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By the time he made it back to the motel, Jason was angry.
Also sick with disappointment and hurt.
Which made no sense whatsoever.
He had understood the terms of engagement.
He himself was not looking for a relationship, let alone a long-distance relationship with someone as difficult and unpredictable as Sam Kennedy.
His emotional reaction to Kennedy’s curt goodbye was…embarrassing, frankly.
Thank God he had managed to hide it. Probably not well enough. And he could have kicked himself for that hopeful, tentative How often do you get to L.A.?
Jason swore and threw the last of his clothes in his suitcase.
What he was feeling was probably something akin to leaving summer camp. You bonded with people through adversity, and sometimes it was hard to say goodbye. That was all.
And that was normal. This had been a tough case for him. He’d had to work through a few things. So it was natural to confuse his feelings about the situation with his feelings for Kennedy.
His brief conversation with SAC Manning did not improve his mood.
Manning was erm bitterly disappointed at the way things had worked out in Kingsfield. He could not come up with a reason for insisting Jason stay on, but it was clear it killed him to give up without a fight.
“Agent West, do you feel that perhaps, erm, something Kennedy did during that previous investigation might have ultimately, erm, triggered—”
“No, sir. I really don’t.”
Jason had stuck to that line, and eventually Manning had to accept defeat.
“Your cooperation and diligence have been, erm, duly noted, Agent West.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He was in bed, not sleeping, when he heard Kennedy’s footsteps on the landing. Jason glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the morning. It would be light soon. He would be leaving for the airport soon.
Heart thumping, he listened to that firm tread approach…and then pass his door.
No pause. No hesitation.
He scrunched the pillow over his hot face. What had he thought? That Kennedy was going to change his mind when he remembered all those great times they’d spent together?
Jesus. Christ. Get over it.
He closed his eyes. A second later his eyes popped open again—like his eyelids were broken.
He was too tired to sleep. That was the truth. He was wired. He ought to just head out now.
Yes, actually, that was a good idea.
Why was he wasting time lying here when he could be on his way back to Boston? That would save him from the awkward possibility of running into Kennedy in the morning.
He sat up, snapped on the light, and then sat on the edge of his bed, wondering at the wave of depression he felt at the idea of never seeing Senior Special Agent Sam Kennedy again.
Really, Jason? Coz you couldn’t stand the guy five days ago. And now you’re getting choked up because you’ll never again have to put up with that perfumy aftershave and his insistence on always driving everywhere?
There came a soft knock at the door.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Jason rose, hauled on his jeans, and went to the door. He peered out the keyhole.
