Page 30 of No Reason to Trust

What to do about it?

She’d do what she’d always done with uncomfortable feelings -- ignore them. If she ignored them long enough, they always went away.

On the other side of the table, Jake took a too-big gulp of his wine. He coughed, setting the glass on the table. His hand shook, and for a moment, Livvy was sure the wine was going to tip over.

Jake reached out and steadied the glass, and she drew a deep breath. The silence between them had become… charged. Almost uncomfortable. So she said, “Nice save.”

He shrugged. “Don’t want to waste good wine. Which this is, by the way. You must have had it before.”

“Yeah, I like it a lot. It’s a great wine for its price.” She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Was she really this awkward around Jake? This self-conscious? She’d never been before. Once they’d discussed what had happened in Brighton Beach, she’d felt perfectly comfortable with him.

Until that kiss in the alley tonight. It was supposed to be fake. A show for the men walking past the alley. But it sure as hell hadn’t feltfake. Her heart had been jack-hammering in her chest from the moment he’d put his mouth on hers. She’d been breathless. Shaky. Had to hold onto Jake to keep herself upright. And when he’d curled his arm around her and drew her closer, pressed her against him, his hard length pressing into her belly had made it clear that Jake was affected as well.

Enough of this trip down memory lane. Re-living what had happened in that alley could be nothing but trouble for her. Maybe for Jake, as well, based on what she’d felt when he’d pressed her against him.

She took a too-big gulp of wine, coughed a couple of times, then set the glass on the table, irritated when she realized her hand was shaking. As the silence grew increasingly uncomfortable, neither one of them spoke. A sudden knock on the door released the almost unbearable tension.

“Dinner,” Jake said, jumping to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he grabbed his wallet and pulled out some cash. He hurried to the door, opened it and said, “Thanks so much.” He shoved the money at the kid delivering their dinner, then pulled the rolling table into the room and shut the door a little too hard. Made sure the door was locked, then wheeled their dinners over to the table where they’d been sitting.

Lifting the lids from the plates, he set them on the little rolling cart and handed her a plate of roasted salmon, asparagus and a mashed sweet potato. Then he put the lid covering his dinner on top of hers, revealing a steak, green beans and a baked potato. Fish for her, steak for him. So sue him for eating red meat.

Livvy’s mouth twitched as she glanced at his steak, but she didn’t say a thing.

They ate silently for several minutes, until the silence felt too… heavy. Too fraught. Finally, Livvy said, “More wine?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he said, even though his glass was still a quarter full. She turned and pulled the bottle out of the refrigerator and handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers as he took the bottle, and an electric shock zinged through her body.

When he handed it back, she poured more wine into her own glass, even though, like his, her glass still held wine. Then she swiveled and put the bottle back in the refrigerator.

They’d eaten most of their dinners when Jake cleared his throat. “What time do you figure those guys get to the office?” he asked.

Good. Business. That’s what they needed to break this uncomfortable, awkward silence between them. She swallowed the bite of salmon she’d just eaten and set her fork on her plate. Studied him for a long moment. “They may be different from the Brighton Beach guys I met with,” she said carefully. “But I did some reading after that debacle and apparently the Bratva guys have a routine. They leave their houses and meet their… their gang members, for lack of a better word, at nine or so. They go to a coffee shop, have coffee and pastries, then head to their offices. They’re usually in place by eleven or so. According to a couple of articles I read about them.”

Jake nodded slowly. “That jibes with what I’ve read.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and scanned it. Then handed it to Livvy. “This is what Nelson gave me. Not much besides the address and room number, but at the bottom, he’d scribbled that they’re in the office by eleven. So we should start listening for the recording at ten o’clock or so.” His smile was strained. “They may have a lot of things to discuss. We don’t want to miss any of it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Livvy said. She set her silverware on her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. She really, really didn’t want to watch Jake walk into that room. God only knew what he’d find there. Those men could shoot him the minute he walked through the door. If she wanted to ambush someone? That’s what she’d do. Strike before they could compose themselves.

She wanted to beg him not to go -- not to meet with those men, but knew that he had to do it. It was his job, and he’d always been very careful to play by FBI rules.

Livvy pushed her plate away, unable to eat another bite. Jake had done the same thing.

Drawing a breath, he said, “You done there?”

“Yeah.” She pressed her hand against her stomach. “I’ll have more of an appetite when this is over.”

“Me, too,” Jake said. He stood up and put the plates back on the rolling cart, then moved it into the hall. Closed and locked the door.

“You want to watch TV?” he asked. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a really long day.”

“I’m turning in, too,” Livvy said, eyeing the two queen-sized beds. A part of her wished they’d gotten a room with a king-sized bed. It would have been plenty big for both of them, but tonight, she wanted to be close to Jake.

And that was a problem. Jake was the very last guy she should want to be close to.

Chapter 12

Pale sunlight leaked beneath the blinds and Jake, still half asleep, rolled over. He reached across the bed, but found nothing but cold sheets. Opening his eyes, he saw Livvy in the other bed, still sound asleep.

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