“It’s not swaggering if it’s the truth. There’s more to that beating though, and I’ll tell you—”
Jake stopped talking when Denise came over with a tray holding their burgers and fries along with two more beers.
“I brought you a fresh bottle of ketchup, hun,” she purred as she set Camden’s plate down in front of him, followed by said bottle.
“Thank you kindly, beautiful.” He flashed his pearly whites and Jake could almost hear the gush of her panties soaking through.
She leaned close to Camden, and breathed, “You can call me Denise. As long as you call me.”
She took her time picking up their empty glasses and Camden kept his eyes on the petite brunette as she walked away. “Damn. Kinda wish I had your part of this case.”
“No you don’t. It’s not chasing terrorists.” Jake tried not to let the sting of that last too long.
“Organized crime didn’t go away when the terrorists showed up. Somebody’s gotta keep working the home-grown stuff. You’re the best at it and everyone knows it.”
“I kinda wish I wasn’t.”
Camden paused as he drowned his fries in fresh ketchup. “Don’t tell me Daddy Deal’s got you rattled. You’re no pussy, you’ve faced scum like him before.”
“It’s not him. It’s Daughter Deal. I think she’s our way in, but…”
“But what?” Camden shoved a fry in his mouth and wiped off the excess ketchup.
Jake took a huge bite of his burger, delaying his answer as he thought about Rachael and how to explain things to Camden.
“Well, let me tell you.”
* * *
The week had only served to soften Jake’s attitude toward Rachael. He watched the other guys harass her—not an attitude he expected anyone to take when it came to the boss’s daughter. He thought they would kowtow to her, or at least stay out of her way. Instead, they slammed doors in her face, talked back to her when she asked for something, and in general treated her like dog shit.
He’d caught Hank trying to slink into her office when she was there and Jake had called to him, playing the dumb ass-kisser too stupid to realize Hank was taking advantage of a chance to get Rachael alone and really lay into her. She’d seemed grateful for the interruption, but also looked away from Jake quickly.
Jake had tried a few times to get her into a conversation, but she rebuffed him, always with a smile though. And each tentative little smile out of Rachael threated to tear at his heart. He wanted to turn that tiny smile into a big one. He did what he could to act as a shield between her and the other guys, when he should have been joining in and harassing her just to keep his cover.
He was letting down his guard toward her, but not around her, and that was dangerous.
As the days went by, Rachael’s little smiles had gotten bigger every time he cracked a stupid joke, until two days ago in the breakroom when he’d made a crack about being a legend in his own mind and she didn’t just smile, she responded.
“Just what we need around here, Jake Legend,” she said, rolling her eyes as she poured herself a mug of coffee. She frowned at the empty box of sugar, which was the only thing that made the cheap swill drinkable.
Jake leaned into her words. “Oh, so you’ve heard of my less-talented, less handsome brother, John Legend? He sings sometimes.” He squatted down to retrieve a new box of sugar from the cabinet below. He sensed her checking out his ass and confirmed it when she blushed as he handed her the box.
She poured some sugar into her mug. “How do you get that ego of yours through the door? Or do you have to come in through the loading dock now?”
Jake just laughed. “Truth is, John Legend would scrape me off the bottom of his shoe if he heard me play. Then he’d step on me again if he heard me sing.”
Rachael stopped stirring her coffee and her expression turned serious. “You like music?”
“I do.”
“What kind?”
“If a song’s good, I like it. Doesn’t matter what kind.” Jake’s heart sped up. He tried to tell himself it was because he felt he was making a leap forward in gaining Rachael’s trust, and not because he was gaining it through music, something he loved down to his bones.
Rachael quirked an eyebrow up. “You said you played?”
“A little. Guitar. Some piano.”
