Page 57 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dana hated the thoughts niggling at the back of her mind at such an intimate moment, but they refused to leave her alone.

Images of crime scenes, cemeteries, and now Voodoo ceremonies swirled into the constant cyclone of past cases she’d worked over the years, which of course brought Jake back to the forefront of her mind.

He’d been instrumental in pushing George into Dana’s path, but she had to wonder if he meant for it to go this far. Were she and Jake really over before they’d begun? Starting something with George felt like putting the nail in the proverbial coffin of their relationship.

She wasn’t sure she could do it.

She also wasn’t sure what was holding her back.

As Dana looked at George, patiently waiting for her to make up her mind, she realized how different the two men were.

George was calm, quiet, collected. He offered her space to gather her thoughts, analyze a situation.

Truthfully, it was the way she preferred to operate.

She could say more or not. Either way, she knew George wouldn’t push.

It was a quality Dana admired. Especially when compared to the way Jake always poked and pried, challenging her at every opportunity.

Sometimes Dana loathed the fervent debating between her and her surly FBI partner. There was no arguing that she and Jake drove each other to accept nothing but their level best—and that was something she could never refute. That and the unhinged passion they’d shared before she left D.C.

But she wasn’t here to compare men.

For Dana, coming to New Orleans had always been about finding herself and figuring out what came next in her life. She didn’t know what that was yet, but she was tired of living in between.

Perhaps that’s why she finally began talking about what happened in D.C.

For the first time since fleeing the city she’d called home, she was ready to face the truth.

“I always wanted to come here,” Dana started.

“But being here after what happened in D.C…” She paused. “I wonder if it was a mistake.”

George stayed quiet, his only response the subtle easing of his posture as he released her and leaned back against the porch rail. The streetlights cut him in a striking silhouette. Drawn in, Dana joined him on the rail.

The wooden railing groaned but held when she leaned against it. Dana let her palms caress the worn grains of wood that peeked through the layers of paint. For a brief moment her mind wandered as she pondered just how much history was buried beneath each coat.

Her fingernail scratched gently at the smooth paint, wishing she could peel each layer back and absorb the history hidden there—like an onion, giving up a little more of itself with each layer.

Jake flashed in Dana’s mind, his smirk cutting a familiar line across his chiseled features as it always did when he discovered something about her.

He’d often called her an onion. It was an accurate assessment.

Dana was slow to reveal herself, even slower to trust, and for good reason.

Life had taught her the prudence of caution at an early age.

A lesson that was sadly repeated more frequently than necessary.

The events of her last case perhaps being the most catastrophic and irrefutable lesson of all.

It all came crashing back with horrific clarity. Dana closed her eyes and drew in a breath. When she opened them, she remembered where she was, and why.

George patiently gazed at his shoes. For some reason, his lack of pressure made her want to open up.

“I told you I don’t trust my instincts,” Dana admitted. “There’s a reason for that.”

“Gathered that,” he said softly. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Care to educate me?”

She exhaled deeply. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Where the pain is,” he answered.

The notion was so simple. It unlocked a cage deep inside of Dana where she buried her wounds.

Suddenly unleashed, words began spilling out of her.

“Claire. She was my intern. But more than that, she was my friend. Almost a sister, or maybe daughter, given our age difference. I don’t know.

It’s not important. None of it is. Because it was all a lie.

She wasn’t who I thought she was, and I was so caught up in my own problems that I missed it.

I missed it, and my mistake cost people their lives. ”

Dana crossed the few paces to where she’d left her beer and drained it. She set it back down wishing it was something stronger. But as the moonlight danced across the scar on her palm, she felt another pang of guilt.

Jake. Bourbon. Blood. Bedrooms.

It was always like that with them.

The good with the bad. Sour with sweet.

Why is there always a price?

Marjorie’s words drifted back to her. Don’t fight the darkness. It gives way to light.

What did it mean that Dana only saw light when she looked at George?

Lately her own reflection held nothing but darkness. The all-consuming kind that fed on swallowing light and everything it touched.

“It’s a heavy burden to bear,” George said, interrupting Dana’s spiraling thoughts. “Knowing you’re not alone helps. ”

She met his gaze, drawn in by the way the streetlights made his eyes glow like whiskey in firelight. She recognized his pain. It was distant compared to hers, like an echo more than a scar, and it made her want to know more.

As if sensing her need, George spoke. “My first tour was Benghazi. It’s where I met Shepard.

He was my CO. Total hard ass. Lived to push us past the brink.

