Bulletproof Page 7

  “Even if they suspect you’re a couple?” Briana countered. But even as the words came out, she knew the challenge was part of the game. Dylan dropped a look that was probably meant as playful disbelief, but behind those amazing eyes all Briana registered was smolder. “Point taken,” she said, finding her voice. Dylan’s confidence was persuasive, but she still didn’t love the idea. It was a massive gamble that was risky and dangerous with Dylan in the epicenter of it all. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not exactly like this, no.” Dylan’s voice was soft but full of competence as though she was trying to reassure her. “But I’ve done research, and I know of investigations where this type of setup has worked to infiltrate gangs, organized crime families, terrorist cells…”

  “Dylan’s right,” Trevor piped up. “Sometimes you have to take the risk, even if it’s unconventional.”

  “You can trust me to be smart and not do anything crazy.” Dylan’s voice was measured and smooth as she made her case. “I just think, I don’t know, it’s amazing the things people will brag about to get attention.”

  Briana knew that was true. More than once she’d witnessed defendants take the stand just to have a captive audience. Her mind was going a mile a minute as she envisioned the possibilities rife with danger.

  “Briana.” Dylan’s eyes were almost pleading. “If George and Benji talk to us, maybe we get an introduction to Paul.”

  Trevor hoisted his coffee cup in the air in a kind of anticipatory celebration. “Imagine if Dylan can identify Paul in the Wine Bar and she can put him at the bar the night of the overhear? When they were talking drugs and specifically about the student who overdosed, that’s like a legal home run, right?”

  It was such a long shot, but Briana had seen unlikely things work in the past. Still, she hated the thought of Dylan putting herself in any kind of vulnerable situation. She also despised the thought of Dylan partnering with Trish and posing as a couple, particularly after she’d seen them flirting at the happy hour a while back. The whole thing irritated her in a way that it most definitely should not.

  “A connection of that nature would be very strong for our case,” she admitted, channeling professionalism. “But again, we’re way ahead of ourselves.”

  “Absolutely, Briana,” Trevor said. “We’re going to take it one step at a time. Start with a heavy tail on our main three. With any luck they’ll lead us right to the Wine Bar. If that happens—”

  “When that happens,” Dylan interrupted.

  “When that happens.” Trevor was calm, clearly trying to appease everyone in the room. “Then we’ll make some real decisions.”

  “We just wanted you to be in the know,” Dylan explained.

  “I appreciate that.” Briana hoped her tone and expression showed her support of the tentative plan. But she also needed both detectives to understand that everything needed to be done by the book. For this tactic to be effective during prosecution, planning and precision were paramount. “I’m on board,” she said. “Let’s just all be careful. Obviously we want a conviction, but not at the expense of anyone’s safety. Okay?”

  “I promise.”

  The sincerity in Dylan’s expression was almost too much for Briana to handle. “I should get to work.” She smoothed her skirt as she stood. “Great job, you two,” she said, making sure Trevor got some attention.

  “You should come back for coffee tomorrow,” Dylan said with a smile.

  She was already planning on it but tossed a playful warning glance at Dylan’s overt banter just the same.

  “You never know—we might have a new lead by then.” Dylan defended her invitation with a grin.

  “You miss a day, you miss a lot.” Trevor offered his two cents.

  She rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain her smile as she backed to the elevator bank. “Good-bye, detectives.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I literally cannot stop touching her.”

  Briana looked over the mountain of case folders on her desk at Stef picking through her Cobb salad.

  “Am I supposed to be surprised by this?” Stef speared a piece of chicken.

  “You’re supposed to yell at me. Tell me to get my shit together and act like a goddamn officer of the court.”

  “Yeah…you invited the wrong person for lunch here if that’s the lecture you were hoping for.”

  “What am I doing?” Briana flopped her head on her desk with dramatic flair.

  “These little encounters happen when? Over coffee every day?”

  Briana sat upright and pulled the plastic lid off a bowl of mixed greens. “Not every day.” She stared at the ceiling tiles, pretending to calculate. She knew precisely how many times they’d interacted. Where, when, and what she’d been wearing. “A couple of days last week,” she said. “And yesterday.”

  “Like I said, every day basically.”

  “I can’t help it if the cops have good coffee.”

  “Don’t even.” Stef dropped a look on her. “I passed three gourmet coffee shops on my walk here. And you’re drinking Keurig. By choice. This is about Dylan. Admit it.”

  Briana answered with a weak shrug. Even though it was the truth, she wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

  “What does she do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what does Dylan do when you touch her?”

  Briana stopped to think about it. It was entirely possible Dylan didn’t even notice. She never reacted.

  “She doesn’t stop you,” Stef said, answering her own question. “My guess, she’s into it.” She pierced some lettuce on the end of her fork. “So why are you stressed?”

  “Because I set boundaries. I said we needed to stay professional.” She heard slight desperation in her tone. “And I’m sending the complete opposite signals.” She rubbed her temples.

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “As if I could stop you.”

  Stef placed her salad on the edge of Briana’s desk and folded her hands over her crossed legs. “Your body is telling you what it wants. It’s trying to give you a message.”

