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“What else is there to do now?” Jasmine asked.
“Nothing, I’ve got the drone’s batteries charging now, and the night-vision camera is already mounted. Once Wells confirms we have everything and the second boat is picked up and loaded, then we’re ready, but we need to wait until it’s dark,” Guy said.
“So what I’m hearing is there’s time to go get an ice cream cone?” Jasmine asked.
“If that’s how you want to fill the next couple of hours, sure, be my guest,” Guy said with a chuckle.
Jasmine grabbed Jones’ hand. “You’re coming with me. You have the cash,” she said as she pulled him out of the room. Just like that, there were only four of us left.
“It feels weird to have free time,” Abby said suddenly.
“Yeah, it happens occasionally. We can’t always be moving. We need downtime for the success of the mission, not to mention it’s better to act at opportune times, like night,” Yates said, dropping a truth nugget.
“Hah, yeah, I guess so,” she said with a snort and rolled her eyes. Yates was talking to an FBI agent; she knew that already. She was just stating an observation.
“Let’s go kill some free time,” I told her.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“Do you want them to hear?” I asked as I motioned to the other two in the room. I still wanted her to redo that interrogation from earlier, but with me as the suspect. I swore if Guy’s face could turn pink, it would have. Yates rolled his eyes at us and pretended to gag.
“Adios, losers,” I said as I tugged Abby out of the room.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” I told her once we were in the hall.
“That’s not what you implied in the room,” she said with a smirk.
“I just said that so those idiots wouldn’t join us. I don’t need them crashing our date,” I told her with a wink.
“You know this is very far from a date,” she said jokingly.
“I bet your idea of chasing down bad guys would totally be a date with the right guy,” I told her.
She was silent for a moment as she considered my words.
“You’re probably right. Work is too big a part of my life for it not interfere in my dating life too. I probably would consider that a first date,” she said with a smirk.
“So why can’t we grab food and call it a date?” I asked her. I was half teasing but also half serious, because deep down I could feel hesitation from her. She had no problem letting me fuck her brains out, but when it came time for any sort of emotional intimacy, she shied away from it completely.
“Because I’m not going out on dates with anyone. That implies I’m looking for a relationship, which I’m not.”
“Even with this explosive chemistry we’ve got going on?” I asked.
We were in the elevator, and I wished I had waited to ask when we got to a table in the lobby area. That area was wide open with room to breathe, not a tiny elevator car that we were both trapped in, regretting my words.
“We’ve got chemistry, but as far as I can remember, relationships are a lot more than that. Most importantly, they are a commitment, which I don’t have the time or energy to make,” she said, and then the doors opened.
I felt slightly defeated, but I’d keep trying. Everyone had their issues. Hell, Christine and Wells had PTSD to work through, and Jasmine and Jones had a complicated past they had to sort out. Abby needed time to sort through her commitment issues, and I’d be waiting when she did.
We loaded up food from the buffet bar and found an empty table.
“So you’re telling me that even though you and I have something good, you don’t want it?” I asked, giving one last metaphorical shove before I dropped the topic for tonight.
“I’m telling you that while you and I work well together, it can’t be anything more than it is now. I’m not saying this to hurt you; if anything, I’m being honest and upfront to spare your feelings. You’re a good guy who has served his country well. You deserve to be happy, like Wells and Jones are, but I can’t be the one to make you happy. I’ve got a career that I worked damn hard for, and I can’t give that up, no matter how good you are at fucking me,” she said.
Her words wounded and healed me at the same time. She was letting me down but throwing compliments in there so that it wouldn’t hurt as badly. A compliment sandwich.
“What if I could make you happier than your job? I’m not rich like Jones or Christine, but we could keep doing these bounty-hunting gigs. You’d still be able to put away assholes like you are now. The only difference is it would be without a badge,” I offered.
