Authors: Allie K. Adams
"Are you really going to have them reassign me?"
"Be grateful. I'm going to work on HQ for you so that you
may
still have a job when you get back. After what you did, not only is that grounds for dismissal, you could go to prison."
"You want me to be grateful? For what? For sending me back to the beginning? Or sealing my fate? They'll never give me another chance. I'll be lucky to work at McDonald's after this."
"You're right," he barked back, his temper rising. He took a breath, calmed his voice. He couldn't allow himself to show emotion, not this late in the game. "You may not even get a desk job after this."
He thought of how Donovan was lucky enough to get a desk job after his screw up. It was the best thing that ever happened to the bastard. He rose to the top, promoted into HQ within the first year after reassignment. Would JT Turner get the same lucky break? Would Dan be taking orders from her by this time next year?
Jesus God, he hoped not. He never wanted to see her again. And couldn't stand the thought of never seeing her again. Jesus, Damn, and Shit.
"But I'm a NASSD agent!" She shouted at him, pounding her fist on the table for emphasis. "I worked my ass off to get where I am. You can't take that away from me. I was on my way out until this assignment. I'm back in now!"
Raising his voice to match hers, he bit back. "No, you're not. NASSD agents don't endanger fellow agents by making stupid mistakes. They don't trust the wrong person. A good agent trusts no one. You aren't cut out for NASSD, Turner."
It came out before he could stop it. He didn't mean it. Hell, she was more cut out for NASSD than anyone else he knew. He knew how it must have sounded to her. He didn't say it to hurt her. But he did. He felt like an ass.
But he wasn't about to explain himself. She could think whatever she wanted. He'd be doing her a favor getting her out of the Field Ops Unit. Before she ended up losing more than her title, her precious status.
JT lowered her gaze to the table, the light in her eyes faded. Did her face have to show so much expression?
"JT—"
JT cleared her throat. "We'd better get a couple more of these to go and get back to the warehouse before Stevens and Brooks send out a search party. We should get a game plan going. Maybe reporting in to the
real
HQ for starters."
Dan growled. He was never very good with words. "Listen to me."
"I don't want to listen to you." She jumped up from the table and cleared it quickly. "Just forget it. I got the message. It's a good thing you're perfect."
"Come again?"
She slammed the door under her sink after dropping the waste from their dinner into the trash. "Tell me, oh Great One. Is perfection hard to maintain?"
"What the hell are you getting at?"
"It's what you expect out of others, isn't it? With Stevens, back in the RV."
"As a field agent, there is a certain level of perfection required.
Opie
couldn't even shoot his gun!"
"Fine. I'll give you that. What about me? Since you are obviously faultless in anything you do, you expect the same out of me. Out of anyone."
Dan lowered his eyes. Damn if her words didn't strike a cord, and hit too close for comfort. He pushed away from the table and stood. "Thank you,
Dr. Freud
, for your professional—albeit bullshit—opinion. You know nothing about me. Let's keep it that way."
After those harsh words, Dan expected JT to come at him with drawn claws. He expected her to tell him where to go and how to get there. What he didn't expect was her to smile that knowing smile.
Son-of-a-bitch. She already knew too much about him.
JT felt like a fool. Shot down twice in one day. Shot at twice in one day. This was turning out to be a peachy day. She finished tying her boots and stood to leave.
She really hated Mondays.
To hell with Dan Weber. She didn't need him. As soon as she could, she'd break away before he took her back to HQ. If she could find Jason Peck, take
"Ready?"
JT nodded, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. Those eyes, so compelling and yet so cool, would bear down on her, judge her. She'd spent the last year of her life being judged by others back at
Gahanna
. She didn't need it from the great Dan Weber, too.
To think, she'd actually looked up to him. Boy what a joke placing her admiration in someone like him. He was nothing more than an arrogant prick. Not NASSD material? Hah! She'd show him.
She grabbed a hair band off the front door handle, wrapped her hair in a tight knot. So tight, in fact, that it pulled at her scalp and brought tears to her eyes.
Toughen up, Turner
. This isn't the end of the world. She'd find a way to turn this around.
"You aren't talking."
She thinned her lips, still wouldn't look at him. "You're observant."
"Listen, Turner. It's nothing personal. Don't take offense."
"None taken."
"Yeah. I can tell."
As an act of good faith, JT turned and attempted a smile. Just as she expected, those captivating blue eyes bore down on her. Instead of judging, they assessed her. His eyes narrowed right before she looked away. She hated the way she still wanted him even after everything he'd said to her. And she also hated the her emotions showed on her face. It was the number one reason why her Uncle Charlie said she'd never be NASSD material.
