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Kirra nodded. “Early twenties.”
“Who do you think her partner was?”
Go ahead, spit it out, it’s pretty obvious.“If it was Melissa Kay, it might have been her older brother, Ryman.”
“Okay. I agree. What do you suggest we do?”
Kirra thought a moment. “Well, you could arrange to plant a bug on her car. I could hear her voice then, and we could see where she goes, who she talks to.”
He met her eyes, smiled. Quite pretty eyes, actually, green as moss. He watched a thick hank of dark brown hair laced with soft blond fall over her shoulder. He slammed on the brakes again and took another bite of the green onion pancake. “Maybe we should be more proactive. Let me think on it awhile, we’ll talk about later. Tell me what you thought of Quantico.”
She wanted to throw her moo shu pork at him. “Well, all the trainees I saw seemed focused, driven.”
“If they weren’t, they wouldn’t last long. It’s four months of grind, both physical and mental. But there’s always some crazy fun.”
“They weren’t kids. Most of those I saw were older than me.”
“The average age of an FBI trainee is thirty-one now. It was a smart decision because right out of college or law school, you don’t have much experience of the world under your belt. And it’s in your twenties you learn a lot about what you really want.”
“Tell me the craziest thing you did.”
“Sorry, state secret. Well, maybe if you give me a soft pillow.”
Kirra spooned some Szechuan beef onto her plate, careful to push the hot red peppers to the side. “If you’re married, I bet your wife would rather have your hide home on a Saturday night than bodyguarding me.”
“Not married.”
“Ever?”
“Close to it once, but it didn’t work out.”
“Do you snore that loud? Do you belch after meals?”
He raised a hand. “No. It was about—something else entirely.” Griffin shut his mouth, shrugged.
Kirra sat forward. “What do you mean it was about something else? Good grief, you cheated on her, didn’t you, and she found you out?”
“No, she was my fiancée. I’d made a commitment. I would never have cheated on her.” He shut his mouth again, wondered why he’d opened it in the first place, and studied his soup.
She nailed him with her prosecutor’s eye. “So then what did you do? Criticize her mother’s meatloaf? Kick her dog? Decide you’re gay?”
Griffin spurted out a laugh. “No, none of the above.”
Kirra tapped her chopsticks on the back of his hand. “Tell you what I’m willing to do. I’ll give you my softest pillow if you tell me what happened.”
He thought about this, tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “All right, but my head better sink right down into that pillow.”
“It’s amazing.” She crossed her finger over her heart.
“It was—well, hell—the fact was Anna was always jealous.”
She cocked her head. “She was jealous? Of you? Why was she jealous?”
“I couldn’t look at another woman without her believing I’d slept with her.” He stopped cold. “And that’s too much, no more, gate’s closed.”
Kirra sat back in her chair, studied him a moment. “Hard to believe, but hey, Griffin, don’t get me wrong. You’re not ugly, I mean, you’re okay looking, and your big draw is you’re an FBI agent, right? Is that it? Or didn’t Anna approve?”
“She was DEA, looked at FBI agents with mild contempt.”