  Briana dipped her chin. She knew where this was going.

  “I’m not being snarky. Or salacious,” Stef said, reading her with ease. “I’m stating a fact. You need something. You want it from her.”

  “It’s a bad idea and you know it.”

  “I am not on that train.” Stef shook her head and reached for her lunch. “But have it your way. Find someone else, then. Because you’re driving yourself crazy.”

  “That’s the thing, though.” She pushed her salad around as she ruminated on her social life. “I’ve been out a lot lately. I even ran into Max last week. Do you remember him? Finance guy. Very nice, really good in bed.”

  “No. But go on.”

  “I could have easily gone home with him,” she admitted, hoping she didn’t sound vain. “I had no desire. I can’t get her out of my head.”

  It was quiet for a second as they both focused on eating. Crunching a crouton, Briana wondered if her confession would garner a response or if they’d move on to another topic.

  “When are you going to quit doing God’s work and come make some real money?”

  A deep voice broke through the silence, and Briana recognized her former colleague’s signature rasp before she even looked up to see Jill Jessup standing in her doorway.

  Briana swallowed and smiled, taking her time to put up a little sass of her own. “Are you offering me a partnership?” she asked.

  “Well, not right away. But you and me together, I’d say it’s definitely not out of the realm of possibility.”

  “You defense attorneys, always with the big lead. But present one simple challenge and you have nothing to back it. How does one win a case like that?” Briana winked at Stef, who was watching the spirited volley with interest.

  “I wouldn’t say nothing. I’ve been told my charms are very persuasive. With a jury, obvi
ously.”

  “Obviously,” Briana deadpanned. “Stef, this is Jill Jessup. She used to work here before she went over to the dark side.” She made sure to add a smile so JJ would know she was mostly kidding. “JJ,” she said, continuing the introductions, “this is Stefania Tariq. Stef’s with the legal team at the Wellington Group.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tariq.” Briana watched JJ give Stef a full once-over. “The Wellington Group. Impressive.” She reached into the inside breast pocket of her designer suit and produced a business card. “Jill Jessup. Managing Partner at Jessup Finch Silo Toussaint, if you ever need anything.”

  “How are you, JJ?” Briana crossed the small office to greet her old crony with a hug.

  “I’m doing well. I just wanted to say hello. One of my clients just had a proffer session with AUSA O’Rourke.”

  “Does it feel different being here, but on the wrong team?” she teased.

  “So young and naive. Still believing the government holds justice as a core value.” JJ covered her heart dramatically. “I do love that angelic outlook, though.” Her whole demeanor dripped confidence. “Anyway, ladies, I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. Briana, think about my offer.”

  “Was there even an offer?” she challenged.

  “Think about it.” JJ’s voice faded as she backed out of the doorway.

  Briana let her eyes trail JJ’s path until she was gone, idly pondering the vague employment offer. She loved being an Assistant US Attorney. The work was fulfilling personally and on a macro level. The narcotics case downstairs exemplified that. But the truth of the matter was she had big career aspirations, and there were moments she worried if her CV was broad enough to achieve her goals.

  “Um, hello?” Stef waved a plastic fork in the air, and the small action brought her back into the moment.

  “Hi.”

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  “Jill Jessup. JJ.” Briana shook her head, still lost in the memory of working together. “We had a few years of crossover here, before she started her practice. She was basically my mentor.”

  “Were you two ever…”

  “No.”

  “Really?” Stef’s voice was loaded with disbelief, and she understood why. JJ was her type. Tall, dapper, and brilliant. She was older than Briana by about ten years and her short dark hair was beginning to gray at the temples in the best way. Even age somehow improved her classic sexy vibe. It figured. JJ had a way of seeming to always get her way.

  “We worked together. I have a code, remember?”

  “You don’t work together now.”

  Stef had a point. Still, she had zero desire to pursue that path, and she knew it had everything to do with her off-limits obsession with Dylan.

  “I’m just saying, if you’re not going to allow yourself to have fun with the sexy detective, a hot butch lawyer could be a formidable substitute. You literally just said you were looking for a distraction.”

  She waved off Stef’s suggestion. “Don’t misunderstand me—JJ’s great. She’s very smart.”

  “But?”

  She’s not Dylan. “I don’t know, her whole shtick is a little smarmy.”

  “Smarmy, charming. Potato, potahto.”

  Briana laughed out loud. “Stef, she just flirted with both of us. Right in front of each other.”

  “I know. The cockiness.” Stef fanned herself. “Whoa.”

  “Go for it,” Briana said excitedly. “But full disclosure, JJ is a total player.”

  “At least I know it up front.”

  “That makes it better?”

  “After the Mackenzie debacle, I think it does.” Stef focused on her phone. “Anyway, I’m going to invite her to the Wellington event tomorrow. You have twenty-four hours to reconsider. After that, she’s fair game.”

  Briana laughed. It was cute to see Stef trying. “I am one hundred percent not interested. I have a one-track mind these days.”

  “Ridiculous. Even though I’m a little happy it might work to my advantage.” Stef winced. “Does that make me a terrible friend?”

