Page 128 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Finishing the one bourbon he’d allow himself for the night, Jake set the empty glass down. He’d been ready to make his move the moment George left Dana’s side, but the coroner swooped in. And now they were staring at him.

No time like the present, he told himself, pushing his way through the crowd. Walking up to Dana like this felt different. Dangerous. He’d done it a thousand times before, so why did this time feel like base jumping without a parachute?

Because you want this, his subconscious chided.

Ignoring his fears, Jake stopped in front of Dana and extended his hand. “Let’s dance.”

“W-what?” she stammered.

The coroner gave Dana a shove, which seemed to dislodge her from her stupor. Not waiting, Jake took Dana’s hand and led her onto the mostly vacant dance floor.

“You want to dance?” asked Dana, still appearing stunned.

“I want to talk,” Jake answered. “The dance floor seems to be the place we’re least likely to be interrupted.

Jake watched Dana look around as he pulled her into his arms. They were one of four couples swaying back and forth amongst a gaggle of toddlers bouncing to whatever chaotic rhythm kids heard in their minds. It certainly wasn’t the timeless melody of Ella Fitzgerald.

Jake couldn’t help noticing that Dana had taken her heels off.

He loved when she was barefoot. It made her the perfect height.

He slipped his hand lower, resting it on the small of her back as he settled her against him.

Her chin just below his shoulder, her cheek pressed against his—lips within reach.

She fit in his arms like a missing puzzle piece.

If she noticed, she didn’t let on. But she didn’t fight it either. And she let him lead—another win.

Jake moved her around the dance floor. They traded small talk for a while. But in the quiet lull between songs, Dana finally asked. “Where’ve you been?”

“The bar, mostly.”

“Not tonight,” she amended.

He smiled. “What happened to putting the questions aside for the night?”

“I know I agreed to that but?—”

His laughter cut her off. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“Then why’d you ask me to?”

“Because we deserve it. This,” he said, gesturing to the deep purple night sky above them.

“You showed me that. I shouldn’t have given you hell for coming here.

I still don’t like the way you left, but I get it now.

Needing to take some time for yourself. I never do that.

I go from case to case to case, thinking I’ll take time after the next one, but there’s always something else, some other case more important than my plans.

I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

“Jake … what are you saying?”

“Not sure. Maybe nothing.” But that wasn’t true. The decision he made wasn’t nothing. Their connection wasn’t nothing. If he told her the truth, potentially, this could be everything.

Dana gave him a penetrating look. Like always she seemed to see past his defenses and cut right to his core. “Are you leaving the bureau? ”

“I don’t belong there anymore.” Saying it out loud felt foreign.

“Jake, if being here is putting your career in jeopardy …”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” she encouraged, her arms encircling his neck a bit tighter.

He sighed, pondering where to start. “The longer I’ve stretched my time away the less I feel like going back.”

“That’s normal when you take time off. And if anyone deserves a vacation, it’s you.”

Jake smirked. “I know you’re into this kind of stuff, Doc, but traipsing through graveyards isn’t exactly my idea of vacation.”

“Exactly my point,” she said. “You should do something for you.”

“I think that’s what I’ve realized stepping back from the bureau would be.”

“Jake, I know you. You like structure, knowing you’re helping people.”

“Yeah, I do. But maybe I can find another way to do that.”

She looked at him. “You’re serious.”

His plan withered like a sapling under the summer’s sun when she turned the full force of her intense gaze on him. He wanted to shrug off his ridiculous idea and change the subject. But he couldn’t. He’d already pulled the pin on this grenade. Now he needed to assess the damage.

But he needed a moment.

Dana seemed to understand. She let him pull her closer. Together, they swayed under the blanket of stars, content in the quietness for a moment.

Dana spoke first. “You’ve already left, haven’t you?”

He swallowed thickly but nodded.

She stopped swaying and stared into his eyes. “Tell me your decision to leave the FBI has nothing to do with me leaving D.C.”

“I can’t.”

She looked up at him, sadness clouding her gaze. “Jake …”

“It’s not like that,” he assured her. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.

It’s always been in the back of my mind, growing a little stronger every time my hands were tied by red tape or bureaucratic bullshit.

And our last few cases …” He trailed off, knowing if anyone understood the nightmare Jake saw every time he shut his eyes, it was Dana. She’d lived it right alongside him.

“You were dragged into those cases because of me,” she replied.

“And here I thought I was the one who did the dragging. I’m the FBI agent, remember?”

