He went back inside. Jake stood on the deck a second longer, looking at the water where the moon was climbing.
He had no idea what he was going to do about Emily Callahan.
He was looking forward to finding out.
CHAPTER 5
Emily arrived at the federal building at seven-thirty, coffee in hand, ready to work.
She'd barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back on that deck, margarita in hand, watching Jake Walsh watch her like she was the answer to a question he'd been asking his whole life. The bathroom. Claire's face.That man has opened a door you've had welded shut since I've known you.
She'd told herself, driving home, that it didn't mean anything. A good night. Good company. The kind of evening she should have more often but didn't, because she was busy, because the work mattered, because she'd built a life that didn't have room for complications.
Jake Walsh was a complication.
She'd told herself that too, lying in bed, staring at her ceiling. He was a contract investigator on her case. They would be working together for weeks, maybe months. Getting involved would be unprofessional. Getting involved would be exactly the kind of decision she'd spent her entire adult life learning not to make.
And yet.
Goodnight, Em.
No one called her Em. No one had ever called her Em. The nickname had slipped out of him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and she hadn't corrected him, and now it was seven-thirty in the morning, and she was standing in her office thinking about the way his voice had sounded saying it.
She needed to focus. Costa was still missing. Vance's lawyers had filed another motion. The case wasn't going to build itself.
Her phone buzzed.
Lobby. Five minutes.
Jake's number. The one she'd saved last night, after he'd walked her to Claire's car, after she'd watched him shrink through the passenger window while Claire drove them home.
She texted back:We have a meeting scheduled for nine.
His response came immediately:Change of plans. Bring your bag.
Emily stared at the screen. She should say no. She had depositions to review, motions to answer, a witness board that needed updating. She had a job, responsibilities, a career she'd spent a decade building.
She grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator.
He was leaning against a black Range Rover when she walked out of the building, arms crossed, watching her approach with that expression she was beginning to recognize. The one that said he knew more than he was sharing.
He'd changed since yesterday. Same backwards cap, same Oakleys propped on the brim, but the t-shirt was different. Darker. It fit him in ways that made professionalism feel like a suggestion rather than a rule.
She made herself stop at a professional distance. "What happened to nine o'clock?"
"Nine o'clock was for briefings and conference rooms." Jake pushed off the car and opened the passenger door. "We're past that."
"Past it. We've known each other for one day."
"Long day." He waited, door open, patient as stone. "You coming or not?"
Emily looked at the Range Rover. At Jake. At the federal building behind her, where her desk waited with its files and its coffee and its predictable demands.
She got in the car.
Jake came around to the driver's side, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed east without a word about where they were going. Emily watched the city slide past, familiar streets becoming less so as he turned off the main roads.
"Range Rover," she said, because the silence was doing things to her nervous system she wasn't prepared to catalog. "Not what I expected."
