something animatedly but quietly, and she keeps looking over him, toward the door.
“What are you thinking?” Jason asks me quietly, following my line of sight.
I catch a glimpse of my flame-haired best friend as she leaves the bathroom and joins Drake and Gianna at the bar. “Nothing. Not really,” I half lie.
Technically, I’m not thinking. I’m feeling—and I’m not feeling good.
My stomach is tight, like it’s waiting for a bomb to drop somewhere, and my heart thumps erratically and loud three times. It feels like…a warning.
“Then what are you feeling?”
“How do you know I’m feeling anything?” I bring my glass to my lips and drink.
“Like you, I’m trained. I also watched you a lot during the case with Eddie. You get a look in your eye when you’re feeling something you don’t want to feel.”
“I just feel…unsettled,” I admit.
God, it feels so good to have said those words out loud. The tightness in my stomach recedes until it’s bearable once more.
“Yeah,” Jason says quietly, turning back to me. “Me too.”
I f I learned anything during my time in Dallas before it all went tits-down-ass-up kinda fucked, it’s that an unsettled FBI agent is a dangerous creature. Not because he’s liable to shoot your ass, but because it usually means my already-tight gut feeling is probably correct.
Naturally, that means I’ve been at my wits’ end for the last hour, and Nonna hasn’t even arrived yet.
If I got all dressed up and she doesn’t show, it’s gonna go down tomorrow morning.
On the brighter side, it looks like Bek and Jason’s date is going well. They’ve been chatting at the bar for a while now, and the last time I saw her laugh this much was when she explained the “bibbity, bobbity bullshit” Tinder conversation. My nephew is running around, waving his lightsaber with enthusiastic whooshes in front of anyone who won’t mind—and those who will—and Aria has slinked off with her friends.
Ahh, to be a tween. I wish I could slink off with my phone and simply have everyone roll their eyes behind my back without yelling at me. I’d probably have to take less headache pills. And I’d retain my sanity for a little longer.
Like, a day longer. But a day is a day.
I have a horrible habit of people-watching at parties like this. My whole family insists it’s because I’m an ex-cop and now a private investigator. They’re wrong. It’s because I’m nosy. That’s literally the only reason.
Watching people when they’re at their most relaxed is the best. Like…the guy by the bar dressed as Dracula? I’m pretty sure the woman next to him is his wife, but he has a roving eye whenever someone wearing a dress that hits above their knee walks past. I might slip my card in his wife’s purse later tonight…
And…hmm… The pair of teenagers in the corner, sipping what looks like Coke? Yeah. There’s a little vodka in that.
Why else would they be pouring a clear liquid from a water bottle into a glass of Coca-Cola?
Oldest trick in the book. Idiots.
“Who are you spying on?” Gianna slinks up behind me.
I jump and put my hand to my chest. “You scared me. And nobody. Everybody.”
“Just like Drake,” she muses, smiling. “Always watching.”
“I’m nosy.” I shrug and finish my drink. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Probably making sure nobody is drinking illegally like the kids in the corner he’s walked past three times.”
I look down, my shoulders shaking with silent giggles. Yeah… “Ah. Well, that explains everything perfectly.”
Her lips twitch a little as her eyes leave me. They travel across the room, much the way mine just did, and she slowly raises her glass of red wine to her lips. Her gaze flits back and forth, and she just feels…strange. As though she’s waiting for something she shouldn’t be.
I’m going crazy.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly. “You don’t seem yourself tonight.”
“I’m fine.” She forces a
“What are you thinking?” Jason asks me quietly, following my line of sight.
I catch a glimpse of my flame-haired best friend as she leaves the bathroom and joins Drake and Gianna at the bar. “Nothing. Not really,” I half lie.
Technically, I’m not thinking. I’m feeling—and I’m not feeling good.
My stomach is tight, like it’s waiting for a bomb to drop somewhere, and my heart thumps erratically and loud three times. It feels like…a warning.
“Then what are you feeling?”
“How do you know I’m feeling anything?” I bring my glass to my lips and drink.
“Like you, I’m trained. I also watched you a lot during the case with Eddie. You get a look in your eye when you’re feeling something you don’t want to feel.”
“I just feel…unsettled,” I admit.
God, it feels so good to have said those words out loud. The tightness in my stomach recedes until it’s bearable once more.
“Yeah,” Jason says quietly, turning back to me. “Me too.”
I f I learned anything during my time in Dallas before it all went tits-down-ass-up kinda fucked, it’s that an unsettled FBI agent is a dangerous creature. Not because he’s liable to shoot your ass, but because it usually means my already-tight gut feeling is probably correct.
Naturally, that means I’ve been at my wits’ end for the last hour, and Nonna hasn’t even arrived yet.
If I got all dressed up and she doesn’t show, it’s gonna go down tomorrow morning.
On the brighter side, it looks like Bek and Jason’s date is going well. They’ve been chatting at the bar for a while now, and the last time I saw her laugh this much was when she explained the “bibbity, bobbity bullshit” Tinder conversation. My nephew is running around, waving his lightsaber with enthusiastic whooshes in front of anyone who won’t mind—and those who will—and Aria has slinked off with her friends.
Ahh, to be a tween. I wish I could slink off with my phone and simply have everyone roll their eyes behind my back without yelling at me. I’d probably have to take less headache pills. And I’d retain my sanity for a little longer.
Like, a day longer. But a day is a day.
I have a horrible habit of people-watching at parties like this. My whole family insists it’s because I’m an ex-cop and now a private investigator. They’re wrong. It’s because I’m nosy. That’s literally the only reason.
Watching people when they’re at their most relaxed is the best. Like…the guy by the bar dressed as Dracula? I’m pretty sure the woman next to him is his wife, but he has a roving eye whenever someone wearing a dress that hits above their knee walks past. I might slip my card in his wife’s purse later tonight…
And…hmm… The pair of teenagers in the corner, sipping what looks like Coke? Yeah. There’s a little vodka in that.
Why else would they be pouring a clear liquid from a water bottle into a glass of Coca-Cola?
Oldest trick in the book. Idiots.
“Who are you spying on?” Gianna slinks up behind me.
I jump and put my hand to my chest. “You scared me. And nobody. Everybody.”
“Just like Drake,” she muses, smiling. “Always watching.”
“I’m nosy.” I shrug and finish my drink. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Probably making sure nobody is drinking illegally like the kids in the corner he’s walked past three times.”
I look down, my shoulders shaking with silent giggles. Yeah… “Ah. Well, that explains everything perfectly.”
Her lips twitch a little as her eyes leave me. They travel across the room, much the way mine just did, and she slowly raises her glass of red wine to her lips. Her gaze flits back and forth, and she just feels…strange. As though she’s waiting for something she shouldn’t be.
I’m going crazy.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly. “You don’t seem yourself tonight.”
“I’m fine.” She forces a
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