His laughter caught her off guard. It came from deep in his chest, and she considered telling him he should do it more often. Fear he’d shut down again kept her from commenting. He’d gotten more comfortable around her. Comfortable enough his hand didn’t jump to the scar.
“Watch
Criminal Minds
on a regular basis?”
“You must be a fan. How else would you know where the idea came from?”
“My grandmother never misses an episode. I can’t convince her I don’t fly around the country on a sleek jet, saving damsels in distress. I’ve told her numerous times the FBI doesn’t work that way.”
“Don’t discourage her. Let her keep her dream.” Leigh imagined him saving damsels in distress. He clearly had a soft spot in his heart for his grandmother. Who was the real J.T. Noble? The gruff FBI agent or the man whose voice softened when he spoke about his grandmother? Leigh wanted to know more, but asking personal questions opened the door for him to do the same.
“We need a cup of coffee.” He drove in front of a Starbucks and growled at the long line at the window. “Sit tight.” He parked, and in a couple of ground-covering strides was out of sight.
The slight stirring of air when J.T. opened the car door reminded Leigh the weatherman had called for a breezy, humid day, which meant her hair had staged a full-on riot. She massaged the knots in the back of her neck.
Nightmares had plagued her last night, no doubt triggered by Jason’s phone call and comments. What was he up to? Why had he contacted her? Was Ethan in danger? His words left no doubt he intended to torment her. How far would he go? Questions. No answers.
J.T. shouldered the door open and crossed the parking lot to her side of the car, a coffee in each hand. A gust of wind picked up a lock of black hair and blew it away from his face. His shirt and slacks plastered against his body, and Leigh’s heart did a cartwheel and landed with a rapid thump. Her hand shook slightly when he passed her the coffee.
“Thanks.” She stumbled over the word. He leaned down to window level.
“Didn’t know how you took it, so I brought cream and sugar.” Eyes narrowed, he searched her face.
Had he noticed her reaction? He never uttered a word as he slid behind the wheel and maneuvered through traffic toward the Mussa-Shir home in North Decatur.
****
Friday, April 23, 7:00 p.m.
J.T. drove around to the backyard and parked. His grandmother’s white frame house with its black-and-white striped awnings might’ve been a cottage in the woods instead of on the outskirts of Newnan, Georgia. Her yard was an explosion of azaleas, magnolia trees, and gardenias. Nana was exactly where he’d expected, on her knees, hands in the dirt, planting more flowers. The smile on her face made the drive from Atlanta worthwhile.
“Hello, gorgeous.” He slid his arms around her slender frame and helped her stand while soaking in the goodness she radiated. She’d been the one constant in his life when he was a kid and the only reason he’d returned to Atlanta. Nana needed him.
“What a nice surprise.” She dusted the dirt off her hands before reaching up to cup his face. “Come down here, and let me look at you.”
“If you wore your glasses, you’d see lots of things.” He carefully lifted them from the lanyard around her neck and slid them on her pale face. He leaned over as she’d instructed.
“It’s still daylight, and I don’t need them to plant my flowers.” Head tilted back, she pursed her lips, and studied him then gently patted his right cheek.
His heart tugged. She treated the scar as part of him. Hell, at least she admitted he had one. “The fresh air must be helping. Your color is good.”
Her silver eyebrows dipped, and she chewed her bottom lip. “Was I supposed to fix your dinner tonight?”
“No, ma’am,” he lied. “I decided to come take my best girl out for the evening.” J.T. wouldn’t tell her she’d forgotten. “As a matter of fact, let’s dig through the fridge. I’ll bet we find something I can cook on the grill.”
“Good, I’ll wash up while you look.” She slipped her fragile hand through the crook of his arm and led him inside.
“When did Elva go home?” J.T. walked through the house with a critical eye. Satisfied everything was clean and in order, he joined his grandmother at the kitchen sink.
