Actual Stop (2 page)

While every agent dreams of going to a permanent protection detail like the Presidential Protective Division or Vice Presidential Protective Division—commonly referred to as PPD and VPD, respectively—those have only so much room. The rest of us in the field—and we have offices covering every state, as well as several overseas—wait to be called to The Show by guarding visiting dignitaries and investigating various crimes. We deal with counterfeiting, financial-institution fraud, credit-card fraud, and identity theft. We also investigate threats against the president, vice-president, their families, former presidents, and foreign heads of state.

Meaghan and I are assigned to the Protective Intelligence Squad, which handles the threat cases. Any time anyone threatens a Secret Service protectee either verbally or in writing, an agent gets sent out to look into it. The majority of the threats we receive are made toward the president or the vice-president, but people also make them against former presidents and their spouses or other dignitaries sometimes, too.

Many times, the people making the threats are just venting. Or drunk. Sometimes they’re just plain nuts. Occasionally, it’s an interesting combination of the three. And every now and again, someone’s just acting like an idiot. But we take each and every threat seriously and investigate it thoroughly because the person making the threat might like to do someone else harm, if given the chance. That’s normally where I come in.

Today, however, I was getting into the spirit of Throwback Thursday. I’d transferred to the PI Squad from the Counterfeit Squad early last year, so I’d become accustomed to a certain type of investigation. This would be a good chance for me to reuse some techniques I hadn’t needed to employ in my PI cases.

My phone rang before Meaghan could find another way to tell me to punt this to the counterfeit guys, and I smiled when I saw the caller ID.

“Hey,” I said as I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” Lucia Mendez, the NYPD Intel detective I’d been seeing, replied. “Where are you?”

“On my way to an interview with Meaghan. Where are you?”

A long pause. “So, I guess it’s safe to say you forgot we had dinner plans.”

My heart sank. I was such an asshole. “Oh, shit. Luce, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?”

I sighed and clenched the steering wheel. “Of course I am. I feel terrible.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard that before.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You never do it on purpose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that lately I feel like your job is more important to you than I am.”

What the hell was she talking about? “Come on. You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

Another pause. “I’m starting to have my doubts.”

Irritation swelled inside me, and I struggled to remain calm. She’d known about my lifestyle when she’d started pursuing me. Hell, we’d met on a detail, so none of this should’ve been a surprise. While I’d been wrong not to cancel tonight, I didn’t appreciate her implication that I didn’t care about her or my job was more important. She was a cop herself. She understood that things cropped up without warning. Or so I’d thought.

“Look, I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I’m still playing catch-up from UNGA, and I’m distracted. That’s all. Once I get out from under my casework, it’ll be better. I promise.” No need to mention that what I was about to do wasn’t strictly within my purview. Nope. None at all.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“Of course. What else would it be?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Hmm. Clearly she had something big on her mind. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to press her on it. For one thing, I wasn’t alone. For another, we were almost at our destination. Time for damage control. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Forget it,” Lucia said, sounding resigned. “We’ll do it another time.”

“I’d really like to see you.”

“And I’d like to see you, too. I—I miss you.”

“Well, then let me come over after I’m done. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Lucia chuckled lightly, and my tension eased. “As great as that sounds, we both know there’s no way for you to tell how long this’ll take. And I have to get up early tomorrow.”

Damn. She wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want her to be waiting on me. “How about tomorrow night? Are you free?”

She hesitated. “Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow night would be great. Be safe, okay?”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.”

I took a deep breath as I re-holstered my phone. What would be the best way to make this up to her? Flowers wouldn’t be enough. Jewelry would be too much. I could offer to cook for her, but I wasn’t great in the kitchen. Maybe I could pick up dessert from her favorite bakery and—

“How’s that going?”

“Hmm? How’s what going?”

Meaghan let out an exasperated huff. “That was your girlfriend on the phone, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“Then who was it?”

“Just someone I’ve been seeing.”

Meaghan looked skeptical. “But not your girlfriend.”

I shrugged. “Not officially.”

“Ah. You haven’t had the exclusivity talk.”

“No.”

“Why not? Is she seeing other people?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I know you’re not.”

I scowled at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think I’ve realized you don’t date?”

“I didn’t realize my love life fascinated you. Something you want to tell me?”

Meaghan scoffed. “Please. Even if I were into girls, you wouldn’t be my type.”

“I am everybody’s type.”

“Stop quoting that stupid TV show.”

“Hey, if you’re going to open the door…”

“And stop trying to change the subject. Unless you want to tell me who made you swear off love. I’d be willing to let you distract me with that.”

Every nerve ending in my entire body started humming in warning. I loved Meaghan like a sister, but no way were we going to talk about that. Now or ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Fine. Then let’s stay focused on how this girl has managed to do what many others have tried and failed to achieve.”

“There haven’t been that many others,” I muttered.

“There’ve been a few. Yet none of them have made it past what? Two dates? Three? I was starting to think you had commitment issues.”

“I don’t have commitment issues. I’m not opposed to the idea of dating someone exclusively. It just has to be the right girl. I refuse to settle just so I’m not alone.”

“Well, this girl must be pretty special. I mean, she’s made it a lot longer than any of the others.”

“Good God. You make it sound like I’ve been participating in my own version of a reality dating show. There’ve been like three.”

“Three who’ve never made it past a couple dates,” Meaghan pointed out smugly as she moved the radio mike a little, shifted so she was facing me more, and crossed her legs. “And how long have you been seeing this one?”

I tugged on the cartilage of my ear as I did the math. “About six months.”

“Wow. Isn’t it past time for you guys to have moved in together and adopted a cat?”

