“Sure.”
“I meant the gunfire.”
The amusement in Connor’s voice had Ben lifting his head. The flat line on the boss’s mouth didn’t match the tone. Concern played there, too. In his eyes, in the way he leaned forward. This wasn’t about Jocelyn. It was about injuries, and Ben figured he could handle that talk.
“Can’t lie. That was a close one. I felt the bullet whiz by my head.” He knew it sounded nuts, but he could see the thing move through the air. That shot had come close to ending it all.
His bulletproof vest wouldn’t have stopped the bullet to the head he’d only barely sidestepped. “I thought that was it.”
“You’re taking a lot of knocks on this case. Still think you should head to the hospital to take care of that filleting of your stomach,” Joel said. “Lucky for you Jocelyn has the skills to keep you mobile.”
Connor nodded. “She’s a good woman.”
Ah, there it was. Didn’t take Connor long to circle from gunfire to Jocelyn.
Ben cursed the ease with which he got sucked in. “Agreed, but why do I think I’m about to get a lecture about women and safety and how those things don’t easily square with our work?”
Leaning back in his chair, Connor tapped his pen against his open palm. “She’s got a lot of secrets.”
“Don’t we all?” The list went on for pages—the real story about the whereabouts of Connor’s wife, everything about Joel’s past and Ben’s doubts about whether he had done the right thing in the NCIS case. And those were just the ones that came to him on the spot. Davis and Pax came from a family that defined dysfunctional. No one walked away clean on this one.
“You still have secrets?” Joel asked. “I’m thinking most of your life is on display right now.”
Leave it to Joel to drill down to the point. He wasn’t the type to tiptoe around anything, no matter how uncomfortable. The straight shooting tended to take the squirming out of most issues. This time Ben didn’t mind. “Unfortunately, true.”
“Just tread carefully with her.” The intensity of Connor’s voice suggested he wasn’t kidding.
Even Joel glanced over at him. “You think she’s a danger?”
“I think she’s in danger and I’m guessing this isn’t the first time.” Connor’s pen kept tapping. “But I think Ben knows that.”
He knew most of the information but not all. That didn’t stop him from wanting to go after the guy who terrified Jocelyn. Maybe he wouldn’t jump in a car and drive to whatever prison the guy was in, but he could poke around and make sure the guy wasn’t coming out anytime soon.
“There’s a piece of crap who wouldn’t take no for an answer from her and is now locked away.” Ben stopped there. Jocelyn could fill in the rest if she wanted to.
Joel’s jaw clenched. “Give me the name and I’ll check in and make sure he’s not instigating the attacks on her now. I’ll refrain from arranging for him to get shanked in the group shower. Probably.”
Connor nodded. “Focus on the check in part.”
“Appreciate that.” Ben knew they’d been outraged at the idea of some moron hurting Jocelyn or any other woman. Still, hearing the anger in their voices and seeing it in the way their shoulders tensed backed up what Ben already knew—regardless of how he’d ended up at Corcoran, he was in the right place.
The pen flipped fast enough for Connor to launch it across the room. “You’ve had a rough few months, so be careful.”
“Are you giving him the rebound speech?”
For some reason Joel’s words made Ben smile. “Good question.”
“I’m saying the timing of a relationship with her is not ideal.”
Joel snorted. “Connor means it stinks.”
Ben thought the same thing at least ten times a day. “You’re not wrong about that.”
“But I’m thinking you’re going to keep seeing her.” Connor didn’t ask it as a question.
“Yeah, Connor. That is definitely going to happen.”
* * *
SHE SHOULD HAVE gone back to her room.
She went to his.
Jocelyn stood in front of the dresser and ran her fingers over the folded stack of T-shirts and thought about how they fit over Ben’s warm skin. One, two...she pulled out the third and frowned at the way one sleeve stuck out of the side. Before she could stop, she refolded it. Tucked the edges in just so. Switched the order, top to bottom, from light to dark.
The constant movement of her hands soothed her. Fixing things just so eased the anxiety that pinged around inside her. She’d endangered people, set off a chain of events that left people dead, and she had no idea how. The not knowing had her fought-for confidence puddling on the floor.