Chapter Sixteen
RHYS
SANDERS IS standing in the hallway when the staff elevator doors open. He’s mid-pace with his hands on his hips when he swings around to face me.
“How is he?” I ask and fall in step with him as we walk the maze-like hallways of the hospital.
“It’s not good.”
Conway is one of our guys who has been undercover for almost a year. He missed his check-in last week, and we’ve been trying to find him.
He and I went through academy training at Quantico together six years ago, and we both ended up in Oklahoma at different times, me because I wanted to be close to my parents and him because of dumb luck. He was with me when my mom passed away and helped me get through it with my dad.
“Is he able to say what happened?”
“They’ve had him sedated since he got here, so, no one’s been able to talk to him. Two agents responded to the call and were on scene when our guys got to the homeless encampment.”
There are several agents already in the hallway. “Who was first on the scene?” I bark.
Two special agents standing toward the back step forward, and one of them answers. “We were.” He looks young. His partner is a step behind him and looks like an asshole.
Sliding my hands in my pockets, I focus on them. “Tell me what happened and how you came to be there.”
The one who spoke up says, “One of the detectives on the scene recognized Agent Conway and called the generic inbound line. We were having lunch nearby, and I’m sort of dating one of the operators, so she called me.”
The lack of protocol and the number of people involved right now is blowing my fucking mind. They’ve probably never even processed a scene. “Well, did anything stand out while you were there against protocol?”
I’m containing my anger because they know as well as I do, they shouldn’t have been there, and since they both look like they just finished academy, there’s no telling how much they missed while they and local law enforcement were stepping all over the scene.
The one who spoke up has the presence of mind to look apologetic. His partner, who still hasn’t said anything, looks bored, and it’s taking immense self-control to resist the urge to knock him down a few pegs.
“At first glance, it appeared to be a homeless individual overdose, but the battered condition of the body would have made it hard for him to administer the dose himself. It’s obvious he was beaten before he was given the drug and dumped near the encampment.”
“Was there anything on or around him?”
“No, sir. He didn’t even have shoes on, only a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. No identification or money in his pockets, he could have been ambushed.”
The asshole finally speaks up. “Or the homeless in the immediate area stripped him of everything they could get before anyone got there. The entire area was littered with trash and people just hanging around.”
I stare at him, trying to get a feel for him, but he only stares back. “Describe the scene on your arrival.”
The other one speaks up again. “Yes, sir. Paramedics were there. They had administered the NARCAN already and were performing CPR. The detectives were there but kept a respectable distance. We tried to look around the scene, but Jacobs is right,” he points his thumb at his asshole partner, “the entire area was littered with trash and there were footprints everywhere. It’s my belief that he was dumped there. ”
“Why?”
“Well, sir, there was no blood on the scene, and based on the state of his body, there should have been a lot of blood.” He pauses and looks sheepish. “There was a lot of sand in the area where he was found, and there were no scuff marks to indicate a struggle. Like he was pushed from a vehicle.”
“What’s your name?”
He steps forward and holds out his hand. “Andrews, sir. Special Agent Edward Andrews.”
I shake his hand and nod my head when I say, “Thank you, Agent.”
Turning to Sanders, who is leaning against the wall behind me, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s looking at the floor when I turn and looks up when I face him. “Any word on labs? Do we know what he overdosed on?”
He shakes his head. “The doctor said we should know more within the next hour or two.”
“Is there any way we can have it expedited?”
“I already asked, he said they are short a person in the lab, and he would see what he can do.”
Looking around, I don’t see anyone else from our team here. “How are you here? How did you know before me?”
He looks confused by the question. His eyebrows twitch together. “I was chatting up one of the operators when the call came in. I came right over.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I work up the courage to walk into the room and see the damage for myself. He’s almost unrecognizable. Both arms and legs are broken, and his head and face are wrapped in so much gauze that he looks like a Q-Tip.
Pulling up a chair, I sit next to Conway’s bed and make myself comfortable. When I slouch in the chair, I glance down at my shirt and see the small bloody spots from Kinley’s scraped hands.
Earlier today, when my phone let me know the back door had been opened, I watched her walk out to the pool in the tiny coral-colored bikini. My dick was immediately hard, and I watched her slim body swim zig-zags across my pool.
But when she pulled herself up out of the pool and the water slid down her backside, her long hair sticking to her back, I nearly burst out of my pants. The little triangles of her bikini barely covered her, and I was pissed that Swan was there getting a front-row view.
It’s part of the reason I was home early. Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? It was the only reason I was home early.
It pissed me off that I was pissed off because I want to be the only one to see her like that. I’ve been torn about the whole situation. Since that little firecracker walked into my life, I’ve been distracted from a case that I have put everything into for two years.
My frustration is constant. I’m always wondering if she’s okay.
I even worried about her being bored or anxious.
I’ve had relationships before, but I’ve never felt this possessive or attached to any of them.
The job has always come first, so I’ve never had a problem shutting the door to every other part of my brain to focus entirely on work.
