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Petty’s smile was white and rueful. “What an opportunity. To work with Sam on his last case as a field agent.”
“It was a learning experience.”
Not BAU Chief Kennedy, but Sam Kennedy. In fact, just plain old Sam, which, given Sam’s general reputation in field offices and resident agencies, seemed to imply an unexpected social connection. Or, at the very least, an out of the ordinary interest in the legendary BAU Chief.
“I was part of the Deerlodge Destroyer task force he headed two years ago. It was really enlightening.”
“I bet,” Jason said.
The disturbing case Petty was referring to was why Sam happened to be in Montana at the same time as Jason. The capture of a serial killer who had been using the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest as his personal hunting ground had been one of Sam’s final field assignments and, being Sam, he was following it to its final conclusion, helping the local team finalize their court case. Delegation was not and had never been his default setting.
“You’re also Art Crime Team?” Martinez asked J.J. She had a pretty smile, but then tall, dark, and handsome Russell brought out the pretty smiles in women, young and old.
“God no.”
Jason said, “It’s more of a hostage situation in Russell’s case,” and the others—including Russell—laughed.
“He thinks he’s kidding,” Russell said.
“Yeah, no I don’t.”
Petty said, “I can tell you one thing, if there’s ever an opening on his team, I’m going for it.”
Jason smiled politely. Back to Sam, because no way was Petty talking about signing on with Jason or the ACT. It was doubtful he even registered on Petty’s consciousness beyond being someone who had spent significant time with Sam.
He glanced at Martinez, who was eyeing her partner with affectionate resignation.
J.J. said, “You know, you’re
talking to Kennedy’s BFF.”
BFF could have meant exactly that—best buds—but Martinez’s instant, “Oh,” indicated she’d interpreted correctly. As did Petty, given his almost comical change of expression.
Jason directed a look at J.J., who said, “Hey, it’s the truth.”
Petty’s mouth curved, but that was as far as the smile went. “Lucky you,” he said.
Chapter Two
Awkward as hell.
Jason had never imagined Sam was a monk—nor that he was the first field agent Sam had propositioned—but for some reason, he hadn’t anticipated ever running into one of Sam’s sexual partners. Or at least, not recognizing the situation if he did. This Awkward Moment meme was all due to the coincidence of Sam’s schedule for once syncing with his own.
The weird thing was, Petty wasn’t even Sam’s type. Sam’s type ran to, well, Jason’s type. Tall, lanky, dark-haired guys with high cheekbones and angular jaws. Guys who looked like Ethan. He found himself disconcerted that Sam had strayed from pattern, though he wasn’t sure why it made him uneasy.
As the blue-uniformed waitress approached, Martinez said, “We really ought to get going. We were just going to grab something quick.”
“You haven’t even ordered yet,” protested J.J., supremely oblivious to the undercurrents at the table.
The restaurant door opened with a whoosh of summery, dry Montana air, and a tall, thin man with sharp features, thinning dark hair, and a pointed beard entered. He looked around inquiringly.
“Here’s our guy,” Jason said. He glanced at J.J. “Why don’t you go ahead and finish your breakfast. I’ll fill you in on the drive.”
J.J. gave him a look of gratitude, and Jason nodded his farewell to Martinez and Petty, slid out of the booth, and went to meet Dutch investigator Hans de Haan.
“Agent West?” De Haan recognized him before Jason reached him. De Haan’s lean, ascetic face brightened. Behind round spectacles that emphasized his vaguely stork-like appearance, his shiny dark eyes warmed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Jason shook his hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Mr. de Haan. You’ve done incredible work on this case.” He meant that. He had the greatest respect for de Haan despite the can of worms de Haan’s investigation had opened up for him personally.