“You can stop checking up on her work.” She finished drying her hands with a paper towel. “She cleans to my distraction. I can’t set a dish down and turn my back without her washing the darn thing. I blink my eyes, poof, my tea glass is gone.”
“Maybe she thinks you’re drinking too much caffeine.”
She filled two glasses with ice, threw him an impish smile while she worked.
Over the next few hours, they ate supper, and he laughed at her complaints of how Elva bossed her around. At seventy-two, Nana thought she should be mothering her sixty-seven-year-old housekeeper.
“Have you heard from your mother?”
“No, ma’am.” And so ended a pleasant evening. “I’m guessing since you mentioned it, you did.” He fought to keep from snapping. “You didn’t give her money again?”
She let out a huge, audible sigh, the one she always used when he tried her patience. “No, Teddy. I haven’t heard from her.” Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. “But she’s my daughter. If she needed financial help, I wouldn’t refuse her.”
He fought back the urge to remind her not to call him Teddy. To do so was an exercise in futility of the grandest proportion. He considered himself lucky she hadn’t referred to him as James Theodore. She had no qualms about using his full name if he pushed his luck.
“Nana, she’s fine. We’d know if something had happened.”
His mother had taken advantage of Nana’s open heart and perpetual forgiveness many times. After she’d dumped J.T. on Nana, she’d pop in every few years to dry out her liver. Stay just long enough to remind him that he had a mother. Then she’d con his grandmother out of money and disappear, leaving Nana and J.T. to recover and rebuild.
Her grip tightened. “Promise me, you’ll try to find her.”
“Nana, she may not be in Atlanta.”
“This is her home, she’s in the city. I know it. And if anyone can locate her, you can.” She held his gaze until he nodded his agreement.
He hadn’t told Nana he’d been searching since the episode with her heart. Trolling beer joints in seedy neighborhoods, sitting across the bar from hundreds of bottles of liquor wasn’t J.T.’s ideal way to stay dry himself. Nana’s health took precedence over his failings as a man. Finding his mother would be a challenge, staying sober would test his conviction.
Traffic had thinned by the time he left his grandmother’s house and headed back to Atlanta. What did Leigh do on a Friday night? Did she get all dressed up and join friends at a bar? Why had his scar drawn no reaction, no questions from her?
Maybe he needed to stop thinking about her.
Chapter Four
Monday, April 26, 9:00 a.m.
Jason tightened his hold on his mother’s fingers. Her belief in him was critical. She gave him a reassuring glance and patted his knee with her free hand. The high-priced lawyer droned on, explaining the Georgia judicial system. The pompous ass spoke slowly, insisting their request would fail.
His mother flicked her hand through the air to indicate she’d heard enough. She didn’t like being told no, and apparently, Morgan Anderson was about to learn the hard way.
“Morgan, we didn’t come for a lecture or to solicit your opinion. If our request wasn’t difficult, we wouldn’t need you. Would we?”
Her tone and the expression on her face said everything. If Morgan Anderson paid attention, he’d understand Elizabeth Carrington’s mind was made up. Nobody denied Mama. Soon, Jason would remind Leigh McBride of that fact.
He suppressed a shudder and hoped the attorney was right. The possibility of the little snot-slinger getting close to him turned Jason’s stomach. He pushed back the nausea. This exercise was critical to establishing himself as reformed and rehabilitated.
Morgan’s gaze shifted from Jason’s mother to his father. “Not difficult, Carlton. Impossible. Your son is a registered sex offender.”
Morgan swiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His discomfort was obvious after learning they expected him to help prove Leigh McBride’s son was a Carrington. Jason bit back a smile. This shit was downright entertaining.
“You must understand the court will refuse to hear this request,” Morgan said. “Elizabeth, I know you don’t want to hear those words, and I’m sorry. I checked the records as you requested. The father’s name is not on the birth certificate. I’m afraid you’ve taken up an impossible cause.”
“Nothing’s impossible. Lies fabricated by a hysterical woman put my son in prison. Do not expect me to accept he fathered a child he will never hold in his arms. Who
I
will never hold.”
