Read Online Explosive (The Black Opals) by Tori St. Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tori St. Claire
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eyes.
“Yeah. She’s got the lead in Nutcracker this year.”
“Good deal. I’ll have to check that one out.”
He wouldn’t—Jayce could tell by the tone of his voice. But then, his time in the Black Opals taught him how to read between the lines, how to hear unspoken truths. And though experience should have kept him from being disheartened, McTavish’s obvious disinterest in Jordan, the girl he’d never quite put out of his head in high school, disheartened Jayce. Growing up sucked. He sighed inwardly.
After a few moments of silence, McTavish asked, “So how’d you get into security?”
“Answered an ad.” Jayce couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d been working on a renovation at a CIA civilian office, when the suits, the salaries, and the proposition of not living hand-to-mouth became enchanting. He’d thought he had been applying for an IT position. But his test scores and psych exams placed him elsewhere. Before he’d fully realized what kind of contract he was signing, he found himself whisked away to DC and buried in the belly of the intelligence community.
He chugged another cold gulp. “And you? How’d you get into law school?”
This time, McTavish smirked. “Took a criminal justice class.”
That bit of news was enough to surprise Jayce. McTavish, who’d always had one foot on the wrong side of the law? “A cop?”
“Thought about it for a bit.”
It made sense then—a cop shop would have been too restrictive for McTavish. As an attorney, he could bend the law without ever breaking it. Perfect for the almost-criminal kid. Defending those who committed the crimes? Even better. Jayce grinned. “Still doesn’t tell me how you ended up working for Delfranco.”
McTavish tossed back the rest of his beer and stood. He gestured at the bottle Jayce held. “Want another?”
“I’m good.”
With a nod, McTavish wandered to the kitchen once more. Glass rattled as the fridge opened. “I started with the D.A. Delfranco was up on charges of forgery. He could have gotten off easily if his attorney hadn’t been in our pocket. I couldn’t deal with that.” He returned to the room, opened bottle in hand, and resumed his spot on the couch. “There’s justice that’s won fair and square. Skewed justice ain’t my ballgame. I told Delfranco. He offered me the job.”
“And you’ve been there ever since.” Jayce reclined, tossing his own boots onto the coffee table. His gaze cut to McTavish, suddenly sharp. “And Alyssa? What’s she got that the cops want?”
For an instant, Jayce would have sworn McTavish squirmed in his seat. The way he abruptly focused on the ceiling fan, his fingers plucking away at the loose label on his beer, set off Jayce’s survival instincts. He narrowed his gaze, convinced McTavish was hiding something. “Is she tied in with Delfranco?”
Sighing, McTavish shook his head. “She’d probably be better off if she were.”
Better off? Apprehension slid over Jayce. No one could be better off mixed up with a notorious mob boss. He arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Experience taught him people volunteered more without specific questioning.
“James Parker.”
The name hit Jayce like a lead fist. Parker had been a key person of interest in several investigations. Jayce hadn’t heard details, knew only bits and pieces of each case. The barest minimum, and only because he’d happened onto conversations. Still, enough to realize Alyssa wasn’t exactly disconnected from corrupt money and power. Parker’s arrest had made too many people on both sides of the law fidgety.
Concern for her brought Jayce upright and his boots to the floor. He eyed McTavish warily. “You don’t think that was just a random break in, do you?”
“Not sure. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Too many years of intimate experience with McTavish’s ability to talk around things hardened Jayce’s voice.
He shrugged. “Nothing
“Yeah. She’s got the lead in Nutcracker this year.”
“Good deal. I’ll have to check that one out.”
He wouldn’t—Jayce could tell by the tone of his voice. But then, his time in the Black Opals taught him how to read between the lines, how to hear unspoken truths. And though experience should have kept him from being disheartened, McTavish’s obvious disinterest in Jordan, the girl he’d never quite put out of his head in high school, disheartened Jayce. Growing up sucked. He sighed inwardly.
After a few moments of silence, McTavish asked, “So how’d you get into security?”
“Answered an ad.” Jayce couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d been working on a renovation at a CIA civilian office, when the suits, the salaries, and the proposition of not living hand-to-mouth became enchanting. He’d thought he had been applying for an IT position. But his test scores and psych exams placed him elsewhere. Before he’d fully realized what kind of contract he was signing, he found himself whisked away to DC and buried in the belly of the intelligence community.
He chugged another cold gulp. “And you? How’d you get into law school?”
This time, McTavish smirked. “Took a criminal justice class.”
That bit of news was enough to surprise Jayce. McTavish, who’d always had one foot on the wrong side of the law? “A cop?”
“Thought about it for a bit.”
It made sense then—a cop shop would have been too restrictive for McTavish. As an attorney, he could bend the law without ever breaking it. Perfect for the almost-criminal kid. Defending those who committed the crimes? Even better. Jayce grinned. “Still doesn’t tell me how you ended up working for Delfranco.”
McTavish tossed back the rest of his beer and stood. He gestured at the bottle Jayce held. “Want another?”
“I’m good.”
With a nod, McTavish wandered to the kitchen once more. Glass rattled as the fridge opened. “I started with the D.A. Delfranco was up on charges of forgery. He could have gotten off easily if his attorney hadn’t been in our pocket. I couldn’t deal with that.” He returned to the room, opened bottle in hand, and resumed his spot on the couch. “There’s justice that’s won fair and square. Skewed justice ain’t my ballgame. I told Delfranco. He offered me the job.”
“And you’ve been there ever since.” Jayce reclined, tossing his own boots onto the coffee table. His gaze cut to McTavish, suddenly sharp. “And Alyssa? What’s she got that the cops want?”
For an instant, Jayce would have sworn McTavish squirmed in his seat. The way he abruptly focused on the ceiling fan, his fingers plucking away at the loose label on his beer, set off Jayce’s survival instincts. He narrowed his gaze, convinced McTavish was hiding something. “Is she tied in with Delfranco?”
Sighing, McTavish shook his head. “She’d probably be better off if she were.”
Better off? Apprehension slid over Jayce. No one could be better off mixed up with a notorious mob boss. He arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Experience taught him people volunteered more without specific questioning.
“James Parker.”
The name hit Jayce like a lead fist. Parker had been a key person of interest in several investigations. Jayce hadn’t heard details, knew only bits and pieces of each case. The barest minimum, and only because he’d happened onto conversations. Still, enough to realize Alyssa wasn’t exactly disconnected from corrupt money and power. Parker’s arrest had made too many people on both sides of the law fidgety.
Concern for her brought Jayce upright and his boots to the floor. He eyed McTavish warily. “You don’t think that was just a random break in, do you?”
“Not sure. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Too many years of intimate experience with McTavish’s ability to talk around things hardened Jayce’s voice.
He shrugged. “Nothing
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