Well, she'd show him, just like she'd show the infamous Dan Weber. To hell with telling him why.
"JT..."
Damn. He could see right through her.
"No, JT. You are not going after Peck. This guy is dangerous."
More dangerous than what she went through today? "I'll be fine. Let's go."
"You wouldn't even know where to look for him."
"I found him once, I can find him again."
He stopped her with a hand on her right arm. She tried to jerk away, but he tightened his grip. The sudden jerking motion hurt her wound, bringing another round of stinging tears to her eyes. "You didn't find him,
he
found
you
. You don't know him like I do."
"I'll be fine," she repeated.
"Do you have a death wish?"
Did she? She narrowly escaped twice today, and only because Dan was there to save her ass. The next time she might not be so lucky to have him as a personal bodyguard. She wanted him to stick around, wanted to partner with him and go after Peck, but Dan didn't want that.
Oh, and let's not forget. He didn't want
her
.
He seemed the type to only want to work alone. God only knew a wild boar would show more warmth.
"You are not going after this guy. That's an order."
Order
? Her eyes burned as she looked at him. "You are not my superior. You may think you're better than me, but you're not. You're not even as good a person as me. You want to know why? Because I would never degrade you to make myself feel better. I would never say something so mean, just for spite. So you can take that holier-than-thou attitude and shove it up your ass, Dan Weber. Now let me go." Her voice shook by the time she finished.
He did. JT hesitated, her eyes still locked with his. Her words struck him, she could see it on that arrogantly handsome face. His features softened. As he lowered his gaze away from hers, she felt like shit. Lashing out at him didn't make her feel any better, much to her dismay. Instead, it made her feel worse.
As she turned and opened her front door, he spoke. "You're right."
His words stopped her in her tracks. Against her better judgment, she turned back to him. "About what?"
He waved his hand. "All that stuff you just said."
She couldn't help but smile at his words. Could he be any more alpha? "Is that your version of an apology?"
He cocked his brow. "It's all you're going to get, lady. Take it or leave it." They stepped out into the hall and Dan grabbed his cell off his hip. "Let's hope this thing still works."
He flipped it opened and dialed. JT started down the stairs, careful to not get too far ahead of Dan so she could listen in on his conversation.
"Weber." A few grunts. "Yes, we're still alive. Don't sound so disappointed. Donovan, calm down. It was a joke. Yes, I assume the female they're talking about on the radio is Turner, but no I haven't been listening to the local stations.. No, it wasn't my team chasing her. How can I be sure? Because we aren't fucking stupid."
A few more grunts. "He did, did he? That kid needs to go back to school. He couldn't fire his weapon. He's useless. He'd be better off—" he paused. JT looked back to see him studying her rather intently. Obviously her Freudian
bullshit
analysis made some sort of an impact on him, even if he outright denied it. He sighed, but it came out more like a growl. "Turner got his weapon away before he could hurt himself, or any of us. Get that kid more training before sending him out again. Send Brooks back to ICE. The man belongs behind a computer, not out in the field."
He looked back at her as if to say,
see? I can be a nice guy
. Then he winked, nearly bringing her to her knees. She turned back around and continued down the stairs, trying hard to ignore the heat shooting through her head to toe, a kind of hot searing heat that reminded a woman she was, indeed, a woman.
Not fair. What right did he have making her feel so hot and bothered, and wanting him so bad she could barely control the throbbing between her thighs? He planned to send her back. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. She hated him. And she was pretty sure she wouldn't be getting a Christmas card from him.
"No, she isn't the mole. It's Peck. Because I saw him." Dan grounded out a curse. "Donovan, enough. I'm bringing Turner in for deprogramming. You can ask her then."
JT stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for Dan, her mind focused on one word. Deprogramming. Is that what they called it? She'd failed as a NASSD agent. Would they strip her of her training merits? How? Electric shock? Or worse?
A shiver ripped through her. Failed! She couldn't get that word out of her head. She shouldn't consider it a complete failure. After all, she did scuff up the disc enough so Peck couldn't use it, didn't she?
So why did she feel about an inch tall? Dan Weber constantly reminding her of her mistakes didn't help. At least she'd be rid of him soon enough. And then she'd find Peck.
He stopped next to her and shook his head when he met her eyes. "No," he mouthed. JT felt like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The all powerful Dan Weber couldn't read thoughts, could he? The way they presented him at
Gahanna
made it sound like he could do that and more. Hell, they made it sound like he was some Superman.
Eyeing him, she wondered what would be his kryptonite. He didn't have any weaknesses that she could see. As much as she'd love to be labeled as his weakness, she knew better. The man didn't want to get involved. Co-mingle. Have sexual congress.
In other words, he didn't want to have
sex
with her.