He resisted the urge to break contact when his mother’s diamond rings cut into his palm. Instead, he tightened his squeeze, silently encouraging her. The more the stupid cow believed in him the better.
Morgan pulled his hand over his face and heaved out a huge breath, pulling Jason’s attention back to the attorney.
“Your son is a convicted criminal out on parole. No judge in Atlanta will grant his request for a paternity test.”
“Please don’t talk around me like I’m not in the room.” Jason fought to keep his tone pleasant. “I’ll show the court I’ve turned my life around. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m positive he’s my son.”
“For your own sake, stay away from the boy and his mother. If you value your freedom, avoid all contact.”
Carlton Carrington stood. “If this boy is my grandson, I want irrefutable proof.”
Daddy Dearest had lost patience. What Mama wanted, Mama got, and Morgan was getting close to losing a lucrative account. Daddy was flexing his muscles.
“My son has no desire to come in contact with Leigh McBride,” his dad continued. “Arrangements can be made for supervised visits. He wants to live up to his responsibility. As grandparents, we intend to ask for visitation privileges.”
“With your wealth, the media will be all over the story. You’ve already gone through one scandal. I’m simply ensuring you understand how ugly this may get.”
Jason’s father sat with a grunt. Morgan had scored a direct hit. Jason’s underarms soaked through his shirt as support from his parents slipped through his grasp. The room fell silent as a prison cell late at night while his father mulled over the prospects of besmirching the family name. They’d survived one scandal; would his father stand with him again?
Jason spoke up. “In today’s environment, everybody sues everybody over anything. You can at least talk to Leigh McBride, can’t you? Threaten her with legal action. She’s a law enforcement officer with a son and career to worry about. Maybe she won’t want her name plastered all over the front page either.”
His father’s hand landed hard on Jason’s knee. “Excellent idea, my boy. I’m proud to say you’ve matured a lot over the last six years.”
Jason glanced up at his beaming father. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve changed. No idea.”
****
Monday, April 26, 11:45 a.m.
Leigh’s neck muscles tightened with each step as she entered the FBI offices. She’d missed half the workday updating her boss when an email should’ve sufficed. The need to be part of the solution quickened her steps. If the sniper stuck to his pattern, today was a killing day.
J.T.’s head came up as if he sensed her entry. A smile brightened his face. The expression disappeared so quickly, Leigh questioned the reality of it. The sudden and powerful urge to smooth out the trenches between his eyebrows confused her.
He’d crossed her mind a number of times over the weekend. After a long sleepless night, she’d admitted her physical attraction to him. A man who sent fire dancing through her veins had been missing in her life far too long. He held her at a distance, but then he didn’t appear to be close to anyone at work.
Leigh understood trusting people came hard. She’d removed the word from her vocabulary years ago. To stay involved in this case, she had to win him over.
“What have I missed?” Leigh shoved her purse into the bottom drawer. “I’ve jumped each time my phone rang.”
“I hear ya. All’s quiet.”
“Be right back, I need to check in with Casey.” She crossed the workspace to the SAC’s office.
He waved her in. “How’d the briefing with the chief go?”
“Did you speak to Chief Hampton before I did?”
His smile answered before he spoke. “We might’ve had a conversation, and your name might’ve come up.”
“Thanks.” She stuffed her sweaty palms into her pockets. “After today, I’ll check in by phone for the remainder of my assignment.”
He waved her off, apparently uncomfortable with demonstrations of gratitude.
“I rescheduled our morning update to right after lunch. Figured you want to sit in.”
The city had been on full alert after his interview with the press Friday afternoon. She nodded and left the SAC to his work.
Olivia was propped on Leigh’s desk. “You as edgy as everyone else?”
“Waiting is the hardest part.” Leigh could almost taste the tension in the air.
Olivia turned to J.T. and asked, “Are we eating?”
“I don’t think I can eat.” Leigh patted her stomach. “My appetite vanishes with a case of nerves.”