He stood, circled behind his chair, leaned on the back, and studied the floor. “They could have a team prepped and ready in,” he tipped his head to one side and then the other, “no less than two hours...maybe three.”
Spying her watch—9:39—Devlin rose from the chair. “I don’t think they’ll make a move before midnight.” She eyed him. “Let’s get some rest...an hour each. I’ll...”
He stood upright. “I call...”
“...take the first watch.”
“...first shift.” Randall plucked a quarter from his pocket. “I’ll flip you for it.”
She waved him off, “You win,” and ambled toward the back of the brick, ranch-style home, located in the countryside. Making it halfway down a hallway, Devlin spun on her heels and doubled back a few paces. “Hey.”
Holding an afghan, he fell onto a couch and propped his feet on a cushion. “What’s up?”
She crossed arms and ankles and put a shoulder to the wall. “I just...uh...wanted you to know,” she glanced down, her eyes darting left and right, “well...I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you throughout all this.”
He smiled at her while spreading the covering over his legs and feet. “You didn’t know anything about me. For all you knew, I could have actually been a wanted man, a criminal.”
Still looking downward, she nodded at a large knot in the pine flooring.
For the next twenty seconds, Randall watched her, waited for her.
She lifted her head. “Two years ago, I lost my husband.”
He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“He was a police officer...killed in the line of duty. My world shattered. But, with a four-year-old counting on me, I had to pick up the pieces as fast as I could. For me...that meant relying on myself. Jonathon was gone. And I had everything to do. So,” Devlin pushed away from the wall and stepped closer to Randall, “that’s what I did...everything...all by myself. I counted on no one, and I believed in no one, but me.”
Lowering his gaze, the prone man crossed his arms over his chest and ran a thumb over the point of his chin. “Must’ve been a tough load to carry.”
Her shoulders hunching a bit, Devlin remembered the barrenness that had taken residence in her soul, the long nights spent crying into Jonathon’s pillow. It was. “I managed. I got by.” She stood erect. “Anyway, I’m now married to a great man, whom I trust not only with my life, but with my daughter’s as well.”
Randall smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“However...I know there’s a big part of me—the old me, the distrusting me—still hanging around inside.” Devlin blinked a few times, took a deep breath, and ran fingers through her hair before holding her locks behind her head. “Look at me, blabbering on. You’re probably over there thinking I’m some weak, feeble-minded woman.”
“Are you kidding me? That,” he rubbed his jaw while half smiling, “right cross was anything, but weak.”
Ogling him, she snickered privately until a twinge of guilt for punching him overshadowed the humor.
“Anyway, the way you’ve been able to focus on the mission while separated from your family,” he squinted at her, “it takes a strong-minded person to push aside their feelings and do what needs to be done.” He pointed at her, “You’re strong, Devlin,” before tapping his temple and his chest, “right where you need to be.”
She regarded him. You’re strong...right where you need to be. Lips pressed together, she gave him a single down and up with her chin. “Thank you for that.”
“My pleasure.”
A few moments passed.
“Well,” she recalled her speech from a minute ago, “I guess what I wanted you to know from all that was,” she faltered, “just like Jonathon and Curt, I think you’re a good man too. One that I,” she locked eyes with him, “one that I’ve come to believe I can put my trust in.”
He lifted one corner of his mouth a fraction of an inch. “Thank you, Devlin.”
Half turning around, she stopped, poked a finger at him, and added her own faint grin, “Jessica,” before walking down the hall.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 26
Smells Like Roses
4 may—12:23 a.m.
potomac, maryland
With Cassandra in bed and Father Mahoney in the room next to hers, Ashford, Hardy, and Cruz had stayed up to enjoy a fire in the fireplace. As the flames slowly died, the temperature in the living room dipped.
Sitting on the couch, Hardy beside her, Cruz leaned into him, brought ankles to her butt, and threw a blanket over her and her man.
Reclining in the easy chair, on the couple’s two o’clock, a bowl on his lap, Ashford slipped a potato chip into his mouth. “I still,” he spoke in between crunches, “can’t believe it. I’m happy for you, Cruz...you too, Hardy.”
Admiring the ring on her finger, she smiled. “Thanks Ash.”
Hardy shot a look at the other male. “Thank you.”
She faced her former partner. “How are things between you and Jessica?”
“They’re,” he paused for a split second, “great.” Ashford rocked the chair forward and moved the chip container to a table. “I mean...we’re still newlyweds. We’re in that phase where even our poop smells like roses.”
Hardy and Cruz laughed.
Ashford never cracked a smile.
She stared at him for an extra moment, noting his demeanor. “So why am I getting the feeling that something’s not right?”
He peered at her. An instant later, he rocked the chair backward and jabbed a finger her way. “You’ve always been able to see through me.”
Hardy and Cruz exchanged glances before she eyed Ashford. “What’s going on?”
Both hands clutching the armrests, Ashford pitched the easy chair back and forth while examining the ceiling. “It’s not what you think. Jess and I are fine.”
Cruz lowered her feet to the floor and sat upright. “And yet...”
“I’m...I’m thinking of applying for SWAT...with the FBI.”
Hardy shifted his position on the sofa. “That’s great. You’d make an awesome SWAT officer.”
“Thanks, but that’s not the problem.”
“So what is?”
Ashford paused.
