“Judy Mendez at the FBI. It’ll be a hell of a lot faster to have her do a passport search than to file a Freedom of Information Act form. We need to know if she ever went to Israel and if so, if she’s back in the States now. If she is, maybe we can schedule an interview with her.”
I nodded. Mendez worked on Candy Sorensen’s team as an IT specialist. She was a hell of a hacker, which was why the FBI had hired her to begin with. “While you do that, I’m gonna grab us fresh coffee. When I get back, I’ll call Kershaw and see if we can see him today. I think we need to compare notes on our cases now that we know the two are related. Hopefully, the coroner’s report’s back on Feldman too. I’d love to know if the medical examiner thinks the murder happened before or after the burglary.” He nodded and held up his mug. I took it and headed to our breakroom.
PATSY
I stood in the kitchen watching coffee drip into the pot at seven the next morning. Wes hadn’t come out of the bedroom, but when I’d snuck into the room to use the bathroom, he’d been fast asleep on his side, turned away from me. His broad, muscled back, made me want to drop my clothes to the floor and spoon up behind him. I’d had to physically restrain myself from crawling into bed for a morning cuddle. I hadn’t felt this way about any man since falling hard for Tommy—who was straight—all those years ago. After his death, I’d mourned him, filled with rage which in hindsight, had probably contributed to knocking back enough booze to pass out cold every night.
I heard the bedroom door open and he came down the hall, smiling when I caught sight of him. The sparse hair on his head was damp and I caught the scent of my bodywash as he walked into the kitchen wearing a big grin. The thick mat of hair under the thin fabric of his T-shirt made a fuzzy lump, and the few strands poking up above the V-neck made my mouth water. I’d always been attracted to big, burly bears, and Wes fitted my type to a tee. “Good mornin’,” I said. “Would ya like a hot drink?”
“I’d love some coffee.” Wes walked straight over and smiled down at me as he slipped his arms around my waist. “First though. I’d like some of this.” He lowered his mouth and gave me a slow, soft kiss until my knees went weak. By the time he finally broke the kiss, I was panting.
“Christ,” I said, smirking at him. “For someone who agreed we should go slow, revvin’ me up first thing in the mornin’ is just not fair.” I reached down and adjusted my erection as he let out a low chuckle. I frowned at him. “Bastard.”
Although I didn’t quite pull that off as I grinned and turned away to pick up the coffeepot. I flicked the kettle on for tea and filled the teapot with hot water to warm it. I poured him a coffee and handed it to him. “Are ya hungry?” I asked as he poured half and half into his coffee. “I can make breakfast before I head out.”
He smiled behind the rim of the coffee mug, those arresting eyes looking a wee bit naughty. “You don’t have to cook for me, Patsy. I’m really good at pancakes and I can make them fast. Let me do it. I know you have to get to work.”
I nodded. “Yeah, honestly, I’d rather not go in today at all, but I have to meet with the psychologist before I’m cleared to go back out in the field.”
He turned around, holding the box of pancake mix he’d pulled out of the cupboard, and looked at me with a slight frown. I realized I’d made a mistake. Last night, I’d not even mentioned anything about my confrontation with the two suspects. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Not to be nosy, but why do you have to be cleared by a psychologist? Did something happen?” Wes asked, setting the box down on the bench and crossing his big arms over his chest.
I sighed. “Holy Mother of God. Ya could say that.”
He paused for several beats before he uncrossed his arms and threw up his hands. I didn’t miss how he winced, obviously having forgotten all about his sore arm. “Well, are you going to tell me, Patsy?”
“I shot two bank robbery suspects during a Tac Team operation yesterday,” I said reluctantly.
His eyes went wide as he gasped, the palm of his hand automatically flying up to cover his mouth.
“I didn’t want to be tellin’ ya because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it, when in reality, that kind of thing happens sometimes.” I emptied the teapot, threw in some tea leaves and poured boiling water over them.
He dropped his hand, nodding slowly as his shoulders relaxed a wee bit. “Okay…would you like to tell me about it. No pressure,” he rushed to say.
“I just don’t want ya to freak out about it.”
He smiled sadly. “I promise I won’t freak out. You said it happened during a Tac Team operation.”
I nodded. “We’re one of four such teams at the FBI offices in West L.A.”
Wes was quiet as he broke eye contact, reaching for a bowl and a measuring cup in the cupboard. I noticed how at home he was in my kitchen and a warm feeling filled me.
“Though I don’t know exactly what a Tac Team is, I get the general idea,” he said, turning his back to me as he opened the box of pancake mix. “Will you tell me what a Tac Team does exactly?” He glanced away from where he was measuring ingredients.
“Ya know what a S.W.A.T. team is?” I asked.
He smirked and went back to whisking water into the bowl of pancake mix. “Doesn’t everyone?”
I moved over so that I was standing beside him. I wanted to watch his face as I explained. “An FBI tactical team is basically the same thing as a police S.W.A.T. team. We plan operations and execute them in real time, often durin’ crisis situations. We provide back-up for field agents and in most cases, we’re first through the door.”
Wes let go of the whisk and turned to fully face me. “That sounds extremely dangerous, Patsy.”
I shrugged. “We spend half our lives trainin’ for what we do. If we’re not called upon to carry out a specific operation, we’re workin’ out in the gym or runnin’ through a shootin’ gallery. It’s set up by the FBI to help us train to shoot only when absolutely necessary but to hit the right target. We also practice rappellin’ exercises and do weapons trainin’. I already told ya I was Special Forces, Wes. My current job is just an extension of what I did overseas. I’m well trained and shoot only when necessary.”
I gave the teapot a wee twirl to help the brew along and stepped closer to him, taking hold of his hips as I looked up into his bright eyes. The different colors were so unique and beautiful but he still looked concerned. “I was doin’ my job yesterday. Those men were carryin’ semi-automatic weapons and had the intent to kill anyone gettin’ in their way. If I hadn’t taken down those two suspects first, they would’ve killed my partner, me, or us both. I only use deadly force when I have to, Wes. That’s the job.”
He slid his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest, where he ducked his head, resting it against my temple. “I hate the very idea of you being in harm’s way, but I understand,” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me, Patsy.”
