Becoming Rain
Page 40

I suck back my wine, considering the expanding landscape of this criminal enterprise. “I don’t get it. I mean, you have that much money and yet you go and do something stupid and illegal to get more?” My words are rhetorical, of course. Everyone has their motivations—even criminals. Usually it’s pure, blind greed.
A phone starts ringing. I eye Warner’s pocket, where I know his personal iPhone is tucked away. “Are you going to answer that? She’s called three times.”
“Yeah, to yell at me for missing the wedding. I don’t need that right now,” he mutters through another mouthful of beer. It’s going down fast tonight.
I chew the inside of my cheek, deciding if I should say what I want to. “You should call her. Smooth things over.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I need to know that there’s hope for a normal relationship in this job.”
He laughs, sliding from the arm to fill the couch seat next to me. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s no such thing as normal for us. What we see, what we have to do, the way we learn to think . . . no one but us will understand that. You’re doomed the second you start having feelings for someone.”
“Jeez, Warner! Then why are you even bothering with this poor woman?”
He shrugs, twisting and turning the tag on his beer can for a long moment before dark eyes lift to meet mine. “I guess I’m just biding my time until I find the perfect non-normal partner for me.”
He’s waiting for another agent, or cop, or . . . the way he’s looking at my mouth right now, I’m afraid to think that he’s waiting for me. When did that happen?
Thank God his work phone pings, ending the awkwardness.
“Okay . . . 12 should be entering his condo any minute,” he confirms, reading his screen.
All thoughts of anyone else disappear as I find my way over to my window. “Did he meet with 24?” I ask, peeking past the edge of the blinds.
In time to get a clear shot of that dark-haired bartender stepping into Luke’s bedroom before the blinds shut.
It feels like a punch to my stomach.
“Bill said he’s not alone.”
“Yeah, I see that.” I hear the strain in my own voice. And Luke closed his blinds this time. He’s never bothered to before. He’s hiding her from me. He took me out tonight, kissed my hand goodbye in such a sweet, genuine gesture, and then went to the bar to pick his bartender up.
I’m so stupid.
“Clara?”
I turn back to see Warner watching, a stern expression on his face. “You okay?”
“Of course.” I glance back, taking in the glow of the light within his room.
A mental picture of what’s going on behind it hitting me like a wave of sickness. This is what he does. I knew this. It shouldn’t bother me, and yet it does.
“Clara.” Warner’s voice is right behind mine now, the warning in it.
“What?” I step away from the window, around him, and head back to the couch, downing half my glass of wine. Suddenly, I want my guest gone. I want to be alone.
But I get the sense he’s not going anywhere. “You’re not falling for 12, are you?”
“Jesus, Warner! What do you think I am, an idiot?” I burst out laughing, releasing some of the tension in my body. “I’m not going to fall for my target. What’s wrong with you? He’s a fucking criminal! You think I’m going to just throw my entire life away for some guy?”
“Is that why you’re yelling at me now?”
“I’m not . . .” I temper my tone. I am yelling. “I’m not yelling at you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened,” he offers, all traces of his usual smile gone.
“What do you mean? What does that mean?”
He sighs, shaking his head to himself, like he’d rather not tell me. “I was handling a human trafficking case two years ago, with a female undercover agent,” he begins. “She was good. Smart. Our target was this young Turkish guy. We were making great headway in the case. Until she fell in love with him.”
“Oh, please, Warner. I—”
He holds his hands up. “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen it happen. Woman sees the good side in the guy, wants to change him, thinks she can . . .”
“So you think I’m an idiot.”
“Special Agent Mason wasn’t an idiot.”
“She fell in love with a guy who traffics humans, Warner.”
“She wasn’t an idiot,” he reiterates, his words slow, his voice loud and hoarse, full of emotion. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of you. Young, like you. Still not completely jaded by the job.” His eyes drift down to my mouth.
The silence in my condo is deafening. Even Stanley’s normally heavy breathing seems to have stalled. I check my tone, sensing an explosion if I don’t tread lightly. “She got fired?”
“I wish.” His faint head shake answers me. “Found her in her cover house with a bullet in her head.”
A shiver slips through my body. I’ve heard of undercovers having death threats shouted at them at trials and I myself have had the shit kicked out of me once while trying to buy heroin, but actually getting killed on the job is rare. “Jesus.”
“Yeah.” Warner bows his head for a moment in silence, and I can see that it’s still heavily under his skin. “Not sure how he found out, but knowing how hard she was falling, I’d bet she told him. So . . . don’t do anything stupid, like fall for your target. I don’t want to bury another agent.” He studies me with big hazel eyes, giving me a brief glimpse of the sadness behind them.