Hard Beat(21)

Shifting in my seat, I glance down and see Omid’s name on my screen. The ember becomes a damn wildfire at the sight of my most elusive but most trusted source’s name. It takes everything I have to keep myself from pumping my fist in the air, because I feared he had disappeared on me while I was gone.

Or even worse in this land where someone who is your ally one day may turn on you the next, pledging his loyalty and allegiance to the terrorist just to save his own life. The possibility that Omid has been found out and turned against me is never far from my mind.

The familiar adrenaline rush hits me like a first fix to an addict. The rest of the message consumes my thoughts as Pauly drones on about nothing of importance.

“Ah, shit,” I say as I make a show of looking at my watch, causing him to narrow his eyebrows. “I’m gonna get my ass chewed. I missed a conference call with Rafe.” I scoot the chair back as Pauly laughs.

“Man, the jet lag f*cks with your head.”

“Catch up with you in a bit,” I say as I start to walk away from the table.

“Not like I’m going anywhere.”

The minute I turn the corner and walk into the conveniently open elevator car to go up to my room, I enter the pass code to my phone. The message lights up my screen: Meet me at five. The usual place.

I let out the fist pump I’d held back downstairs as the doors open at my floor. I reply to Omid that I’ll be there, excitement ruling my thoughts and trepidation bringing me back down to Earth.

The last time I was out and about in everyday life here was the day of Stella’s death. The fractured images of the events of that day move through my mind like a kaleidoscope, never far from the surface, and of course my discomfort clears the path for me to worry that Omid is setting me up somehow. It’s a possibility with any meet, but I know his hatred runs deep for the terrorist faction that continually reasserts its stronghold in this country after losing his children to their brutality, so I try to shrug away the notion.

Stuck with the lie I told Pauly, I can’t return too quickly to the lobby, so I decide to head up to my room and reward myself with some sleep. Yet within seconds of closing my hotel room door and stripping off my shirt, a knock sounds at my back.

Shit. Pauly caught on somehow. Before I respond, though, he knocks again.

“Dude, hold your horses!” I walk over to the door. Just as my hand grips the handle, I hear Beaux’s muffled voice from the other side, and it surprises the shit out of me.

“Don’t even think you’re heading out without me.”

How in the hell did she know something came up?

When I turn the handle and let the door fall open, we stand motionless as she stares at me with her green, assessing eyes. The damn woman is observant, and I’m not sure if I love that or hate that yet, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out one way or another because she doesn’t seem to be a wilting flower in any sense of the word.

She enters when I take a step backward, and I like that the hard glint in her eyes goes hazy for just a moment when she takes notice of my bare chest. She stares a bit longer than is professional before dragging her eyes over my torso and back up to my face. Can’t say it doesn’t give me a small thrill of satisfaction to know she likes what she sees. Except there’s no way in hell I’m letting her touch me again.

And then of course she opens her mouth and ruins it all. “Going somewhere, Pulitzer?” She stands with her hands on her hips and her head angled to the side.

“You stalking me or something?” I prop my shoulder against the wall and shove my hands deep in the pockets of my cargos.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Last time I checked, I didn’t have to.” I could volley like this all day if she wants to.

“So where are you off to?” she asks again, this time with a bit more impatience.

I gesture toward my bed. “I’m about to take a nap, actually. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, but for some reason I don’t take you for the type who likes to spoon.” I raise my eyebrows in a taunt as I wait for her rebuttal.

But she says nothing. She just stands there with arms akimbo, eyes reflecting her inner struggle over whether to believe me or not.

“I don’t trust you,” she says, throwing my own words at me as she steps backward into the hall.

“Good to know,” I tell her as I shut the door in her face. Feeling like an ass, I stand there for a moment with one hand pressed flat against the door, the other on the handle, and indecision clouding my thoughts.

I’m not sure how long we both stand on opposite sides of the slab of wood waiting the other out, but eventually, I hear her feet shuffle away and the ding of the elevator. I run a hand through my hair and flop on the bed on my back, set my alarm on my phone, and find myself staring at the cracks in the ceiling again.

I can’t help but question myself – technically she is my partner, so why am I keeping the information about the meet from her? For one thing, I’m not ready to have a partner again, not ready for some fresh-faced rookie to come waltzing into this position and fill Stella’s shoes like she never existed.

But I signed up for this, right? Begged to get back here. How can I keep shutting Beaux out when I need to let her the f*ck in so I can do my job to what the brass considers the best of my ability?

Add to that this is going to be my first time out in the field since the day Stella died. Do I really want to be so preoccupied with making sure that Beaux’s okay when the last time I tried that, I failed miserably? Stella’s blood still stains my hands.