Deadly Contact. Lara Lacombe

familiar to him, so he’d struck up a conversation. It turned out they had gone to the same college and had even shared some mutual friends, but by some quirk of fate they hadn’t officially met back then. After finding out she lived in a nearby neighborhood, he had suggested they meet up for drinks sometime. She’d taken him up on the offer, and they’d quickly developed a solid friendship.

      Normally, Kelly was fun and easygoing when they got together, having only one or two drinks each time. He’d never seen her drunk, but if her current mood was any indication, he would tonight.

      She set the bottle down with a loud thunk, then wriggled out of her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. Facing him again, she smoothed a hand over her auburn hair and tucked the stray strands behind her ear.

      “You are not gonna believe the week I’ve had,” she said, her hazel eyes flashing as she reached for the bottle. He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, not missing a beat. “My boss is driving me crazy.”

      “I figured as much,” he said, sensing a rant in his future. “What’s he done now?”

      Kelly rolled her eyes and took a sip. “What hasn’t he done is the better question. Remember that project I was telling you about?”

      He closed his eyes and tried to recall the conversation. “Vaguely,” he said slowly as the details came back to him. “But I didn’t really understand what you were saying. You got a little jargon-y on me there, and you know I didn’t take any biology in college.”

      She grinned at him, amused as always by his lack of scientific knowledge. “Yeah, sorry about that. Anyway, I’m not getting the results he expected, so he pulled me into his office today and reamed me out. Said I was a bad scientist, and if I couldn’t do the job he paid me to do, he’d find someone else.”

      “Can he do that?”

      She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah. Technically he’d have to show cause, but since his grant is paying my salary, the university won’t really ask too many questions if he decides to fire me. It’s his lab, and the investigators have total authority over their labs. But you know what the worst part is?” She leaned forward, and he caught a whiff of her honeysuckle perfume as she moved. “The data are correct, and he’s wrong. He just won’t admit it.”

      “What’s he wrong about?” James was genuinely curious, but he didn’t hold out hope that he’d understand her project or results. He’d never been very good at science in school. Philosophy and law fascinated him much more. He’d take a criminal over a lab report any day.

      She launched into an explanation of her experiments, and to her credit, she did try to dumb it down for him. He listened intently, occasionally interjecting an “uh-huh” or a nod to encourage her. He loved watching her talk, the way she gestured and moved, her body language communicating just as much as her words. With her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, she was a sight to behold.

      She finished her beer and signaled to Danny for another. “Anyway, it’s a big mess and it all kind of came to a head today. Sorry to vent to you.”

      He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “It’s no problem—that’s what I’m here for.”

      She smiled at him as he pulled back, then cleared her throat. “Enough about me and my crappy day. How are you? What’s new with you this week?”

      “Not much to tell,” he said, nodding at Danny as the bartender set down fresh bottles. “I’m still working on the pipe-bomb case, and Carmichael is breathing down my neck for results.”

      She winced in sympathy. “Any leads?”

      “Yeah, a few.” He shrugged, wanting to tell her more but knowing he shouldn’t really talk about the details of the case. “I think it’s going to turn out to be one of the kids.”

      Her eyes widened as she sipped her beer. “Why would a kid bring a pipe bomb to school?”

      “To show off. To scare someone. Because they thought it would be cool. Why do teenage boys do anything?”

      “Good point.”

      “I’m just glad it didn’t explode,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “The last thing we need right now is more tension, and you know an explosion at a local school would freak people out.”

      Kelly shook her head as she watched him. “Why did they bring you guys in on this in the first place? Shouldn’t the D.C. cops have handled it?”

      He sighed, suddenly tired. “It all comes down to appearances. The police don’t want to be accused of not taking the threat seriously, so they ask the FBI to join the investigation, to make sure they’re not missing anything. Since we don’t want to be accused of the same thing, we conduct a full investigation, even though this really is a matter better left to the locals.” He shook his head. “It’s all very circular, and at the end of the day, I’m not sure it really makes a difference.”

      Kelly studied him a moment, her head cocked to the side. “Are you saying you’re tired of working for the bureau?”

      “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He shrugged, raising his bottle to his lips for another swallow. “Some days I feel like I’m really making a difference, and then other days I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels.”

      “Not to be a Debbie Downer, but I’m pretty sure everybody feels that way at one point or another, regardless of their job. I know I do.”

      He nodded, picking at the label on his bottle. She was right, of course, but lately he’d had a string of bad days, making him question if he was really doing any good at all. He should probably take a vacation, get away for a few days and clear his head.

      Kelly clapped her hands, jerking him out of his thoughts. “You know what we need? Irish car bombs.”

      He shuddered in mock horror. “Please don’t say bomb too loudly.”

      She grinned back at him. “We’re in a bar. I’m pretty sure Danny isn’t going to call the police when I place this order.”

      A moment later, Danny appeared at the table with the requisite ingredients. James stifled a groan. Irish car bombs were a sneaky drink—they tasted like a chocolate milk shake, and more than once he’d been seduced into drinking several of them. It was only after he stood up that he realized how much of a wallop they packed.

      “Ready?” Kelly asked, holding up her shot and reaching across the table to clink glasses with him.

      Her expectant grin had him smiling in return. One car bomb couldn’t hurt, and it was a good way to celebrate the end of the week. “Ready.”

      The dual thump of the shot glasses hitting the bottom of the pint glasses signaled the start of the race, and they both chugged the frothy mixture. He set his glass down first, wiping the bubbly residue off his lip with the back of his hand. An instant later, Kelly set her glass down as well, saying that she’d let him win.

      “Not likely, princess,” he said, grinning at her. “I’m a car-bomb champion from way back.”

      She laughed, her tongue darting out to lick the foam off her lips. The action sent a zing of awareness through his system, and an unbidden thought popped into his mind: God, she’s beautiful.

      He’d found her attractive from the start, but since he’d been buried in work and she had been, too, he hadn’t tried to strike up anything more than a friendship with her. By the time his schedule had cleared up, they’d been friends for so long he didn’t think she’d be interested in anything more, and he wasn’t willing to risk ruining that friendship by telling her he wanted to take things to the next level.

      He wasn’t pining for her, exactly, but he hadn’t been on a date since they’d met. He probably should find someone in order to get over these less-than-platonic feelings. The trouble was, he wasn’t interested in anyone else.

      “I demand a rematch!”