconds later. I was trembling when the door opened again, this time revealing Cristo Liron.
“Hey,” he said gently, sounding worried as he crossed the room to me. “What’s wrong? Are you claustrophobic or—”
“I’m fine,” I assured him, stepping back. “I was just a little lightheaded. I didn’t have any dinner, and I—”
“Fuck it,” he growled, reaching for me, hands on my face, holding gently but firmly, tipping my head up so he could see my eyes. “We’ll eat now. Business can wait. I—”
“No.” I shook my head, feeling out of it, my mind reeling as I pulled free of his touch, putting space between us. “I just wanna go home.”
“Shit,” he said under his breath, swallowing hard, moving forward, only to have me step around him.
“I have to go home.” I needed to see all my stuff was still where it should be, assure myself that I had not gone completely insane over the last hour.
His voice was deep and sultry. “Angel, please just let me take you to dinner.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m leaving.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you here. It’s a waste of your time because I have business to conduct, but I just couldn’t let you go home … I wanted to spend more time with you.”
I moved fast, putting the kitchen island between us before he could protest. I had my graceful way out, and I was going to take it.
“You have things to do, to discuss, and I’m just here, doing nothing but taking up your time. You wanted to thank me for Eddie, and you did. It’s enough. You don’t hafta do any more.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Eddie’s got my number, so maybe next week, you guys gimme a call, and the three of us can grab lunch or something. Or call me, and we can have dinner, just us … but I need to be done here for the night.”
“I want to sit and talk with you.”
“Call me then. The food sounded really great.” I tried to smile for him.
After several long minutes, he nodded. “I will call, Angel, make no mistake.”
“Good.”
He smiled and gestured for the door. I didn’t wait. I bolted.
I didn’t look for Sam. I just moved. Eyes straight ahead, snaking my way through the crowd, I was back on the deck with the wind on my face in what felt like seconds. Down the ladder, back on the dock, I jogged to the parking lot to my car.
Once I was driving, I finally took a breath. I had never been so happy to be going home.