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“What is that supposed to mean? This isn’t about us. It’s about the case. Someone is tampering with the evidence.”
“If you’d open your eyes, you’d see I’m in love with you. I’m right in front of you, and you don’t see me because all you care about is the case. Work over everything else! Where does that leave us?”
Cal jumps in to answer Sawyer’s question about the big fish since I’m busy with my delicious drink and trip down shitty memory lane. “That’s where it gets dicey. To go after the higher-ups, and Lenkov specifically, law enforcement needs to follow the money and get the smaller fish to turn on the big ones. But those kinds of deals almost always involve the feds. Until we find out who at the FBI or justice department is in Lenkov’s pocket, we don’t want to rock the boat. For now, the lower-level guys are the best we can get.”
For the next few minutes, the group tosses out suggestions and asks a few more questions about the case, but I mostly check out. I offer a head nod here. Ayeah surethere.
Bitterness at how things ended with Tony blends discordantly with self-loathing over the snooping I did on everyone at this table before coming to Redleg. I care about these people. Unlike me, the coward, they’re all good, kind, brave souls. They didn’t deserve to have their lives put under a microscope. I had no right to judge them the way I did.
Threat or no threat.
Liability or asset.
I’m pathetic.
Cal notices the shift. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You okay, tiger?”
With my mouth sealed tight around my straw, I nod but can’t speak. My thoughts are too frantic.
I want to say so many things. The need to be honest with everyone I care about thrums wildly through my veins, leaving me light-headed.
When my mind stops spinning, one thing is perfectly clear.
I need to tell Caleverythingabout my past.
Hold nothing back. Leave no layers of protection to shield myself from heartbreak. I need to wear my heart on my sleeve, just like him.
He deserves to hear the full story about my family and why I left. About my past relationships. About everything I found out about him and everyone else when I investigated them before taking the job at Redleg.
Sometimes I wonder if he realizes I didn’t targetonlyhim. That shouldn’t be something I have to question. I should’ve already come clean with him about everything.
That’s what he meant byearninghim.
Our Sassy Parrot not-so-chance meeting aside, I gathered everything I could onallthe key Redleg players and most of the support staff. Satisfied my inner pimp so nothing could catch me unaware. That’s what I was trained to do. And it’s what I’ve always done to guard myself. Keep everyone at a distance. It was my armor.
But I’m not in the CIA anymore.
I refuse to keep living like I am. People can’t be broken into only two categories.
I turned in my badge before I left Virginia— the one with the eagle and the sixteen-point compass star resting on a shield.
No more shields.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sawyer says, motioning between Cal and me, capturing my attention and shaking me from my melancholy thoughts.
It’s not possible to be sad in his presence, especially while he’s effusing joy out of every pore.
He trains his dark brown eyes on Cal. A dimple prominently deepens on his cheek with his widening grin. “Did you call hertiger? That can’t be what I heard.”
A grumbling sound comes from Cal. “Yeah. So what? You call her princess.” He tips his beer at Sammy. “I’ve made no secret that I’m involved with Mia. What’s the big deal? This isn’t news.”
Sawyer’s smile grows wider until he breaks out in an overdramatic fit of hilarity, complete with thigh slaps and gasping breaths. Through his hoots and snickers, he tries to explain what’s so funny but fails spectacularly. The rest of us glance around, wearing equally stupefied expressions.
“What is so damn funny, babe?” Sammy demands, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him gently. “Calm down and use your words!”
He cushions his face in his palm, the skin of his cheeks and forehead glowing bright red. Once he’s composed himself, he points at Cal. “Calvin and,” he points at me, laughter still shaking his entire torso, “Hobbs. Calvin and Hobbs. The comic strip. Hobbs. Is. A. Tiger.”
Hysteria breaks out so wildly I’d be surprised if they don’t kick us out.
