The bolt lock clicked, and I pushed through. I walked down the hall and then through a door before seeing Thomas standing alone, watching Agent Grove question an unknown subject--also known as an unsub--a sullen, lanky Asian man in a bright track suit.
"Agent Lindy," Thomas said.
I crossed my arms, aware that my white blouse was wet and I was cold. "How long has he been at it?"
"Not long. The subject has been cooperating."
I listened to them conversing in Japanese. Immediately, I frowned.
"What made you come this way?" Thomas asked.
"I had some questions about a few of Grove's transcriptions. I need your permission to speak with him."
"For the Yakuza case?"
"Yes."
He hummed, unaffected. "Your function here is confidential."
"Someone left a stack of his reports on my door. I assumed Grove knew I was also a specialist and wanted me to look them over."
"Assumptions are dangerous, Liis. I put them there."
"Oh."
"Did you find anything?"
"A lot of things."
I looked through the glass at the three people inside. Another agent was sitting in the corner, taking notes but otherwise looking extremely bored.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Pittman. He wrecked his third vehicle. He's on desk duty for a while."
I looked to Thomas. He was unreadable.
"You don't seem surprised that I found some discrepancies," I said, watching Grove through the one-way mirror. I pointed. "There. He just translated that eleven former members of Yakuza are living in a building that also houses other subjects of Bureau investigations."
"So?"
"The unsub relayed that the members are in fact current members of Yakuza, and their number is eighteen, not eleven. Grove's omitting. He's either shit at Japanese, or he's unreliable."
Agent Grove stood and then left the unsub in the room alone with the transcribing agent. He slowly walked out before closing the door behind him. When he saw the two of us, he startled but quickly recovered.
"Agent Maddox," he said in a nasal tone.
Anyone else might have missed the slight trembling in his fingers when he pushed up his glasses. He was a pudgy man with copper skin. His eyes were so dark that they were nearly black, and his wiry mustache twitched when he spoke.
Thomas gestured to me with the same hand that held his coffee. "This is Agent Lindy, the new supervisor for Squad Five."
"I've heard the name," Grove said, eyeing me. "From Chicago?"
"Born and raised."
Grove had the look I'd seen often right before a person asked me if I was Korean, Japanese, or Chinese. He was trying to decide if I could speak the language he had been incorrectly translating.
"Maybe you should come in here and help. He's got a weird accent. Keeps tripping me up," Grove said.
I shrugged. "Me? I don't speak Japanese. I've been thinking of taking lessons though."
Thomas spoke up, "Maybe you could work with her, Grove?"
"Like I have time for that," he grumbled, mindlessly rubbing his sweaty palms against each other.
"Just a thought," Thomas said.
"I'm grabbing coffee. I'll see you around."
Thomas lifted his chin once, waiting until Agent Grove left the room.
"Good call," Thomas said, watching Pittman doodle.
"How long have you known?" I asked.
"I've had my suspicions for at least three months. I was sure when I missed an arrest after walking in on an empty room that I knew had been crawling with Yakuza two days prior."
I raised an eyebrow.
Thomas shrugged. "I was going to bring him in to translate the Title Threes we'd gotten on Benny's guys in Vegas, but after that missed arrest, I thought better of it. Instead, I wanted to bring in someone new, someone better."
"Someone who wasn't a double agent?"
Thomas turned to me with the smallest hint of a smile. "Why do you think I brought you here?"
"Will you arrest him?" I asked. "What will you do?"
He shrugged. "I doubt we'll keep using him as a translator."
I made a face. "I'm serious."
"Me, too."
Thomas walked with me down the hall and out to the parking lot, tossing his coffee and opening an umbrella. "You should invest in one of these, Liis. It's spring, you know."
He hadn't said my name as acerbically as before. He'd spoken it softly, his tongue caressing each letter, and I found myself glad that we had the excuse of the rain to keep close.
