Facing It by Linda Winfree Read Free Book Online Page A

dipping her in his arms with a flourish as he did so. Jennifer stared, a slow burn of jealousy starting in her chest. This was not the Harrell Beecham, stolid FBI agent, she knew so well. This wasn’t her Beecham.
    The door squeaked open behind Jennifer.
    “Hey, buddy, unhand my wife.” The deep drawl held a slight edge of menace beneath the teasing note.
    With a slow chuckle, Beecham restored the brunette to her feet but didn’t release her, his arms looped lightly about her waist. “Knew I should have stolen you away from him when I had the chance.”
    Sure she’d stepped into the twilight zone, Jennifer glanced backward. The lean dark-haired man standing just inside the door was at least four inches taller than Beecham. Clad in khakis and a dark green polo, he grinned at the tableau, but the expression didn’t quite meet his brown watchful eyes.
    Thumbs tucked in his pockets and his stance one of forced relaxation, he lifted his eyebrows. “What chance?”
    Beecham returned his grin. “Hey, I had chances. Didn’t I, Cait?”
    The brunette patted his arm in a gesture of friendly comfort before she stepped away. “Sure you did, Beech.”
    Beecham seemed to return to himself with a start. “Jennifer, let me introduce you. Caitlin Falconetti, one of our fellow agents, and her husband, Tick Calvert.” He waved a hand behind him. “Lead investigator here now, right?”
    Calvert nodded and Beecham continued, “My partner, Agent Jennifer Settles.”
    Once the murmured hellos subsided, Calvert eyed Beecham. “So what brings you to this neck of the woods? The wilds and badlands of south Georgia usually aren’t your stomping grounds.”
    “You have to ask?” Beecham glanced toward the front desk, where the young deputy was taking everything in with keen interest. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
    Calvert gestured at the hallway. “We can use the conference room.”
    Conference room was a generous term for the cramped area he ushered them into, filled with mismatched furniture and crammed with storage boxes. Jennifer took a seat, as did Falconetti, but the two men faced off on foot at opposite ends of the table once Calvert closed the door.
    Beecham shook his head. “Damn it, Tick, I’m here because you’ve already given two agents the runaround today.”
    With a careless shrug, Calvert dropped into the chair next to Falconetti. “What makes you think you’re getting anything different?”
    “I can help. You know that—”
    “What I know is that if you’re here, you were aware she was in trouble and you didn’t do a damn thing to help her.”
    “Tick—”
    “Why don’t you cut the bullshit, Beecham, and tell me what’s really going on?”
    “I can’t do that.”
    “Then I can’t help you.”
    His attitude grated its way under Jennifer’s skin. She leaned forward. “We could charge you with obstruction. Sitting in a cell for a couple of days might change your mind.”
    He laughed aloud, a near-mocking snort. Beecham turned a glare in her direction. Falconetti tensed and rolled her eyes with a muttered, “Oh, God.”
    Jennifer’s neck burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Beecham was supposed to be on her side. They were a team and heaven knew they’d worked that tactic before. Now, the rules had changed and no one had given Jennifer the revised copy.
    It royally pissed her off.
    She returned Beecham’s narrow-eyed stare. He looked away first, returning his attention to Tick Calvert. “I need you to trust me.”
    “If we were working a case together, in a heartbeat,” Calvert replied. “This is different. This is family.”
    “Cait?” Beecham slid an entreating glance in Falconetti’s direction. “Help me out here.”
    “Sorry, Beech.” She lifted one shoulder. “For better or worse, putting him before everyone else, all that jazz. You’re on your own, I’m afraid.”
    With a rough sigh, Beecham rubbed a hand over his nape before he pulled a card from his