” George paused, shaking his head at some distant memory.

“It pains me to say without a doubt, I wouldn’t be drawing breath if it wasn’t for Jake Shepard. ”

Dana watched the distance expand between them as George revisited the horrors of war that Dana couldn’t begin to imagine.

“After Gaddafi fell, you could just feel the power grab coming. The air was electrified with militant tension. There were military grade weapons freely available on every street corner. Libya was a ticking timebomb, and Benghazi was the fuse.

“None of us wanted that station. Not when our only job was glorified security guards. We wanted to follow the fight, liberate the compounds. Instead, we were playing bodyguards to a bunch of paper pushing bureaucrats taking their sweet ass time with the burn bags.

“But Shepard didn’t take any flak. Orders were orders. He was there to see we carried them out.” George’s gaze hardened, his voice full of remorse when he spoke again. “If I’d helped him more instead of fighting him every step of the way, there would’ve been a lot less bloodshed.”

Again, Dana watched the pain dance across the distance clouding George’s gaze.

The light in his amber eyes dimmed. “Shepard saw it coming. He didn’t miss a thing when it came to the locals.

We were more laxed. Tried to win ‘em over.

Thought if we traded with ‘em, made ‘em feel safe, they’d have our backs.” George exhaled a bitter laugh.

“It makes sense now, the way Shepard is. The things we saw, they make you hard. And that hardness keeps you alive.”

“What happened?” Dana asked.

“Local boy we were friendly with wanted to trade some ammunition he’d scavenged for candy.

It was a common arrangement we had with a few of the local kids.

Stick a gum for bullets. Snickers for intel.

Shepard shit a brick every time he saw one of ‘em coming up to camp. Ran ‘em out of there with gunfire so they were too scared to come back. But this one brave little shit was never afraid. We felt bad for him, ya know? Kid was an IED vic. Missing half his arm, face all scared up, but he had that ‘ain’t nothing gonna stop me’ attitude you can’t help but root for. ”

Dana’s stomach began to knot as she sensed the direction George’s story was headed.

“Turns out Shepard was right. He’d been in country longer.

He told us not to trust the locals for a reason.

That little shit walked right up into our camp and detonated an IED he’d strapped to himself.

Took out half our squad, injured the other half.

I can still smell the burning flesh. The way Shepard’s chest was torn open, flesh all blistered and smoldering.

But he was the only one left to hold off the militants till air coverage arrived. ”

Dana’s eyes closed, her mind filling with memories of her own. Jake’s chest, her fingers tracing his scars …

“Even then, we were just as likely to get taken out by friendly fire from our own air strike. But Shepard was prepared for that. Called in the coordinates a few degrees off for the first strike to divert the attack and give himself enough time to drag us to safety.”

George’s eyes misted with remorse for a moment before he steeled himself, his gaze filling with conviction.

“Jake Shepard saved my life, Dana. I have no delusions about that. He picked me up out of that godforsaken blood-soaked sandpit and carried me on his back to safety. It’s why I won’t cross any lines here,” he said, tracing her jaw with his thumb.

“I’m not sure there’s anything left to cross,” she admitted.

George leaned in, his lips a whisper away from hers. “I’d like it better if you were certain.”

She held his gaze, knowing and hating that he was right. Since she didn’t have an answer, she gave an excuse. “It’s late.”

“Do you have a curfew? ”

“No, but I do have a conscience, and a boss who loves making me look bad.”

“Want me to occupy him? The threat of unpaid parking tickets in Nawlins is more persuasive than you might think,” he teased.

Dana laughed. “As much pleasure as that thought brings me, I don’t want the start of whatever this is to have anything to do with Taurant.”

“Whatever this is?” George hedged, moving in closer. He let his arms encircle Dana’s waist. “Are you saying you want this to be something?”

“I’m not sure.”

George rocked back on his heels. “Okay. Tell you what, why don’t we take it slow? We don’t have to have it all figured out. We can just have some harmless fun.”

If it were anyone else, Dana would’ve been put off by his forwardness, but she was strangely comfortable with George.

Especially after he’d just bared such a difficult experience.

Besides, it was a little late to start being cautious.

She’d already followed him into a murder investigation and his family’s Voodoo ceremony.

From the beginning, she knew they were kindred spirits. Like her, George was probably more comfortable at a crime scene than navigating his personal life.

Still, he seemed undeterred when he spoke. “Look, this doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m just saying I like the way this feels.” He let his hand slide beyond her waist, pulling her closer, but still leaving the next move to her.