Jo Robertson - The Avenger

He shut down the idea of Livvie and Slater making each other happy, tapped down feelings of jealousy. Slater had always seen Olivia as a kid, a little sister, someone he was honor bound to protect. That wouldn't have changed.

"I got a call from your boss," Slater grumbled, waving Jack toward a padded folding chair, "and I'm about to get another visit from mine. Apparently your organization seems to think they're the only big dogs in the pack."

Jack guessed immediately what'd happened. The Judge had weaved his magic, made the proper contacts, and gotten the official support of the Bigler County District Attorney Charles Barrington. A county D.A. was the sheriff's boss, and Jack sensed that Slater and Barrington had antagonism between them.

Before Slater could sit, his intercom buzzed again.

Connie's throaty voice came over the system. "D.A.'s here, Chief. I put him in the waiting area," she cackled.

Slater smiled thinly. "Make him wait a few minutes and then send him in." He turned to Jack and looked pointedly at Olivia. "You didn't say she was involved in this."

Jack shrugged. "The Invictus Director insisted on her assisting with the case." Not exactly true, but close enough.

At that moment the door swung open and a short man in his late thirties stormed into the office. "I've been waiting." Barrington snarled.

When Jack stood and introduced Olivia and himself, however, Barrington's face turned beatific. He pumped Jack's hand enthusiastically. "We're happy to help the federal government in any way we can, Agent Holt." He threw Olivia a dismissive glance, and she sank back into her chair, an unreadable expression on her face.

"The Organization appreciates your support, Mr. Barrington."

"Great!" The district attorney rubbed his palms together like a chef ready to serve up his specialty. "You have our absolute cooperation, Agent Holt. Anything you want, anything at all, it's yours – deputies, Sheriff Slater, Dr. Gant."

Jack wondered how Olivia liked being a bartered item and caught her rolling her eyes.

Silence reigned for a full minute after Barrington left.

"Okay, Jack," Slater said. "Tell us what we need to know."

Two hours later, Jack had outlined the basic facts of the Dead Language Killer case. With chilling concern Olivia watched him present the details of the murders as if the victims were nothing more than faceless people whose violent deaths were a puzzle for him to solve. She scanned his features for an indication that he had a personal connection with them. The Jack she'd known and loved would've suffered with his victims, but this Jack was a hard, cold man without empathy or compassion. Was this detachment a persona he affected to do his work?

Or had Jack actually turned into this remote, unfeeling man?

"Any questions?" he asked as he concluded.

"I know Charlie Barrington promised heaven and earth for you, Jack," Slater warned, "but the facts are that we're a small county. I don't have that kind of manpower."

"I'll manage." Jack stood and looked at Olivia. "Ah, would you mind stepping outside a moment?"

They wanted to talk about the dead body up at Lake Tahoe, but she wasn't going to let Jack soften the news for her. "No," she answered quietly. "If I'm helping on this case, then I'm in all the way." When Jack looked like he'd argue, she lifted her brows. "All or nothing, Jack."

"All right, then." He turned back to Slater. "Have you formally ID'ed the body at the lake?"

Slater's gaze bounced from Jack to Olivia and back again.

"One of my students is missing," Olivia explained, "and I thought… maybe… " She trailed off. Then she sat down again, expecting the worst kind of blow.

Slater reached for a slender file on his desk. "We used dental records," he said softly, looking at Olivia with tenderness on his rugged face. "A student at Fatima University named Keisha Johnson."

Even though she'd expected it, the words were sharp punches to her stomach. Olivia felt herself pitch forward. Or rather, felt Jack push her head between her knees.

"Steady now," he said, his voice kind too, something she hadn't expected. "Steady."

For no reason she could name, anger replaced grief in an instant. She sat up, batting at his large hand, warm and rough at the back of her neck. "I'm okay. I'm all right."

She stood and swayed, disproving her confident words.

"Like hell you are." Jack shoved her back into her chair, this time none too gently. "Water?" he said to Slater.

But Ben had already rung his assistant and Connie pushed through the door with a paper cup of water. Olivia drank thirstily and then dipped her fingers into the cup, running them across her forehead and down her temples.

Fifteen minutes later, feeling a little better, she hoisted her purse over her shoulder, gave Ben a fierce hug, and walked with Jack to the door. She looked back to catch Slater's serious gray eyes locked on them.

At her side Jack watched her with an intense frown, but whether from concern or irritation, she couldn't tell. She stepped through the metal detectors and out the double doors of the court house, shivering even though the early evening was quite mild.

By the time they reached the parking lot, the street lamps had winked on. Jack walked her to her car. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him. "We should talk."

He dragged his eyes from her lips. "We'll spend more time together on this case than we ever thought possible." He forced a laugh. "We'll be sick of each other by the time we're finished."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"You're right, we need to talk." He rested his arm against the car roof and caught her scent. "Now's just not the right time."

She frowned. "You owe me an explanation. You can't just brush over the facts as if they never happened."

He shook his head impatiently. "Do you even know the facts, Olivia? Do you know what happened graduation night? What happened to Roger Strong?"

Confusion crossed her face. "My stepfather?"

"Yeah, that drunken lump of humanity who made your life hell."

"What's he got to do with it?" She rushed on. "He… mom said he left her." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "He just took off and we never heard from him again."

"And your mother was always so reliable," he said sarcastically.

"If you know something I don't, tell me. I've been waiting a long time for the truth."

He wanted to build a barrier between them out of her anger, but he couldn't. Instead he traced a knuckle down her smooth cheek and felt her lean involuntarily into his hand. He breathed deeply as her silky hair brushed against his jaw, feeling the pull of her like a magnet.

"Tell me," she whispered.

He dropped his hand. "Right now we've got to concentrate on the case. Until it's solved, we can't let personal issues get in the way."

She turned away, slid into the driver's seat, and stared over the steering wheel as if the fight had gone out of her. "It feels like we never… finished. Like we need to settle whatever was between us back then."

"We were just kids."

He leaned into the car interior and a breeze blew strands of her hair across his mouth. The urge to touch her was painful. "It didn't mean anything," he lied.

Olivia nodded stiffly. "We were just kids," she repeated and changed the subject. "Where are you staying?"

He stepped back and shifted his briefcase to the other hand. "The Brooksfield off Interstate 80 below Rocklin, but I need to other arrangements."

A primitive force surged through him as he took in her face bathed in the soft glow of the dash. The pure animal attraction was so strong he felt his control slipping. Why did she bring out this… urge in him? She looked so damned appealing with her makeup all gone and her hair tangled in the way that reminded him of how she'd looked that morning.