I made a face and shook my head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. “If you try to tell me stereotypes exist for a reason, I’ll be forced to punch you.”

“Fair point. But still, that has to be some kind of record for you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

She ignored my name calling. “So what is it about her?”

“She’s persistent as hell,” I quipped dryly, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.

Meaghan’s expression was disbelieving. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That can’t be it.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How about something real, for starters?”

“That is real. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Wore me down. And here we are.”

“Maybe that’s how it started. But that doesn’t explain why she stuck around.”

“She’s a glutton for punishment.”

Meaghan smiled. “Cute. But we both know I meant why you let her.”

I tapped my fingernails against the steering wheel as I considered the best way to explain it. “It’s easy.”

“Did you just call your girlfriend a whore?”

I rolled my eyes and made a face. “Not my girlfriend. And I said
it’s
easy, not she’s easy. Jesus.”

“Ah.” A pause. “So what exactly does that mean?”

“It means we have fun together. She’s funny and smart, and it’s not any more complicated than that.”

“Complicated by messy feelings, you mean.”

“There are feelings. I’m not a sociopath. I really like her.”

“If she’s so amazing and she’s managed to tie you down for this long, why the hell isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it.”

“Well, do you want to talk about it?”

“Meaghan, I don’t like having women I’m actually seeing push me into talking about my feelings. What are the chances I’ll tolerate it from you?”

Meaghan was unfazed and unrelenting. “So if she said she wanted to make it official?”

“I don’t know. I think she likes things the way they are, too.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“She’s never said anything to lead me to think otherwise.” Sure, I’d occasionally wondered whether she wanted something more official or permanent, but she was a big girl. I trusted her to use her words. I’d also suspected she had her own reasons for wanting something easy and casual, and the last thing I wanted was to be backed into a position where I’d be forced to reveal my own rationale for craving simple.

“Because women are so direct when it comes to feelings.”

“I am.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the exception to just about every rule.”

I grinned. “Thanks.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Oh, sure it was.”

“Seriously, though. You know the talk’s coming sooner or later.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“And when it does?”

I pursed my lips and bounced my left knee. “Then I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, this is clearly going nowhere. New topic. How tired is your not-girlfriend of you always having to cancel plans because of the job?”

“Not nearly as tired as she is of me actually forgetting to cancel plans because of the job.”

“How many times has that happened?”

“A couple.”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t do it on purpose!”

She held up both hands. “Hey, I get it. I’ve been there. We all get caught up. She’s a cop, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Intel.”

“I’m surprised she’s giving you a hard time. You’d think another LEO would understand.” She gave me a pointed look I chose to ignore.

“Yeah, well, I should remember to call.”

“You should date another agent.”

The skin on my face was suddenly warm and a little too tight. “What?”

“It’s easier. I can’t tell you how much less stressful dating has been since I started seeing Carter.”

Oh, thank God! She was just talking about generally dating someone else we worked with, not referring to the last agent I’d been involved with and telling me I needed to go that route again. What a relief. I’d taken great pains to hide that relationship for various reasons. And I didn’t want to think about that right now. Or ever, if I could help it. Which I usually couldn’t.

“I don’t have to explain anything to him,” Meaghan said. “He gets all the subtle nuances of our job, so we never have these problems.”

“Great.” When had the air become so stuffy and hard to inhale? I cracked my window.

“I just…I just want you to be happy.”

“Mmm.” I stared out the windshield as I circled the block, looking for a place to park, Meaghan’s words ringing in my ears.

I didn’t need a relationship to be happy, but since she’d brought it up, that particular brand of bliss had eluded me for some time: that ass-over-teakettle, rocket-ship-to-the-moon, heart-stopping, nerve-wracking kind of love that simultaneously hijacked and destroyed your entire existence. I’d tasted it once, several years ago, and it’d been achingly glorious.

Comparisons between holding my hand over a candle and jumping bodily into a five-alarm blaze didn’t begin to describe the difference. Lucia was great, and I enjoyed her company. But what I felt for her was nothing compared to the pull—to be near, to touch, to hold, to protect—the draw, the all-consuming fire of the love I’d once felt for someone else.

“That right there tells me all I need to know,” Meaghan said.

“What?”

“If you were happy, you would’ve argued with me.” She pinned me with a mysterious look and opened her door.

I swung my own open and hopped out, taking a second to adjust the gear around my waist. I shut the door and rested my hands on the roof of the car. I tried to think of a rebuttal, but all I could come up with was, “I’m not
un
happy.”

Meaghan’s smile was laced with sadness. Or maybe it was pity. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. “I don’t have to tell you there’s a big difference, though, do I?”

She turned and headed toward the building, leaving me to stare after her. “No,” I said softly, even though she couldn’t possibly hear me. “No, you don’t.”

I snagged the file folder I’d need out of the backseat and hurried to catch up to her, determined to stay on task and keep all thoughts of love and happiness out of my mind for at least the next couple of hours.

Bang, bang, bang!

My very best police knock broadcast throughout the dreary hallway that something was about to go down. I winced. But people in New York tend to mind their own business. I wasn’t knocking on their door, so they wouldn’t get involved. Still, I looked up and down the hall. No one and nothing moved.

My back to the wall, my weapon side canted away from the door, I glanced across the doorway at Meaghan, who appeared to be listening for some indication of life inside the apartment. She lifted her eyes, head cocked to one side.

“Anything?” I mouthed silently. I hadn’t heard a damn thing, but I’m not infallible. Maybe she’d picked up something.

Meaghan frowned and shook her head. The furrow in her brow deepened, and she broke eye contact. She leaned closer to the door, keeping to one side so she wouldn’t be caught in the so-called fatal funnel.