But Ms. Kinley Grace Harlow stubbornly pushes her way through that door, breaking my focus every goddamn day.
As much as I don’t want to, there’s a tiny part of me which wondered if I should ask to have her put with another agent. Her presence is compromising my job and my life. My life has always been my fucking job, whether it was the Rangers or the FBI.
Letting my head fall back onto the chair, I stare at the ceiling. I shouldn’t have touched her today. Before I saw her in that tiny bikini, I had decided to avoid her as much as possible and keep things professional.
My dick took over, and I couldn’t help myself, I fucking wanted her more than I wanted my next goddamn breath. Maybe part of me wondered if I fucked her, it would get her out of my system.
But touching her has compromised my case and my job. Who am I fucking kidding? I was already compromised. For some reason, I can’t seem to get her out of my head.
Just remembering the sound of her pants and the moan when she came for me has my dick getting hard again.
Fuck!
I shouldn’t have fucking touched her.
Damn it!
Maybe if I say it to myself enough, I can stop the burning urge to touch her all the time.
Now I know her smell and her taste and all I want is to drive home and fuck her until she’s limp in my bed. She’s like a fucking drug, and I’m addicted.
Leaning forward, I set my elbows on my knees and rub my hands over my face. I can still smell her on me. I’ve never been so fucking ridiculous in my life - I didn’t want to wash her off me.
Letting my head fall forward, I scrub my hands through my hair and groan. “Fuck me.”
“You look like you’re in the middle of a moral dilemma.” Conway’s raspy voice is barely a whisper, but I hear his usual humor.
Jerking my head up, I see him looking at the ceiling through the eye that’s not swollen shut. “Conway! You motherfucker, you had me worried.” I stand next to his bed. “Do you want me to call the nurse?”
He tries to chuckle, but it turns into a loud, painful moan and then a cough. “Goddamn it! No.” He mumbles and takes a few slow, cautious breaths. “Ahhh, this fucking hurts.”
“Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?”
His eye cuts to me. “Yeah, I fucking remember what happened. The most important piece of information I can give you right now has to stay between you and me, no one else, Abbot.”
I nod my head. “To the fucking grave.”
“We have a mole.”
The world turns on its side. “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know who?”
He takes another slow, deep breath as he stares at the ceiling. “No, but I was getting close. Whoever it is knew I was about to oust him. Told the Ghost about me.”
I don’t even try to hide my shock and rub my hand down my chin. “How bad is it?”
“I started noticing months ago. They seemed to know every move you were about to make before you made it.” His eye cuts to me again. “It’s someone close to the case.”
Linking my fingers behind my head, I turn away from the bed and stare out the window at downtown Tulsa for a minute. “Goddamn it.”
The door opens, and Sanders walks in, pulling my attention from the window.
“So, I can’t even wipe my own ass. Whoever they get to be my nurse better fuckin’ be good looking.” Conway mumbles, quickly changing the subject.
Wiping all worry from my face before I turn around to face him and Sanders, I turn back to his bed. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
It’s nearly midnight before I pull into my driveway, and the lights are still on. Resting my forearms on my steering wheel, I look at the little house my mom loved. When she wasn’t on tour, she would come here to rest and spend time with my dad.
He was the homebody, and she was the free spirit. They loved each other so much that it was easy to be who they were without impacting their marriage. No matter what, they were each other’s home base.
Before she died, I always told myself that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than the kind of love they shared. But she died seven years ago, and none of my relationships have been anywhere close to that. I know most of that is my fault.
When I turned thirty-five last fall, I started to accept that maybe it wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe the job is supposed to be my focus.
Until Kinley walked into my life.
Her free fucking spirit and her cocky fucking attitude, unashamedly being who she is, have me rethinking everything.
I’ve been fighting my attraction to her, but then she had to paint that picture.
It was more than just the gesture, it was how easy and innocently she gave me a small part of herself, that was just a peek of the woman she is under all that sass and thick skin.
I’ve never felt with another woman what I feel for her.
Fuck me if this couldn’t be the worst timing. I’ve put two years into this case, I have to see it through. Just this one. Then I can shift my focus to her, to see where this can go.
I don’t think my heart has beat this hard in my chest since Ranger School, but I have to do it. I have to back off and let her know that everything that happened today should not have happened. I need to focus, especially now.
After what Conway told me today, after they almost killed him. Things are getting dangerous, and I need to make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. Even her.
What if she were pegged as a weakness for me? If I let myself get close to her, how could I focus on the job of keeping her safe when she’s such a distraction? All it would take is missing one little thing and I could put her, and others, lives in danger.
If anything like what happened to Conway happened to her, I don’t know what I would do. I don’t think I could forgive myself if anything happened to her because of me.
My chest is squeezing so tight, it feels like a vice has attached itself to my ribcage. Setting my chin on my forearm, I tell myself there will be time for other things after I get through this case. I can make time for her. For us.
I could lose her.
With a deep fucking breath, I open the door and get out.