“Yes, but it was my field of expertise that brought the demons out of the darkness and into your life.”

“Our life,” Jake clarified. Dana tensed in his arms, but she didn’t pull away. She continued staring at him, those big brown eyes of hers inviting him in. “There will always be monsters in this world, Dana.”

“I know that. And I feel a whole lot better knowing good guys like you are there to stop them.” Her gaze was pleading. “Don’t leave the FBI, Jake. The world needs more people like you.”

“I know, but I can’t help thinking I can do more without the bureau.”

“How do you mean?”

Jake didn’t know why he shied away from just telling Dana everything.

Maybe it was because saying it to her meant admitting he wanted it.

And that was something he tried not to let himself do.

To want things … to hope and dream. That’s what made men vulnerable.

And that was something he refused to be.

Stroking a loose tendril of hair from her cheek, he implored her to understand. “Dana, I see you in New Orleans, and you’re thriving.”

She started to shake her head. “Jake?—”

“Hear me out,” he interrupted. “I know why you left D.C. But seeing that you can fit here, that you can find a place to do what you do best somewhere new, it gives me hope that I can branch out, too.”

“But where?”

“I’m not sure yet. If this works, the beauty of it is I won’t have to settle for just one place. The bureau’s new director made it clear I’m out, but Jenks still has some reach.” He paused, knowing there was no going back if he said it, but he realized he didn’t care .

He didn’t want to go back. Whether Dana did or not, D.C. didn’t have its claws in him anymore.

“I’m going out on my own. I’ve talked to my contacts already and laid the groundwork. The private sector will allow me the flexibility to choose my own cases, do more without pressure from the Hill weighing in on every decision.” Jake swallowed. “What do you think?”

Dana’s brown eyes were wide with … Shock? Disappointment?

“It’s stupid, I know,” said Jake.

But Dana wouldn’t let him take it back. “No,” she said, pulling him closer. “It’s perfect. I feel foolish for not thinking of it sooner.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s perfect, Jake. It’ll give you the flexibility to spend more time with your family, too.”

“Yeah, that’s been a heavy factor in my decision.”

“So, you’ve already decided?”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve said it out loud, but … yeah. It feels right.”

She beamed at him in that way that made his chest tight. “Tell me the name?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on! If you thought it through this far, you have a name. What is it?”

He shrugged. “Shepard Solutions.”

“We can do better than that.”

His mind hitched on the fact that she’d used we. “Yeah?”

Her hands moved slowly from his shoulders to cup his cheeks. She chewed her bottom lip while scrutinizing him. “What about … Good Shepard Solutions?”

Jake closed his eyes as he leaned into her touch. He allowed himself one full breath before opening his eyes again. His gaze found hers. “You give me too much credit, Doc.”

“You don’t give yourself enough.”

“A lot of what I’ve done in my life wouldn’t be classified as good, Dana. ”

The knowing sadness in her gaze told him she understood. “You dwell in the dark, so others don’t have to.”

“I could say the same about you.”

She shook her head. “I belong in the dark.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Jake …”

“No, Dana. I know who you are. You’re not the woman I first met, dwelling in an underground library devoted to death. Maybe once upon a time you belonged there, but you’re the one who taught me it’s okay to let someone lead you to the light. Let me do that for you.”

She leaned back until her eyes met his. “It’s more than that, Jake. I know how you feel about me. I’m not saying I don’t feel the same, but I know I can’t if you don’t understand one fundamental fact.”

“What’s that?”

“Death and darkness, it’s who I am. And if there’s ever going to be a way out of it, I need to find it myself.”

The song ended and Dana started to pull away, but Jake held her back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not ready for this to end.”

“Jake …”

“I know,” he said, sensing her protest. “I wanted one night. But I’ll settle for just one more song.”

She acquiesced, settling her head on his shoulder as the soft swell of another bluesy beat filled the air. “This isn’t our last dance,” she said when he tightened his grip.

“Maybe.” He exhaled. “But I’m operating on life experience.”

She grinned up at him. “Which is?”

“Don’t care to say.”

“Well now you have to,” she teased.

Jake thought about placating her with a joke, but the tightness in his throat made him opt for the truth. He ran his hand from the small of her back to her neck and back again before speaking. When he did, his voice plunged lower. “When things feel this good, they’re about to end. ”

She gazed up at him, the glowing embers in her brown eyes a small kernel of warmth against the ice forming in his chest. The song faded, replaced with something poppy and fast-paced. For a moment they just stood there, two immovable objects in a sea of oblivious joy.