Facing It Read Online Free PDF

him. I’ll put in a call to the Albany office—”
    “No.” Beecham shook his head. “Tallahassee or Thomasville. Calvert’s wife is at the Albany office, remember?”
    “You think he’ll be uncooperative?”
    “You know he plays his cards close to his chest, Greg. I don’t think we’ll get a lot out of him on initial contact.”
    “Tell you what, then. No point in you two being there if she’s gone. We’ve got Chason covered in Virginia. Keep the cover intact, but make arrangements to fly into Albany, head down to that hole-in-the-wall county of Calvert’s so you can talk to him. He might be more willing to open up to you, Harrell, if the initial dialogue doesn’t go well.”
    “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Beecham muttered out of Weston’s range, then lifted his voice. “Will do. Keep us posted on Chason, Greg.”
    He reached over, lifted the receiver and let it drop to end the call. Again, he rested his face in his hands, blowing out a long breath.
    Jennifer frowned. “Why are you so worried?”
    “If she’s gone to Calvert, that could be a problem.” His words emerged tight and muffled.
    “Why?” Jennifer shrugged. “He used to be one of us. He knows how things work.”
    Beecham lifted his head, a wry expression twisting his face. “She’s family. You don’t know what that means to this guy. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, even if that’s counter to our objective.” He cleared his throat. “Which it probably will be. And Tick Calvert as an unknown? Not a good thing.”
    Jennifer slipped to her feet with a stretch. “So I guess I need to pack?”
    He nodded and reached for the phone. “Seems like we’re off on a spur-of-the-moment trip.”
    She opened the door and pitched her voice a tad higher. “I’ll pack a bag for you too, honey.” He grimaced at the endearment and she grinned. She used them whenever she could, just because it seemed to get under his skin. Ruffling her partner’s eternally calm exterior was one perk of this undercover gig. She winked at him. “Should I throw in my little black nightie?”
    Beecham rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, baby, you know I love when you wear that.”
    Teresa was dusting at the end of the hall. Jennifer rested an arm along the open door and struck a sex-kitten pose. “You love taking it off, you mean.”
    Beecham waved her toward the hall. “Let me book our flight. Go pack.”
    Blowing him a kiss, she sauntered to the stairs. An image lingered in her brain, of the nonexistent black scrap of lace, of Beecham’s hands sweeping it from her body. Ruffling his composure was a perk of the gig—having to live with him while her jones for him got stronger every day was not. She’d been drawn to Beecham’s quiet, steady persona from day one—he’d soothed her rookie-agent nerves and over the last two years, they’d settled into a strong working bond and even forged a relative friendship of sorts, although she knew far less about his personal life than her colleagues knew about their partners.
    Living with him for nearly a year? He’d gotten under her skin, big time. She’d found herself drawn into the role-playing with a vengeance, using every opportunity she received to touch the warmth of his skin, to tousle his wavy auburn hair, to kiss his hard lips.
    Upstairs, she pulled two carry-on bags from the huge walk-in closet. Her instincts whispered that the Chason case was about to break wide-open, with Ruthie’s disappearance serving as the catalyst. The agent side of her tingled with anticipation. The female part of her who’d gotten used to living with Harrell Beecham day in and day out cringed with dread. How was she supposed to go back to being simply his partner?
    And what if she couldn’t? She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. Either way, it looked like she just might lose Beecham for good.

    Tick leaned back in his desk chair, the ancient springs squawking, and watched as his fellow sheriff’s investigator