  “It makes you human. And I’m all for it. But one question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  Stef hung her head. “The Wellington fundraiser. In our neighborhood. You promised you’d come.”

  “Oh right. At that chichi whiskey place.” The details came back to her. “Why do you need me there?”

  “I don’t. You can bail if you need to. But I convinced my boss that investing in a community outreach program was a good idea. Which it is.” Stef covered what remained of her lunch. “Tomorrow is a meet and greet with other stakeholders and community leaders, so my presence is required. Wellington is picking up the tab.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.” Stef always had her back. It was the least she could do to support her friend. “Want me to call JJ and extend the invite?”

  “Honey”—Stef shook her head—“my assistant is already handling that.”

  “Wow, you work fast.”

  “You have no idea.”

  * * *

  Oak and Vine was crawling with corporate ego. It wasn’t a total surprise—Briana knew Wellington’s clientele was heavily moneyed and mostly male. In the back of her mind she’d held out slight hope she might find someone cool to connect with just enough to help get her past her current fixation. But the wall-to-wall suits weren’t doing it for her, and after two glasses of wine, she was ready to happily find comfort in cozy pajamas and guilty pleasure TV.

  She did feel slightly bad leaving Stef flat. Company events at this level required game face even in the off hours, and it was fun to witness her friend in action. Stef was clearly the driving force behind the successful event, and she radiated confidence as she worked the room. JJ would eat it up if she showed. Hmm, Stef and JJ. She wondered if that had a shot, as she swung her light jacket across her shoulders.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re leaving.” Dylan’s voice in her ear caught her completely off guard.

  “Oh my God, hi,” she said with the unparalleled enthusiasm of a middle school science nerd talking to her quarterback crush.

  “Hi,” Dylan said smoothly.

  “Have you been here the whole time?” Briana asked.

  “I just got here a few minutes ago.” Dylan looked right at her, and her eyes were pleading before she said, “Please have a drink with me.”

  “I guess I could stay for one more.” Against all sound reasoning, Briana knew she’d stay for last call if Dylan continued to look at her like that.

  “Excellent. Wine or bourbon?”

  “Dylan, you don’t have to get it.” Briana touched Dylan’s forearm in protest. “I can pay for my own drink. In fact, I feel like I owe you from the last time. Let me get this.” She started to reach for a credit card, but Dylan stopped her.

  “It’s open bar.” Dylan’s smile was adorable. “Corporate sponsorship and all.”

  “Of course.” She blinked long and slow, mortified over her assumption Dylan was trying to pick up the tab.

  “I was headed to the bar, though.” Dylan swirled the last of her bourbon before downing the last sip. “What can I get for you?”

  “Cabernet, if you don’t mind.”

  Ten minutes later, as they sipped their drinks, Briana asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.” Dylan’s smile was devious and charming as hell.

  “Stef works for the Wellington Group.” She fanned her hand at the crowd. “The corporate sponsor.”

  “Well, that makes sense.”

  “What’s your excuse?”

  “I’m here as a member of the community board.”

  She said it with such nonchalance that Briana thought she was kidding at first. “Wait, for real?”

  “Yes. Why are you surprised?”

  “I don’t know. I just…I suppose I didn’t think that would be your thing.” For some reason she�
��d assumed the community board was all old money.

  “Anyone can be part of the community board,” Dylan said, as if reading her thought process. “It just requires devotion to the neighborhood and issues that affect it. There’s some volunteerism expected, but it’s not a huge commitment.” She paused to take a quick sip of her bourbon. “I enjoy giving back. This neighborhood has always been my home. Normally I’m not down for this type of social event, but this program is of particular interest to me. I wanted to show support.”

  “I came for Stef,” she admitted. “I honestly don’t even know what’s being promoted.”

  Dylan reached into her back pocket and pulled out the glossy postcard highlighting the program’s benefits. She placed it on the bar between them. “They’re developing a privately funded sports and arts program that’s the exact type of thing I would have loved to be in when I was a kid.”

  “Really?” She was insanely interested in hearing about Dylan’s life. Her third glass of wine was erasing any kind of barrier that might have kept her from asking for details. “Tell me why.”

  “My mom was only sixteen when I was born.”

  “Wow,” she said, unable to mask her shock. “That’s very young,” she said, finding her composure. “I just…it must have been hard.”

  “It was actually okay,” she said with an easy laugh.

  “Your dad…?”

  “Was also a teenager,” Dylan said with her signature smile.

  It was decades too late, but Briana was sure her concern was obvious.

  “It’s okay.” Dylan’s smooth voice forgave whatever pity must have showed on her face. “Honestly. We lived with my grandparents. In the brownstone where I live now. The one you saw. Me and my mom, and my uncle Tim. My grandparents were amazing. They were both nurses.”

  “Both of them?”

  “Yep. My nana worked days and my grandfather worked nights. They did that so someone was always home with me. They gave up so much of their lives for me.”

  “And look at you now. I’m sure they’re so proud of you.”

  “They would be.” Dylan’s nostalgic expression was steeped with adoration. “They’re both gone now.”