I dodged puddles, inwardly enjoying it when Thomas struggled to keep the umbrella over my head. Finally, he resorted to putting his free hand around my waist and squeezing me to his side. If we came upon a puddle, he could simply and effortlessly lift me over it.
"I have never liked the rain," Thomas said as we stopped in front of the lobby doors while he shook off his umbrella. "But I might have changed my mind."
I grinned up at him, trying my best not to make obvious the ridiculous giddiness I felt over his innocent flirtation.
Once inside the lobby of the main building, Thomas was back to his typical ASAC demeanor. "I'll need a FD-three-oh-two on your findings by the end of the day. I'm going to need to report this to the S.A.C."
"On it," I said, turning for the elevator.
"Liis?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be working out today?"
"Not today. I'm having lunch with Val."
"Oh."
I relished the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "I'll be there tomorrow."
"Yeah, okay," he said, trying to play off the small blow to his ego.
If he looked any unhappier, I wouldn't be able to thwart the smile threatening to break out across my face.
Once inside the elevator, when the thrill wore off, I was thoroughly annoyed with myself. I'd essentially kicked him out of my bedroom the night we met because I was sure I would be too busy enjoying my freedom. Being with Jackson had been suffocating, and a transfer had seemed like the perfect solution.
Why in the hell do I feel this way about Thomas? Despite my feelings about starting a new relationship and considering his temper and emotional baggage, what is it about him that makes me lose my ability to reason?
Whatever it was, I needed to get a handle on it. We had to focus on getting through our assignment in St. Thomas, and something messy like feelings wouldn't help anyone.
The elevator opened to reveal Val smiling brightly in the hallway. After taking in the sight of me, her good mood vanished. "Haven't you heard of an umbrella, Liis? Jesus."
I rolled my eyes. "You act as if I'm covered in dog shit. It's rain."
She followed me to my office and sat in one of the twin chairs in front of my desk. She crossed her legs and arms and glared at me. "Spill it."
"What are you talking about?" I said, kicking off my heels and placing them next to each other by the floor vent.
"Really?" She tucked her chin. "Don't be that girl. Chicks before dicks."
I sat down and laced my fingers together on top of my desk. "Just tell me what you want to know, Val. I have things to do. I think I just got Agent Grove fired--or arrested."
"What?" Her eyebrows shot up for half a second, and then she was frowning again. "You might be an ace at diversion, but I know when someone's not telling me something, and you, Liis, have a secret."
I covered my eyes with my hand. "How can you tell? I've got to get better at this."
"What do you mean, how can I tell? Do you know how many interrogations I've sat in on? I just know. I'd say I'm psychic, but that's stupid, so I'll just say, 'Thank you, Dad, for being a cheating bastard and heightening my bullshit-o-meter.'"
I pulled my hand away and gave her a look.
"What? I tell the truth--unlike you, you...fake, foul friend."
I wrinkled my nose. "That was harsh."
"So is knowing that your friend doesn't t
rust you."
"It's not that I don't trust you, Val. It's just none of your business."
Val stood and walked around the club chair, placing her hands on the back. "Quite frankly, I'd rather you not trust me. And...you're no longer invited to Fuzzy's."
"What?" I shrieked. "C'mon!"
"No. No Fuzzy's for you. And they love me, Liis. Do you know what that means? No Fuzzy's for lunch. No Fuzzy's forever." She emphasized every syllable of the last word. Then, she widened her eyes and turned on her heels before shutting the door behind her.
I crossed my arms and pouted.
Five seconds later, my landline rang, and I picked up the phone. "Lindy," I snapped.
"Hurry up. I'm hungry."
I smiled, grabbed my purse and shoes, and hurried to the hall.
"SO," VAL SAID AS SHE CHEWED, wiping the mixture of mayo and mustard from the corner of her mouth, "you have a date with Maddox in three weeks. Is that what you're telling me?"
I frowned. "No. It was what you pulled out of me."
She smiled, pursing her lips to keep the large bite of BLT from tumbling out.
I rested my chin on my fist, pouting. "Why can't you just leave things alone, Val? I need him to trust me."
