LINKED (The Bening Files Book 1) Page 5

  “Matching tattoos, huh?” McKenna resisted the urge to check her body for one. “They won’t give you a tattoo if you’re drunk. Thins the blood too much.”

  He cocked his lips to the side before grinning again. “Lucky for you. I really wanted that snake tattoo.”

  Jordan made the whole thing sound like a private joke they shared instead of impending disaster. When had he changed from the boy next door to…oh, she was not going there. She needed to ditch this emotional seesaw. Now. Stop confusing lost friendship with whatever this was.

  “You going to spit it out or keep staring?”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I was not staring.” Great, now she sounded like a twelve-year-old.

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  McKenna tried to remember that he’d taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness. He’d taken advantage of her. Not the other way around.

  She hoped.

  “You can’t work here, Jordan.” She tapped the end of a pencil on her desk. “It won’t work.”

  “Pessimism has never suited you, Slick.”

  “Do you have to keep calling me that?”

  “It never bothered you before.” Jordan stood, picked up the ball, and began shooting once again.

  “How are we supposed to work on the same case? We can’t even be in the same office.” She stood and tried to center his attention on the topic at hand. His interest stayed glued to the basketball hoop.

  “What’s with this ‘we’ stuff? I’m fine.”

  Score one, Jordan. McKenna, zero.

  “I could tell Robinson we can’t work on this case together.”

  “Perfect.” She picked up the small basketball that bounced in her direction.

  “Then you don’t mind working on another case?”

  “Forget it.” With a scowl, she stepped in front of the hoop, but realized her blunder too late. Two steps toward her and he had her trapped in the corner.

  “Let me guess. You want to work on this case, don’t you?”

  The cultured voice didn’t fit with the dagger gaze directed toward her. At his nearness, her heart did a funny dance. She tried to keep her shallow breaths to a minimum.

  “I’ve got just as much a right to be here as you do.”

  “Mmm. Don’t forget why you’re in this line of work. To save the lives you can and bring justice to those you can’t.” Something fierce flashed in his eyes and his lips formed a thin line. “Remember this case is more than a file number. More than a possible promotion. It’s somebody’s life.”

  McKenna clenched the ball in her hands. She didn’t owe anybody an explanation, least of all Jordan. “I’m doing this for all the right reasons.”

  “Anything to do with Rupert Dillon?”

  Sucking in an even breath took every muscle in her chest. “What’s it matter?”

  “You two were on a first name basis last night.”

  “I’m on a first name basis with a lot of people.”

  “His situation sucks. More than sucks. And I’m sorry for that. But he’s on my suspects list until we get more details.”

  If he wanted some reaction from her, he wouldn’t get it. She agreed with his assessment. No way she’d admit that, though.

  “He the ex-boyfriend, McKenna? Mr. Domestication?”

  If she had a baseball bat in her hands instead of the basketball, she’d be tempted to swing it at him. “Fine. You want to do this. Let’s do it. Sure, he’s the ex. We parted ways months ago. He wanted to get married. I wasn’t ready. We didn’t see eye to eye on some key life issues. End of story.”

  He inhaled slowly as if he were holding a giant explosion of words back. “Judging from what I saw last night, the split wasn’t as neat as you try to make it sound. Seems like Mr. Dillon could be a conflict of interest for you.”

  He had no right to come back into her life and pretend to know anything about it. “Let’s not kid ourselves. This isn’t about the case. This isn’t about Mr. Dillon. There’s only one way to handle our, uh, problem. I’ll get divorce papers and you’ll sign them.”

  Listen, Moore.” He stressed the name in her face. “I don’t take commands from you or anyone else. I’m not signing any papers, until I’m good and ready.” He placed one hand on each side of her head, against the wall. He was so close, his breath fell across her cheek. His spicy cologne hung in the space around them. Did he have look and smell good?

  McKenna tried breathing through her mouth. Tried concentrating on something else. Zeroed in on his face. On his lips. Crap. Breathe.

  She noted his eyes were dark, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. Those dark circles couldn’t be from a couple of restless nights, could they? The red face and furious eyes before her made her forget how close he stood. For a moment, she contemplated reaching out, touching his shoulder and telling him to calm down. Then she realized how ridiculous that would be. These weren’t ‘the old days’ with the two of them on the same team.

  She tossed the ball from one hand to the other. Jordan tracked her movements.

  Then she smiled. “Talking obviously isn’t the answer.” For her sanity, they had to resolve this now. She cleared her throat. “We’ll settle this like old times. With a game of one on one.”

  Playing basketball was like second nature to her. She’d been playing since she was old enough to carry a ball. If memory served correctly, Jordan hated the game.

  “What are the stakes, Moore?” He pushed off the wall.

  McKenna exhaled. “If I win, you give me my life back and sign the papers before the week is out.”

  “And if I win, you move in with me. A trial period. We’ll set down the guidelines after I win.”

  She shook her head. “No, way.”

  “Problem?” Jordan sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms, looking as if they’d already sealed the deal.

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “And signing my name to some document isn’t?”

  “Absolutely, not. By signing divorce papers, you lose nothing. I lose everything if I move in with you.”

