He noticed the small cross dangling from a gold chain around her neck. An ache started in his chest. It had been a while since he’d really thought about God. Not since the night Garrett died. Distrust and anger separated them. Jason didn’t know how to breach the barrier and frankly, wasn’t sure he wanted to try.
Forcing himself to stay in the moment, he asked Angie, “So tell me how you got into law enforcement.”
Toying with the rim of her glass of orange juice, she said, “Family business. Grandfather, father, brothers.”
Impressive. “All Boston P.D.?”
“Grandfather and father both retired from the force.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Eldest brother is Secret Service, and the other ATF.”
Ah, he’d thought the name Carlucci sounded familiar. Special Agent Joseph Carlucci had been part of the joint task force that had tracked Picard in New Mexico. Jason was sure Joseph was still working the southwest corridor. He’d liked the guy. And now felt doubly responsible to make sure Angie left the island in one piece. Preferably sooner rather than later.
“Here comes trouble,” Angie said, ducking her head slightly as she stared over his shoulder to the front of the restaurant.
Trepidation curled low in his belly. “What?”
“Don’t turn around, but one of the armed men from last night just walked in.”
Jason grimaced. So much for time off.
THREE
In a swift movement that startled Angie, Jason’s hand closed over her wrist, the pressure pinning her hand to the table. “Don’t even think about it.”
His hard, knowing expression bathed in a shaft of morning light streaming through the café’s window stilled her breath. How could he read her so well? She didn’t even try to play innocent. “I’m not going to just let the guy walk around free. We need to detain him and call Chief Decker.”
Jason’s sooty blue-gray eyes narrowed. “You really want to start something in here? The guy’s probably not alone.”
Snapping to attention, she scanned the restaurant, searching for a threat. The other patrons seemed innocuous enough. A family of four sat at a middle table, the children both still half-asleep.
An older couple sat by the window. The man read the paper while the wife stared out at the beach. At the counter, two men and a woman ate breakfast while joking with the waitress.
Angie didn’t see anyone who looked to be in cahoots with the gunman. “I can handle him and anyone else,” she replied.
“And risk other people’s lives?”
Jason’s question brought her gaze back to him and the censure in his expression. Indignation rose to settle in her chest. How could he even suggest she’d put innocent lives in jeopardy? She’d sworn an oath to protect and serve. She took her vow seriously.
Frowning, she settled back against the booth’s cushioned seat, while keeping an alert eye on the male subject in question as he walked toward a table on the other side of the room. Thankfully, he’d sat with his back to them. There was a chance the man could ID her and Jason. They’d have to be careful.
Mentally she cataloged the suspicious man’s description—five foot ten, two hundred pounds, dark hair, jeans, work boots and plain green T-shirt. Just below the hem of the right sleeve, the edges of a tattoo winked at her. The guy didn’t appear to be carrying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.
Feeling Jason’s stare pressing on her, she said, “Then what do you suggest?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere at the moment.” Turning back around, he said, “We watch him. See where he goes. Maybe he’ll lead us to the others.”
Was that a note of veiled excitement in his voice? “What are you, a thrill junkie?”
A brief, amused smile flashed before he said, “I believe in making the most of opportunities presented.”
Sounded like something her brothers would say. But they were in the business of seeking opportunities to take down bad guys. What was Jason’s motivation? She needed more background info on the amiable boat captain. A lot more. Looked like she’d be calling Gabe, her Boston P.D. partner, to do a background check.
She hoped Jason didn’t have a record or a warrant anywhere. She was beginning to really like the guy.
And maybe he was right. Maybe they should be patient and sit tight. But she never did watch and wait well. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues. Probably one of the many character flaws that had sent men running in the other direction. That and her career. Would Jason run from her? Did she care?
“Tell me about yourself,” she said.
“Not much to tell,” he responded and studied the menu.
She arched a brow. They’d already ordered their meal.
“Come on. Talk to me.” She reached across the table to put her hand over the menu to gain his attention. “Who is Jason Bodewell? Are you ex-military?”
Setting the menu to the side, he gave her his attention. “Yeah, I’ve served my country.”
“Which branch?”
“Army.”
From the guarded tone of his voice, she guessed his service had left scars. “Did you grow up here on the island?”
“No. Born and bred in a small town outside Jackson, Mississippi.”
Now she understood why his accent was so much thicker than any she’d heard so far while on vacation. “You’re a long way from home.”
His expression dimmed as sadness deepened the blue of his eyes. “Nothing there for me anymore. My parents passed on. I don’t have siblings.”
Her stomach clenched with remembered panic and dread of her father’s heart attack last year. Sympathy for Jason infused her. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to soothe away his pain. “I’m sorry. How old were you when they died?”
“My dad passed on when I was a kid. Emphysema. He was a chain smoker for as long as I can remember. My mom—” His voice hitched. “She died of breast cancer about eight years ago.”
Compassion twisted in her chest. She couldn’t imagine having both parents die so young. “You don’t have any other family?”
He paused, his expression turning distant. Hard. “Not anymore.”
Their food arrived, preventing further questioning but not alleviating the curiosity churning in her mind. What was Jason’s story? Was his military background his only reason for getting involved with her and this situation?
As she contemplated the questions, she ate her pancakes quickly. Sweet maple syrup exploded on her taste buds with each bite. She wanted to be ready to move the moment the gunman from last night decided to leave the café.
“Guess you were hungry,” Jason commented. His amused gaze flicked to her empty plate.
She shrugged. “Need to be ready.”
“Ah, I see,” he said.
Taking her cue, his seafood omelet disappeared rapidly. She appreciated how in tune he was with the situation. But really she shouldn’t expect him to put his job and life at risk to help her. Even though he was ex-army, he was now a civilian. Or was he? The question lingered in her mind, trying to take shape. But nothing beyond his mannerism suggested he was on active status. She shrugged the notion off.
“Let’s go. We can position ourselves outside,” he said as he laid down cash to pay the bill.