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She didn’t look forward to sharing those reasons with Jimmy and Jack Murphy in the morning. Just the thought made her stomach tumble.
“You know, you don’t want to take your career lightly,” her mother said. “But when a man like this comes along—a man of substance—you can’t put him aside and hope he waits until it’s convenient for you. Now the sweet-talking weasel—of course you’d never risk anything for him. He’s just a right-now kind of guy. But if you really think Landry is the forever kind, you owe it to yourself to find out.”
The forever kind of guy. She’d teased with her mom that her dad was the last one of that kind ever made. It scared her that Landry might be one—might be her forever guy. Special Agent Alia Kingsley, never fazed by murderers, rapists or thugs of any kind, was quaking deep inside at the possibility.
“Try to help Daddy see it that way, will you? I don’t want him to think that I’m going with my hormones instead of my brain.”
Her mom snorted. “Your father’s gone with his hormones instead of his brains plenty of times. In the end, though, all he wants is for you to be happy.”
“And to eventually be the director of NCIS.”
“Ah, he’s just living through your accomplishments. We both are.”
Alia laughed. “There’s a frightening thought.”
“Be happy and give us grandbabies. That’s all we really want from you. And—” Lien turned totally serious. “I’ll deny I said it, but truth is, the grandbabies are optional. You happy and healthy—that’s all that matters.” She paused. “Do you feel better?”
Silently Alia scanned through her emotions. “I do.”
“Good. That’s how it should be when you talk to your mama. Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you and Dad.” Alia disconnected the call and stared into the sky. Had Camilla Jackson ever called her son sweetie? Had she told him she loved him? Had she really felt that love?
Alia was an equal-opportunity assigner of guilt: if one parent hurt a child and the other didn’t stop him/her, they both failed the minimum standards of decent parenting. But there was still something inside her, old-fashioned maybe, that felt the mother was a little more to blame. Camilla had carried Landry for nine months; she had incredibly intimate contact with him every day for forty weeks. She’d nourished him, diapered him, sat up nights with him. She’d had a mother’s obligation, a connection that even a father couldn’t match in the most primal of ways.
And yet she’d forfeited her responsibility. She’d turned that monster of a father loose on her children and closed her eyes while he and his bastard friends hurt them. Raped them.
She should have drowned in that gin bottle. But that would have been too easy a passing. She would be punished in the hereafter, but it gave Alia some warped satisfaction to know she’d suffered in this life, too.
Chapter 11
The supervisory special agent in charge of the NCIS office was a formidable woman. Slender and able to intimidate agents far more experienced than Alia, Sheila Martinez listened to Alia’s request to give up the multiple homicide. Now she sat, studying Alia, her expression giving away nothing of her thoughts.
Alia was doing her best to appear just as impassive. She didn’t think she was anywhere near succeeding.
After an eternity, Sheila broke her silence. “You want to be excused from a major investigation because you’re involved with one of the subjects—the admiral’s son, in fact.”
“I’m not—” Alia broke off. Involved didn’t always include sex. There was no way she could deny emotional involvement with Landry. Hell, she couldn’t even deny the hope that it did include sex. Soon. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How far has it gone?”
“Nothing physical.” Yet.
“Yet.” Sheila spoke the word Alia had only thought. “And his alibi is reliable?”
“For the first murders.”
“How sure are you that the murders are all connected?”
“I’m convinced of it.”
After another long silence, Sheila grudgingly said, “Make sure DiBiase has your notes and tell him he’ll be working with Zoe—” Her dark gaze narrowed. “Make that Marcus Trent.”
Oh, so you’ve met Jimmy, Alia wanted to say, hiding a grin at the change from pretty blue-eyed Zoe to grumpy loner Marcus.
“I’ll do that this morning, ma’am.” Alia rose, wiping her palms on her pants under the guise of smoothing the fabric. She was halfway to the door when Sheila spoke again.