  “Ouch. Retract the claws, Slick. Were you this mean to Mr. Dillon?” The face before her was no longer angry, but calculating, watching and waiting for her to make the wrong move, or any move.

  “Speechless twice in one week. It’s not looking good. Do we have a deal? Or do we have to argue some more?”

  “Of all the things you could wager, why would you choose—?”

  “Leave my motives alone. Yes or no? We don’t have all day.”

  She didn’t see how she could lose. There was always that slight chance, but the odds were stacked in her favor. A part of her sensed that he was bluffing about his part of the deal anyway. The boy she remembered would never make her do something she didn’t want to do.

  “It’s your funeral.” They shook hands. “We’ll play half court. First one to twenty wins. I’ll see you in the gym at noon.” With that, she strode from the room.

  He wouldn’t really make her move in with him.

  Not that she planned to lose.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Seeing Jordan and McKenna together again, after so many years, was like watching a Joanie loves Chachi reunion.

  Minus the love part, but with just as much chemistry. Even if most of that chemistry involved a ruthless looking basketball game where, Amanda Nettles suspected, the winner took all. And the loser got…who knows what.

  Amanda turned the intensity knob on her stationary cycle and continued to follow the game one level below her. The outcome would be interesting, if she got the details from McKenna. Her childhood friend had been a closed book since the Rupert debacle.

  “Still trying to decipher the puzzle?” SAC Robinson nodded toward Jordan and McKenna. He dropped to a stationary bike next to her, a manila folder in hand.

  “Still trying to steal my case, Robbie?”

  If her pet nickname bothered Robinson, she couldn’t tell. They had been playing this game�
�the single best descriptive word she could find to categorize the back and forth banter they’d shared since she received her detective’s shield two years ago. He would show up all nonchalant, need a favor, but instead of cutting to the chase as most men in her profession did, he took the time. Plain and simple.

  In a world as face paced as NASCAR, with a profession such as theirs, she couldn’t help admiring that about him.

  Amanda glanced over at Robinson. He wore a Jones New York suit that complemented his lean physique. The product in his dark hair made it almost black. It probably wouldn’t move with a stiff wind. He should buy stock in the stuff. “You gonna workout in that?”

  “Nah. I hate gyms. Too crowded. Too many people watching your every move. Leaving their sweat on everything they touch.”

  “Germa-phobe, huh? I’ll have to file that for future black-mailing.”

  He ran a hand along the back of his neck. Those blue-green eyes watched her. “You can try.”

  Amanda turned back to the game as Jordan goaded McKenna in the same manner he’d used years ago. They looked good together, but she doubted her friend’s thoughts ever traveled in that direction. That girl wouldn’t notice if a truck had run her over with a load of eligible men, unless they all held loaded Uzi’s and had an elaborate terroristic plot.

  “What’s the score?” Robinson said.

  “I’m not sure. I think McKenna’s winning.”

  “Must have been interesting growing up with those two.” He threw his fist toward the basketball court, his thumb out.

  “The words, third wheel and never a dull moment come to mind, but in a positive way.”

  “I’ll bet. You ever meet either of Bening’s parents?”

  “We all kind of hung out at McKenna’s house, it being a central location of sorts. But, yeah, sure, I knew Ms. Bening. The three of us hung out at her house a few weeks before she was murdered.” Amanda remembered how upset McKenna had been when they convicted her uncle for the crime. After the trial, she came close to giving up her dream of working for the FBI. She had almost changed her major at Duke, but then Jordan disappeared and she became more determined than ever to make a difference in the world.

  “His dad?”

  “I don’t think Jordan cares to know the guy. Hard to say.” Amanda stopped pedaling and turned toward Robinson. “Why the questions, Robbie? Buttering me up for bad news?”

  “I’d send someone else with bad news.”

  Such a liar. “Care to explain the wild goose chase you sent me on this last weekend in Vegas?”

  “That info’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  Ouch. “Got it. Friendly banter over.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “Call it whatever you’d like.”

  “That lawyer boyfriend of yours propose yet?”

  “Did you ditch your sycophant girlfriend?” Amanda made it a point to avoid saying her name whenever possible. The woman left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “I see Mr. Lawyer is working with the DA’s office now.”

  “Miss-bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed got an exclusive interview and shared it with all of Charlotte on the morning news. What other insider info did she get on my case?”

  “FBI’s case.”

  Game over. Amanda stood and picked up her water bottle and squirted the cool liquid into her mouth, some of it missing its target. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I think after impersonating an officer of the LVPD and bribing a pilot for flight itinerary, I fit the ‘need-to-know’ category. And you owe me a hundred bucks.”

  Robinson stood. “Nobody forced you to do that.”

  “Then find someone else to be your errand girl. I don’t need the whole nitty-gritty, but the more I know, the better I work. I’m not risking my job or my neck for you and something I know nothing about.” She picked the towel off the stationary bike and slung it over her shoulder.

  Robinson tapped the manila folder on the palm of his left hand, his attention divided between her and the people around them. She’d seen the look before, on the job and off. He couldn’t decide if he could trust her.