Dan pinched the skin between his brows, closed his eyes. "No, Donovan. I work alone. As a matter of fact, yes. That way, I won't misplace my trust." Dan stole a sideways glance at JT. She ran her nail over her lower lip, back and forth, back and forth. Dan watched with keen interest. She stopped, lowered her hand to her side.
He went back to his conversation with Donovan. "It happened once, could happen again. I won't always be there."
Dan's face suddenly paled, his brow pulled into a frown. "When? Jesus God. Johnson was a good man." He paused for several seconds. JT watched as he swallowed over and over. She fought the urge to run to his side, pull him into her arms and comfort him.
"I'm fine. Yeah, we could use a lift." He scanned their surroundings, stopping when he spotted Mr. Wong's Restaurant sign. He spouted off the address into the phone. "We'll be waiting." He slammed his phone shut.
"Bad news?" JT had to say something. After several seconds of watching Dan's eyes cloud over with some sort of mixed emotion, she could no longer stand the silence.
He looked at her, but she could tell by the distant look in his eyes he didn't really see her. The corners of his lips pulled slightly as he attempted a grin, then decided against it.
"You really hate Peck, don't you?"
"Yeah." He kept his eyes straight forward, held no expression on his face. Even with the single-syllable word, she could hear the tension, the undeniable grief in his tone.
"Mind if I ask why?"
"Yes."
Okaaay
. Not in the mood for conversation. JT looked around. The Chinatown-International District seemed still and lifeless at this time of night. South Dearborn Street, usually a main thoroughfare for downtown Seattle, was quiet. They stood facing South Lane Street, which was also deserted except for the occasional homeless finding refuge on a bus stop bench.
Uwajimaya Village, a 66,000 sq. ft. complex housing the largest Japanese supermarket in the Pacific Northwest, appeared dark and unwelcome behind them. The usual hustle and bustle of the popular tourist attraction apparently stopped when the sun went down.
JT had rarely visited the heart of the village, and now for some reason felt a sense of regret. Mr. Wong's Restaurant directly below her apartment was the only place she ever ate, even though there were dozens of Asian eateries to choose from.
But she liked the Wongs, wanted to see them succeed in America. Their restaurant was small and in a bad location compared to the rest of the village restaurants, shoved off into the corner with the really lousy apartments, like JT's.
Her apartment. JT didn't want to think about total strangers rifling around through her stuff, invading her personal space. She'd never taken this job personally.
Until now.
She stole a glance at the man standing next to her. He didn't seem to give a rat's ass about her. He even told her it wasn't personal. So why did she take everything extremely personal when it came to him?
"Who's Johnson?" Please don't let him be Fred Johnson from the
Nothing. This guy made a mime seem more talkative.
"Was he a friend of yours?"
Talk to me, damn you.
With a sigh that seemed to stem from his soul, he looked at her. She could sense his irritation, along with something else she couldn't read. That look in his eyes made her wish she hadn't said anything at all. Silence wasn't that bad. Not when the alternative was having this man look ready to chew up nails and spit them at her.
"Sorry," she offered after he removed that penetrating glare away. Apology offered too little, too late. "I guess you aren't in a very talkative mood."
"And yet," he threw back, "you keep talking to me."
JT bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from responding. Why was she trying to be nice to this guy?
"How did he die?" She was a glutton for punishment.
"Drop it, Turner."
She didn't want to drop it.
"Why don't you want to talk about it? You know, talking through your issues is very therapeutic."
He abruptly turned to her. "Fine. You want to know what happened? He trusted the wrong—" he stopped and glanced up at her hair.
Her hair?
JT brought her fingers up to the area his eyes seemed fixed on. He blinked, brought his gaze back to her face. "Person. And it got him killed. They found him in his kitchen with a nice .45 frontal lobotomy, and five more in his back. Is that enough information for you, Turner?"
Shaking his head, he turned and faced forward again. JT felt terrible. She should have never pushed. He kept shaking his head and muttering a certain cuss word JT now recognized as his favorite. "I'm sorry I said anything."
"So am I."
Talk about making a person feel bad. JT mentally gave him the finger. Choosing to ignore the grumpy bastard, she pulled the knot out of the back of her hair and combed her fingers through the shoulder-length mess now that it had started to dry.
The way he glared at her hair bothered her. What did he have against it? Maybe there was something caught in the front. She bent over and shook her fingers as she brushed through the front. Nothing fell out.
Then why did he look at her hair like that?
JT flipped her hair back and knotted it again. It was still damp from her shower. She noticed how many times he stole a sideways glance at her as she played with her hair. After several seconds of him staring at her hair, she snapped, "What? What do you have against my hair? Too long? Too dark?"