The girl behind the reception desk wore a nametag that read Brandi. Jason could only imagine how many times she’d heard variations on “you’re a fine girl, what a good wife you would be” from the drunken fifty-plus fishing crowd.
Brandi glanced briefly away from her smartphone to tell them to seat themselves. Kennedy headed for a large round table by the window.
Jason smiled maliciously at the strategic placement of a safety zone of white linen and silver hurricane lanterns between them.
Brandi, the receptionist, who it seemed was also their waitress, delivered menus and took their drink orders. Kennedy ordered a ginger ale. Jason ordered a Kamikaze.
The drinks arrived right away. Kennedy ignored his, still frowning over the menu. He had donned his gold-rimmed reading glasses, which made him look academic and older. Jason set his menu aside and downed his drink before the waitress had time to depart.
Brandi’s eyes widened as he indicated his glass.
“Again. Please.”
She grinned. “Oh-KAY!”
Kennedy glanced over, and his brows rose. He made no comment, returning to his menu. Hiding behind it, Jason thought sourly.
“What’s the situation in Oregon?” he asked, more because he wanted to force Kennedy to interact with him than from any desire to know.
Kennedy proceeded to tell him about a cold case bursting into flames: the hunt for a missing teenaged girl, crazed survivalists, a serial killer twisting ancient Indian rituals to his own macabre purposes, and an FBI agent abducted off his own doorstep.
Fifteen minutes later their meals arrived—Jason barely remembered ordering a seafood salad—and he was forced to say, “I had no idea. Given all that, I appreciate your flying out here to…”
And he did, but the memory of that bedside photo caused the words to stick in his throat. It didn’t change the fact that with all hell breaking loose—okay, technically, it was the aftermath of all hell breaking loose, but still—Kennedy had made the decision to charge to Jason’s rescue. That was more than kind, more than decent. It was the kind of thing you did for family—or people you felt very guilty about.
Kennedy didn’t seem to hear Jason’s gruff words. “I’ve got an opening in my unit. I’d like to bring Darling on board. I’m not sure he’ll accept, but I think he’s got the rig
ht instincts. In fact, I’d say he has a knack for our kind of work.”
“Hunting monsters.”
“They’re human enough. That’s what makes them frightening. Unfortunately, Darling’s formed an attachment to one of the deputy sheriffs up there in the back of beyond.”
Yes. How unfortunate to form an emotional attachment that might come before your fucking job.
“Oh, he’ll take it,” Jason said. “Even if he hadn’t been stuck on morgue patrol for the past six months. He’s ambitious, and it’s an opportunity to work with the great Sam Kennedy. Who wouldn’t jump at that?” That was hurt talking, though it came out sounding sarcastic.
Kennedy eyed him thoughtfully. “I seem to have…incurred your displeasure, West.”
Incurred your displeasure. He was being ironic. Also maybe looking for a fight?
Or maybe Jason was the one looking for a fight. If so, that was the second Kamikaze.
He settled for a curt. “Nope.”
He’d only had a quick look at the photo, but the image seemed to have imprinted itself in his memory. It was an old photo. Kennedy had been younger. Significantly younger. So it was a relationship of long standing, not a recent development. A recent development would have been painful, but…things happened. An ongoing committed relationship meant Kennedy had been involved when he and Jason first hooked up.
Either way you looked at it, he’d been cheating. Maybe not on Jason, but did that make it any better?
Except… Kennedy was no cheater. He was brutally honest and as direct as a blunt instrument. So what the hell?
If it was a current relationship, the photo would likely be contemporary.
That first night in Boston: So are you married or involved or what?
Kennedy was the one who’d asked.
In eight months, whether Kennedy was at home in Quantico or on the road, there had never been a hint of anyone else in his life. Okay, he’d referred to his mother in Wyoming a couple of times. But other than that, the closest thing he had to a relationship was Jason. Jason would have staked his life on it.