  It shouldn’t have made any difference to her. Feelings, good or bad, didn’t belong anywhere near her professional life. Not if she wanted to focus on getting the job done right. She headed for a nearby paper towel dispenser, grabbed a few sheets and squirted sanitizer on them.

  “You think he did it?” Robinson said from behind her.

  Amanda returned the spray bottle to its resting spot, on top of the dispenser and returned to the bike. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” She began wiping down her machine. “He who?”

  Robinson followed as if he were a puppy on a leash. He had his arms across his chest, the manila folder poking out, at his side. “Moore’s uncle. What’s his name? Matthew Blaney. You think he killed Ms. Bening?”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “Yes or no. Your professional opinion.”

  She straightened. “The case has been closed for, what, ten years?”

  “I’d like to study it. A lot of things went wrong. Stupid mistakes made.”

  “So, what, you’re gonna use this case in a lecture?”

  “Something like that.”

  Amanda grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest quiet corner, away from prying eyes and ears. “You can’t seriously be thinking of reopening that case.”

  “I didn’t say I would or could.”

  “You would never find enough evidence to convince any judge it was worth federal or state time or money.”

  “Maybe Mr. Lawyer could help with that.” Yeah, sure, if Eric didn’t already have a workload fit for three people.

  “Mr. Blaney’s prints were all over the house. The gun was his, had his prints on it. Her blood was all over him, tracked through the house. Jordan witnessed some of it. He testified against the man.”

  “Bening didn’t see Mr. Blaney push her from the third story window.” His voice was quiet and calm. “And he didn’t testify against him, a lawyer picked apart the words of a young kid like a vulture.”

  All her detective intuitions were warning her something wasn’t right. “What’s really going on?”

  “Captain Dentzen’s been around a long time. Since back when Blaney was a detective on the force. It would be interesting to hear his version of the events and his take on Blaney.”

  Now she got it. “Let me guess, I’m supposed to slip your curiosity into casual conversation? With my boss.”

  “Baker Jackson.” A shrill, female voice carried in their direction. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Robinson’s shoulders hunched up like someone had run their nails across a chalkboard. Amanda bit back a laugh.

  Annoyance covered his face. “Meet me at that Mexican place near Byron-Hill Estates, tonight, at ten.”

  Miss blonde-with-perky-boobs and the best impression of Fran Dresher’s voice she’d heard in forever, headed straight toward ‘Baker Jackson.’

  “You know, I answer to someone just like you do,” Amanda said.

  Robinson turned to wave to his girlfriend, but glanced back at her before walking off. “Tell that boyfriend to hurry up and pop the question, Nettles.”

  ###

  Jordan wanted twenty minutes without talk about Las Vegas, without thought of it and the potential danger to which he had exposed them both.

  He’d let his guard down lower than he cared to admit. It wouldn’t happen again.

  He sat at half court passing the basketball from one hand to the other. McKenna stood inches from him, bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees, taking in huge gulps of air.

  He wiped a hand across his brow. “You gonna make it, Slick?”

  “Uh-huh.” She gulped. “Just thought you might need a moment.” He thought he heard her mumble something about jogging more, before she straightened.

  Jordan dribbled the ball forward and pulled it over his head. “I
ever tell you how pretty you are, McKenna?”

  “Yeah, right before you accused me of being a glory hunter. You can commence the groveling while you’re signing on the dotted line.” She jumped up and attempted to knock the ball from his hands. He dashed around her and scored a lay-up.

  “Lucky shot.” She retrieved the ball and dribbled toward half court.

  He grinned. “Nervous?”

  “We’re sixteen, sixteen. So, what?”

  “Better start packing those bags.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, her concentration on the hoop. “You should have warned me.”

  “About?’ He followed her down the court and tried to steal the ball twice.

  She blocked both attempts. “Today. Last night.”

  Jordan shook his head. “Wouldn’t have helped.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Sometimes the things he knew about McKenna scared him. Ten years apart disappeared within ten minutes of talk in Vegas. Even now, when she thought she had a right to be angry with him, he knew if she let her guard down enough, the gap would be gone in a heartbeat. “Just play, McKenna.”

  A glint entered her eyes for split second before she used her free arm to shove him away and threw the ball toward the hoop.

  Jordan caught his balance, jumped up, grabbed the ball, and put it through the hoop. “Who’s winning, now? Sixteen, eighteen. I’ll have to thank your brothers for teaching me to play.”

  She looked as if she wanted to strangle him. “When did they do that?”

  “When they got tired of seeing you kick my butt all the time.” He picked up the ball and threw it to her. “Maybe I should’ve had you sign a legal document. You aren’t going to renege on me, are you?”

  “The only thing I’m signing is divorce papers.” She bit her lower lip then glanced at the basket. “And, if you’d been around for the last couple of years, you’d know I always keep my word.” She charged down the court with the grace of a NFL wide receiver avoiding the tackle, dodging Jordan each time he got too close. She scored from the right of the basket.

  Two fingers in the form of a peace sign filled his vision and wiggled. “Two points and it’s over, Bening.”