She swallowed. "How many times have I told you? There are no secrets in the Bureau. Maddox should have assumed that I'd find out eventually. He's acutely aware of my talents."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Curb the jealousy, O.J. I mean that Maddox knows we're friends, and he knows I can sniff out any secret better than a coon dog."
"A coon dog? Who are you right now?"
"My grandparents live in Oklahoma. I used to visit every summer," she said dismissively. "Listen, you're doing a crackerjack job as supervisor. The S.A.C. clearly has an eye on you. You're going to be at Quantico before you can say office affair."
I nearly choked on my fry. "Val, you're killing me."
"He can't keep his eyes off of you."
I shook my head. "Stop."
She teased me with a knowing look. "He smiles sometimes when you walk by. I don't know. It's kind of cute. I've never seen him like this."
"Shut up."
"So, what about Travis's wedding?"
I shrugged. "We're going to spend the night in Illinois, and then we'll go to St. Thomas."
Val's grin was contagious.
I chuckled. "What? Knock it off, Val! It's work."
She threw a fry at me, and then she allowed me to finish my lunch in peace.
We left Fuzzy's to head back to the office.
As we passed Marks's office, he waved at Val. "Hey! Meet me at Cutter's tonight," he said.
"Tonight?" She shook her head. "No, I have to buy groceries."
"Groceries?" he said, making a face. "You don't cook."
"Bread. Salt. Mustard. I have nothing," she said.
"Meet me afterward. Maddox is coming." His eyes floated to me for just a fraction of a second, long enough to make my cheeks flush pink.
I retreated to my office, not wanting to seem eager to hear of Thomas's plans. Just as I sat in my throne and woke up my laptop, Sawyer knocked on the partially open door.
"Bad time?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, rolling the mouse. I clicked on the icon for my email and frowned as I read the numerous subject lines. "How in the hell does this happen? I'm gone for an hour, and I have thirty-two new messages."
Sawyer shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb. "We're needy. There's an email from me."
"Great."
"Do you want to go to Cutter's tonight?"
"Is that the only bar in the neighborhood?"
He shrugged, walking toward my desk and falling into a chair. He leaned back, his knees spread and his fingers intertwined at his chest.
"This isn't my living room, Agent."
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, sitting up. "Cutter's is just where we go. It's close for a lot of us who live in the area."
"Why do so many of us live in that area?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Housing has a good relationship with the property owners. It's fairly close to the office. It's a nice neighborhood, and for Midtown, it's pretty affordable." He smiled. "There's a little eatery in Mission Hills called Brooklyn Girl. It's pretty fantastic. Want to go there?"
"Where is Mission Hills?"
"About ten minutes from your condo."
I thought about it for a second. "Just food, right? It's not a date."
"God, no--not unless you want to buy me dinner."
I chuckled. "No. Okay. Brooklyn Girl at eight thirty."
"Boom," he said, standing.
"What was that?"
"I don't have to eat alone. Pardon me while I celebrate."
"Get out of here," I said, waving him away.
Sawyer cleared his throat, and then I noticed the door hadn't closed when it should have. I glanced up to see Thomas standing in the doorway. His short hair was still damp from his post-workout shower.
"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.
"Long enough."
I barely acknowledged his taunt. "You really should stop hovering in my doorway. It's creepy."
He sighed, shutting the door behind him before approaching my desk. He sat, waiting patiently, while I looked over my emails.
"Liis."
"What?" I said from behind the monitor.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking my email, also known as work. You should try it."
"You used to call me sir."
"You used to make me." An awkward long silence prompted me to lean over and meet his eyes. "Don't make me explain."
"Explain what?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.
I looked away, annoyed, and then gave in. "It's just dinner."
"At Brooklyn Girl."
"So?"
"It's my favorite restaurant. He knows that."
"Jesus, Thomas. This is not a pissing match."
He considered that for a moment. "Maybe not to you."
I shook my head in frustration. "What does that even mean?"
"Do you remember the night we met?"
