Page 9 of Play the Game
“Thanks for making me disappear from the system, man. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t have that kind of firepower.”
“Bond?” I asked hopefully.
“Red doesn’t, either,” he said.
“So, I guess—”
“Yep. Red was making the call before I even had my pants on.” He frowned. “Good luck. You might need it. Now get the hell out of here before Ramirez finds out his CI has been spirited away by the feds.”
I widened my eyes. Sometimes the speed with which X worked even shocked me. “His CI, so not his drinking buddy.”
He shook his head. “Ramirez is also an asshole, but he’s not a dirty cop.”
“Good to know. Thanks again for your help.” I hurried down the hall, turned right into the lobby, and thankfully, was able to slip out the front doors of the station without running into the asshole-but-not-dirty cop.
Now I just had to survive the wrath of Tam. And Bond. And TJ and, most of all, X. Hell, after this fiasco, I had to figure out how to get back in the good graces of everyone at HEAT. But no one’s opinion of me mattered more to me than that of my best friend.
CHAPTER 4
Tamela
I was notready to forgive Jason Jensen. After a few hours of sleep in my studio apartment in the HEAT building the night before last, I’d spent a long day explaining myself to X, TJ, and Penn. I hadn’t even caught sight of Jensen, which was best for all of us. Last night, I’d had another poor night’s sleep, so at the crack of dawn, I’d made myself a pot of coffee in the first-floor staff kitchen, then holed up in the second-floor sensitive compartmented information facility, or SCIF. I was reviewing nonclassified documents pertaining to the Carbonados and the limited and circumstantial ties between them and Charlie Franklin, and wondering what, if anything, Jensen and Alder had found on the thug’s phone.
Which meant soon I would have to trek down to the IT room and ask questions. I would text Kessler and Li first and ask them to lure Jensen away so I could have a conversation with Alder, the only civilized adult on our IT crew.
From the hallway, someone punched the security code into the cipher lock. I braced myself for X or TJ to enter and give me another lecture. Although, honestly, the conversations yesterday were more like those awkward talks with parents that end in them announcing how disappointed they are. Penn had used more colorful and heated language. He’d also worked himself up into a frenzy and possibly caused more damage to one of his ribs, which had earned him an increased sedative dose from Bond, so at least he wasn’t on the potential visitors’ list.
The door swung open and a white kitchen tray with a silver-lidded plate and a steaming cup of coffee entered the room first. I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned back in my chair, and sighed. There was only one person in HEAT who would come to me in the SCIF, bearing breakfast.
Jason smiled politely and placed the tray in front of me like he was a food server at a high-end restaurant. He removed the silver lid and set it aside. I wasn’t surprised by his offering, because he knew breakfast was my favorite meal, and his vegetable frittata with secret seasoning ingredients, a side of barely crispy bacon, and a steaming latte made up my favorite breakfast. He sat down across from me at the conference table and folded his hands in front of him, silently waiting.
If he had been any other friend, or probably any other person in the world, bringing this peace offering only thirty-two hours after getting me arrested—arrested, for Christ’s sake!—I would have pushed the tray back at him. But food was Jason’s love language, and his connection to it ran deep.
Early in our friendship, we’d bonded over being raised by single moms. My dad had died when I was thirteen, leaving my fully employed but underpaid mom struggling to take on more hours at the office to climb the corporate ladder and pay scale. I’d gone from a straight-A, extra-curricular-excelling, normal kid, to a straight-A, extra-curricular-excelling, second mom to my sisters. My mom was far from absent, though, arriving home in time for dinner, homework checks, and bedtime before booting up her work computer and putting in hours late into the night. And the weekends were devoted to family time. Caring for my sisters hadn’t felt like a burden. It had felt like being part of a team. A noisy, boisterous, always-in-my-face team, which was probably why I appreciated having my HEAT team, and also the ability to go home to my quiet apartment near DC between missions.
When Jason’s parents, both tech innovators, had divorced when he was twelve and his dad had moved to Singapore for the job opportunity of a lifetime, his world had immediately become quieter. While his mom didn’t struggle financially as my mom had, she’d used her work as an emotional crutch, leaving Jason to his own devices, his online gaming and hacking buddies, and his real-world, troublemaking friends. It was a miracle he’d ended up on the right side of the law, although he’d come via threatened indictment by the FBI. But he’d taken up cooking during his high school years, finding a conduit to his mother.
I still remembered how he’d told me about it so nonchalantly two years ago, the second time we’d worked together.I called her one night and told her I’d made dinner, and it had been hard to make but had come out amazing. And she came home. After that, I’d cook for her two or three nights a week, and she’d be home by eight to have dinner with me.Preparing food had been the way he’d stayed connected to the most important person in his life back then.
So, when Jason placed a plate of food in front of me, he wasn’t just saying I should eat something. He was doing the only thing he knew to do to repair us. He was sayingI love you. I’m sorry. You’re my best friend, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you.Which meant I was going to forgive him after thirty-two short hours. But I wasn’t going to be quick about it.
I sighed dramatically and picked up my fork. I took a small bite of the frittata, and the flavors exploded in my mouth, then melted over my tongue. When I refused to let the ecstasy of the experience show on my face, Jason raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. He was worried. Good. I followed that first, amazing nibble with an equally small bite of bacon, then sipped the perfectly steamed latte with just the right amount of foam, still keeping my expression neutral.
I sighed one more time, then nodded. “Fine, I forgive you.”
He wooted as he launched out of his chair and circled the table. He threw his arms around my neck. “You had me worried. You’re too good an actor.”
I glared at him as he slid into the seat beside me. “I wasn’t acting when it came to how pissed I was at you.”
“I know. I know. Keep eating because I need you to remember how much you love me when I tell you what Alder and I have learned from Franklin’s phone.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
He shook his head. “Eat first. Please.”
I did as he asked, not only because I was starving and Jason’s cooking was beyond amazing, but also because the man was stubborn as hell when he wanted to be. When I was finished, I set down my empty coffee cup and arched an eyebrow. “What have you learned?”
