9
Stewart
Since our investigations were intertwined, we met for breakfast the next morning to plan.
“I have questions,“
Mason said, buttering his toast.
We were in the main dining hall, and I was sitting next to Roscoe and across from Mason. Roscoe’s plate was piled with food. I picked at my spinach-and-tomato omelet. I wasn’t much of a breakfast eater, but I sipped my Earl Grey tea like it was the nectar of the gods.
“That’s why we’re here,“
Roscoe said, flashing me a grin. As if we—the two of us—were a team. I smiled in response. How could I not?
Mason bit into his toast and sipped his coffee. He was making us wait, which raised several alarms. He finally turned his focus on Roscoe. “Captain Jessup checked you out. You know what she found?”
Roscoe frowned. “I thought we were discussing the case.”
“What are you doing, Mason?“
I wasn’t putting up with any chest beating. I’d had enough of that, thank you very much.
“Roscoe doesn’t work for the FBI.”
I laughed. Was he serious? But then I looked at Roscoe’s face, and my stomach dropped. Had I trusted the wrong person again?
“I can explain—”
“The person Jessup talked to, SSA Jane Lisben, said you were an agent several years ago, but your partner was killed during a sting operation, and you lost it.”
“You were fired?“
It wasn’t the question I wanted to ask. I’d need to work up to that one.
“Not exactly fired.“
He wouldn’t look at me, but his hand went to his shoulder. Something I noticed he did quite often.
“Doesn’t matter,“
Mason said, his voice hard. “We don’t need some vigilante fucking up our case.”
Roscoe glared. “Jack was my friend. My best friend.“
He pushed his half-eaten plate away. “He joined the FBI because of me.”
Mason’s face softened. “I’m sorry. But we can’t involve a civilian—”
“Why not?“
I asked. They both stared at me. “Whether his involvement in this case is official or not, he has the contacts we need. Representative Carter is willing to meet with him. EliteHire trusts him.” I gave my partner a defiant look. “I trust him.”
Mason leaned closer. “He’s lying to them. And you, Stewart. Dale—”
“It’s not the same. He’s not—“
I stopped and stared at my omelet. “Roscoe won’t stop. This way, we can provide backup if he needs it.”
“Fuck me,“
Roscoe said and chuckled.
Mason glared at him. “Something funny, asshole?”
I kicked my partner under the table. “Stop it.“
Then I turned to the man who was looking at me…the same way he’d been eyeing his breakfast. “What?”
“I’ve never had anyone—besides Jack—go to bat for me.“
He grinned and shook his head. “Lisben is going to chew my ass from here to Sunday, but I don’t care.” He put his hand over mine and squeezed. “I love…how genuine you are, Stewart.”
I’d been sure he was going to say something else. But it was too soon for anything like that. “You do?“
I asked breathlessly.
“Start talking, asshole.“
Most people pissed themselves when Mason got that angry, but Roscoe took a sip of his coffee.
“I didn’t lie,“
he finally said. “I work for the FBI, but I’m deep undercover.”
Mason raised a brow. “So deep they don’t even know?”
His smile dipped a bit. “We have a leak. And we’re trying to flush it out.”
“You expect us to believe you?”
“I believe you.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.“
He kissed me, and it held a promise for later.
Mason let out an aggravated sound. “I need more—”
Roscoe’s cell rang, and he grimaced. “Lisben.”
Mason crossed his arms. “Put it on speaker.”
Roscoe checked the area. Just us. The ringing stopped and started again. He shrugged and answered. But he didn’t need to put it on speaker. She was yelling loud enough for us to hear.
“They have your real name, Roscoe. Did you blow your fucking cover?“
She let out a frustrated noise. “What the hell is happening on that cruise?”
Roscoe excused himself to finish his call.
Mason shrugged and downed his coffee. “I stand corrected.”