Every bit of my sass and nerve melted away, and I instantly felt the same way I had the first few seconds after he climaxed inside me. The awkwardness put me in my place faster than intimidation ever could.
"What about it?" I asked, chewing on my thumbnail.
He hesitated. "Did you mean what you said?"
"Which part?"
He stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, planning what he would say next. "That you're emotionally unavailable."
He hadn't just taken me off guard. All my guards were taken off faster than any other offed guards in the history of offed guards.
"I don't know how to answer that," I said. Well done, Liis!
"Does that go for everyone or just me?" he asked.
"Nor that."
"I've just been..." His expression changed from casually flirty to curious and flirty. "Who's the SWAT guy you left behind in Chicago?"
I glanced behind me as if someone who might be hanging on the seventh-floor window could hear. "I'm at work, Thomas. Why the hell are we talking about this now?"
"We can talk about it over dinner if you'd like."
"I have plans," I said.
The skin around his eyes tightened. "A date?"
"No."
"If it's not a date, then Sawyer won't care."
"I'm not canceling on him because you want to win whatever game you're playing. This is already old. You make me tired."
"Then, it's settled. We'll discuss your ex-ninja at my favorite restaurant at eight thirty." He stood.
"No, we won't. None of that sounds appealing--at all."
He looked around and playfully pointed at his chest.
"No, you're not appealing either," I snapped.
"You're a terrible liar for a fed," Thomas said with a smirk. He walked to my door and opened it.
r /> "What is with everyone today? Val is acting crazy, and you're insane...and arrogant, by the way. I just want to come to work, go home, and maybe not eat alone once in a while with whomever the hell I want to, without drama or whining or contests."
The whole of Squad Five was staring into my office.
I gritted my teeth. "Unless you have an update for me, Agent Maddox, please allow me to continue my current task."
"Have a good day, Agent Lindy."
"Thank you," I said in a huff.
Before he closed the door, he poked his head back in. "I was just getting used to you calling me Thomas."
"Get out of my office, Thomas."
He shut the door, and my cheeks burned bright as an uncontrollable smile spread across my face.
Miniature rivers rushed down each side of the street, a city's worth of dirt and debris escaping down the large square drains at each intersection. Tires sloshed in high-pitched tones as they careened down the wet asphalt, and I stood in front of the striped awning and large glass windows that featured Brooklyn Girl in vintage font.
I couldn't stop smiling about the fact that I wasn't saddled with a heavy coat. The low clouds overhead were backlit by the moon, and the sky had spit and poured on San Diego off and on all day, yet there I stood in a sleeveless white blouse, a coral linen blazer, and skinny jeans with sandals. I'd wanted to wear my suede slingback heels, but I hadn't wanted to chance getting them wet.
"Hey," Sawyer said into my ear.
I turned and smiled, elbowing him.
"I got us a table," Thomas said, breezing past us and opening the door. "Three, right?"
Sawyer looked like he'd swallowed his tongue.
Thomas's eyebrows lifted. "Well? Let's eat. I'm starved."
Sawyer and I traded glances, and I walked in first, followed by Sawyer.
Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood at the hostess's podium.
"Thomas Maddox," the young woman said, a sparkle in her eye. "It's been a long time."
"Hi, Kasie. Table for three, please."
"Right this way." Kasie smiled, taking three menus and leading us to a corner booth.
Sawyer sat first near the wall, and I sat in the chair next to him, leaving Thomas to sit across from us. Both men looked happy with the arrangement at first, but Thomas's eyebrows pulled together when Sawyer scooted his chair a bit closer to mine.
I suspiciously eyed him. "I thought this was your favorite restaurant?"
"It is," Thomas said.
"She said you haven't been in here in a long time."
"Nope."
"Why?" I asked.
"Didn't you used to bring your girl here?" Sawyer asked.
Thomas lowered his chin and glowered at Sawyer, but when Thomas's eyes met mine, his features softened. He looked down, situating his silverware and napkin. "The last time I came here was with her."