CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

You were supposed to call me earlier,” she says in a scolding tone.

“I know. I’ve been crazy busy with work.” Felix jumps up on the bed and curls up in my lap. I stroke his tiny head and ears absently as I focus on my sister.

“I guess that’s good news. You’re talking about your new job, right?”

“Yes. How are the kids?” I need time to figure out how to broach the subject with Jenny about Ozzie being here. I’ll distract her with talk about the children while I do that.

“Good.” She sighs. “Miles is coming to get them next weekend, or so he says.”

“That’ll be nice for you.”

“If he shows.”

“What will you do with two whole days to yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Take a bath with a bottle of wine. See a movie. Get my nails done. Sleep for twelve hours straight.”

“Call me if you want company for any of that. Except the bath. I’m done taking baths with you.”

“You could sit on the toilet and keep my wineglass full.”

“Yeah, I suppose I could do that.” I smile. I would totally be my sister’s bath-time wine filler-upper. It’s the least I can do for the girl who taught me how to ride a bike and tie my shoes.

“So, what’s up with you?” she asks. “How’s the new job going?”

“Pretty good. I’m getting some training.” I decide not to tell her about the surveillance stuff in detail. She’d worry too much. “Took some pictures. Did a little hand-to-hand combat.” Oops. Probably should have held that back too.

“What, what? Did you say combat?”

I laugh, thinking about Dev crumpling to the floor. I hope it doesn’t make me a sadist that I find that so amusing. “Yeah, there’s this guy Dev, the one I told you about before, the really tall one . . . he tried to sneak-attack me today, but I had a weapon ready, so he lost.”

There’s a long silence before Jenny responds.

“Babe, I’m worried.”

My mood falters. “Why?”

“Actually, I’m not sure whether to be more worried about the fact that your colleagues are attacking you or that you think it’s no big deal. They’re both very disturbing situations to any normal person. You used to be normal. What has that place done to you?”

A picture of Ozzie standing there with his arms crossed over his chest pops into my head. Ozzie happened to me, sister. It was Ozzie.

“I’m totally fine, really—I promise. Actually, though, I do need your advice about something.”

“Does it relate to this crazy workplace?”

Now I’m nervous. Maybe this was a mistake calling her. She’s already being kind of judge-y. “Yyyeeeesss.”

“I’m listening.”

It’s too late to do anything but confess. I try to keep my tone light so she won’t panic overly much. “Ozzie’s staying at my place temporarily.” Yay, good plan; yay, me! Jump right into the deep end without any warm-up!

“Oh my god! Are you serious?!” At least she doesn’t sound too angry.

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“Do you like him? Does he like you? Have you guys had sex yet?”

“Ack, no! Stop! Just listen.”

“Okay, I’m listening. Just remember, though, that I have no life, so anything you have going on is going to seem way more exciting to me than it probably is.”

I laugh. “Okay, good. Thanks for the warning not to take your enthusiasm to heart.”

“That’s not what I meant, but go ahead. I can’t wait to hear the details.”

“Remember that night I was texting him, and I thought I was texting you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that guy who was shooting a gun that night in the bar—I can identify him. And Ozzie’s worried that the guy might be able to figure out who I am, so he’s moved in here just until they can assess the threat.”

“Threat.”

“Don’t say it like that, Jen. Seriously, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m preeeeetty sure it’s a really big deal, actually.”

“No, it’s not. I promise. I have a great security system, I have Ozzie and his giant dog here, I have Felix . . .”

“Who’d be really good at maybe puncturing the skin around a murderer’s ankles, assuming he isn’t kicked into a wall first.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“This isn’t meanness, May; it’s called sisterly concern. And like I said before, I think this new job has twisted your sense of reality. When a gunman comes after you to find you, he kills you. He uses bullets. He doesn’t walk up to the door, ring the bell, and have a conversation with you first. He can get you through a window or a wall, even. It’s true. I’ve seen it on real-crime TV.”

Her voice reminds me of my conscience. They have the same tone and everything.

“Well, this is my life, Jenny. I saw what I saw when I was out rescuing you and the kids, and I can’t undo that.”

“That’s totally unfair, blaming this on me!”

“I’m not, I’m not.” I take a breath to calm myself down. “Or I don’t mean to. I’m just saying, it’s fate. That wrong-number text coming to my phone when you were buying a new phone, me going to Frankie’s where Ozzie was working undercover, me being a photographer when they need a photographer—it’s all fate. It’s meant to be.”

“And you think Ozzie being in your house right now on a sleepover is fate too?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”

“You want me to tell you if Ozzie being there is fate?”

“Kind of.”

“You’re thinking about sleeping with him, aren’t you?” Her tone loses some of its angry edge. “You little slut.”

“Stop. This isn’t funny.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not. He’s your boss. He’s there to make sure no one hurts you.”

“So, you’re saying I shouldn’t sleep with him, then.”

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying what I’m saying.”

“You’re saying what you’re saying. That makes no sense at all.”

“I’m saying that it’s complicated.”

My hand flies up and waves around the room. “Hence my phone call to you!”

Felix looks up at me, concerned. I pat him on the back, and he goes back to napping, resting his head on my thigh.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s analyze.”

“Yes.” I’m filled with relief. “Let’s.”

“He’s your boss.”

My eyes roll to the ceiling. “We already covered that.”

“He’s hot.”

“Very.” I smile. He is so, so, so, so cute. If I were sixteen again, I’d write his name all over my notebooks.

“He’s willing, I assume?”

“He’s already kissed me twice. Or did once and almost did a second time.”

“Who stopped the second attempt?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“It gives you the upper hand in his mind. Okay, so what else?”

“I don’t know.” I’m depressed now. This is so messed up. “I can’t think straight where he’s concerned. Yes, he’s my boss, and yes, he’s here for professional reasons, and no, I don’t want to get my heart broken. That’s all I can think of.”

“What about the sex? Have you thought about that?”

“Not really.” My face flushes at the very idea. “I mean, I’m completely attracted to him, but every time I get near him, I get so flustered I say stupid things, and then I have to get away so I can think straight.”

“Wow. Geez. You’ve got it bad.”

“I know!” I whine, collapsing back onto my bed. I stare at the ceiling while Felix climbs up to lie down on my chest. “He’s smart and tough and hot and sexy, and he cooks like a professional chef, and . . .”

“And he’s your boss.”

I fall down to earth, crashing from my high to a very low low. “Yes. And he’s my boss.”

“So what’s the worst thing that could happen? If you slept with him, I mean.”

I think about it for a few seconds. “I guess we could end up not working out and then it would be awkward, and I’d have to quit my new job.”