About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(69)

Perhaps not always the best words to live by.

Kyle warily eyed the two FBI agents—yes, now there were two; apparently they multiplied like wet gremlins—as they pushed open the red privacy curtain and entered the theater box.

“How nice,” he said to Nick. “You brought the guy who nearly snapped my ankle off putting on a monitoring device.”

Nick turned to the tall guy with dark hair and dark eyes next to him. “I totally forgot about that.”

The other agent—Special Agent Jack Pallas, if memory served—looked just as surprised. “You only said you had an extra ticket,” he said to Nick. “You didn’t say who else would be here.”

Nick looked between Jack and Kyle. “This is a little awkward.”

The waitress stepped into the box, having seen the two agents arrive. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”

Four hands shot up. “A beer.”

After the waitress left, Nick and Jack took the two seats in the back row, directly behind Kyle and Dex.

“In my defense,” Jack said to Kyle, “you were flirting with my girlfriend at the time. And you called me Wolverine.”

Kyle smiled to himself, having forgotten that part of the story. On the night he’d been released from prison, the U.S. attorney, Cameron Lynde, along with Agent Pallas, had met with him to explain that she’d arranged for him to serve out the remainder of his sentence on supervised release—all part of Jordan’s deal with the FBI and U.S. Attorney’s Office, although Kyle hadn’t known that at the time.

Seeing as how the U.S. attorney had been the first woman other than Jordan Kyle had seen in four months, and not having realized that she and Pallas were involved, he may have thrown one or two perfectly harmless, mildly flirtatious comments in her direction.

“Maybe you boys could call it even?” Nick suggested, looking between Kyle and Jack.

With a shrug, Jack turned to Kyle. “Not like I have much choice in the matter.” He nodded in Nick’s direction. “McCall here was just promoted to special agent in charge. I don’t want to get shipped off to Peoria on some two-year grunt-work assignment because I screwed things up with the boss’s future brother-in-law.”

Kyle shot Nick a horrified look. “Brother-in-law?”

From the seat next to him, Dex slapped Kyle on the shoulder. “See? And you were worried we wouldn’t have things to talk about.”

FORTUNATELY, ALL NEED for nuanced conversation fell by the wayside once the game started. As part of his promise to Jordan to make an “effort,” Kyle had specifically chosen a Bulls-Knicks game, since Nick was from New York and apparently a huge fan.

And so the lines were drawn. Team rivalry prevailed, replacing the former divide between ex-con and FBI agent, and the trash talk began to fly. They were men, after all—rare was the issue that could not be at least temporarily set aside within the confines of a sports arena.

Just before halftime, however, they hit their first glitch during a time-out.

“So what’s going on with you and Rylann these days?” Dex asked casually.

Kyle froze with his beer halfway to his mouth.

Such a stupid way to get caught.

He’d been out of town since Wednesday and hadn’t had the opportunity to fill Dex in on the clandestine nature of his goings-on with Prosecutrix Pierce. Nor had he had any idea that Nick would bring Rylann’s boss’s boyfriend to the game.

Still, he’d be damned if their cover would be blown on his watch. He’d promised Rylann that he would keep their relationshi—er, hot, no-strings-attached fling—a secret, and he intended to keep that promise. Because if she thought that her boss thought something was up, she would undoubtedly put the kibosh on all future rendezvous.

And he wasn’t ready to give up Rylann quite yet.

So he stretched out in his chair, playing it casual. “Nothing’s going on, unfortunately. She shot me down that night at the club. Something about not mixing business with pleasure.”

Dex frowned, understandably confused, since Kyle had told him he was going to Rylann’s that night, and opened his mouth to say something.

Kyle subtly shook his head.

Dex paused for a split second, then his eyes flickered over to Jack and Nick, seeming to catch on that something was up. So he, too, played it casual. “That sucks. I thought you were in there that night.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “Just wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

“You’re talking about Rylann Pierce?”

The question came from Jack. Kyle looked over his shoulder and saw the FBI agent studying him curiously.

“Good guess,” Kyle said, maintaining a look of nonchalance.

Jack shrugged. “Not really. Unusual name. Plus, I know you worked with her. My partner is Sam Wilkins—he mentioned that Rylann had interviewed you as part of the Quinn investigation.”

Damn FBI agents and assistant U.S. attorneys. Apparently, they were thick as thieves when it came to knowing everyone else’s business. “Oh. Right.”

Jack took a sip of his beer. “When you were working with Rylann, did she ever tell you the meth lab story?”

Kyle studied the agent, thinking he suddenly seemed awfully chatty. He also noticed that Nick was watching both of them closely. “Not that I recall.”