negotiated this arrangement, and you’d have to tell them she ran from me!”
“Elle, maybe because she’s one of them.”
“She isn’t.”
“You’re going to get your heart broken, as well as your license to practice law pulled by the Bar. You’ve always been on the edge, but I think you’ve really gone over now.”
“At least I’m willing to take risks to help people!”
“That’s not fair, Gabrielle,” Dwight said.
Patrick had to step up. This was getting them nowhere. “Maybe you should leave,” he said.
“Just because you’re sleeping with my ex-wife doesn’t mean I’m the one who should leave, buddy. Is this your idea? Putting Elle at risk? Waving a gun around like you’re some sort of macho soldier?”
“Like I would let anyone tell me what to do,” Elle snapped.
“Knock it off, both of you,” Patrick said. “This isn’t helping. Kami is in trouble, and if you can’t help us, Dwight, then you need to leave.”
Dwight stared at him. “Which Kincaid are you? The mercenary? The doctor?”
Patrick was surprised that Elle had even talked about the Kincaid family with Dwight, since she’d already moved to San Francisco before she met and married him.
“I’m the former cop, current PI. I’m not here officially.” Though, Patrick thought, that might change if RCK decided that they had a better shot than law enforcement at taking down this human trafficking ring. “I’m here because I heard Elle needed help, and I was in the area.”
“Made yourself right at home, too,” Dwight said.
“Oh, shit, Dwight, we’ve been divorced for five years.”
Elle and Dwight exchanged a look and Patrick wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Then, suddenly, Dwight said, “I’ll take off my prosecutor hat for five minutes. Tell me what you have.”
Patrick didn’t know if they could trust Dwight. It wasn’t that he was part of any conspiracy, but he was an officer of the court, and legal people took that oath seriously. His former brother-in-law was the district attorney of San Diego, and he was Mr. Law and Order if there ever was one. He’d never go off book for any operation, even for five minutes. There were police investigations where he might take a judicious water cooler break just so he wouldn’t know about certain details, but beyond that, he wouldn’t have risked his career—or a conviction.
Dwight seemed sincere and worried about Elle. And he was clearly still in love with her. Patrick had walked into the middle of something.
Elle looked at Patrick and said, “It’s up to you.”
“I’m not the one risking my career.”
“I trust him,” Elle said.
“You also trust Clark Grayson.”
Her face reddened and she said, “I told you Clark is fine. Do what you want. I’m taking a shower.”
She went upstairs.
Dwight stared at Patrick. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“What?” Patrick snapped. He ran a hand over his face and helped himself to coffee. It was strong, which he needed. He hadn’t wanted to piss off Elle, but she had to see the truth before she was hurt by it.
“I never liked Clark,” Dwight said. “But he and Elle have been friends since college, before I even met her, and he was always off-limits.”
“She’s going to be devastated when she finds out he’s one of the bad guys.” Patrick wished he wasn’t going to be the one to prove it to her, because she would hate him for it. But what was he even thinking about? If she hated him, that was life. He lived in D.C., she lived in San Francisco, and last night notwithstanding, they didn’t have a future.
For some reason, that realization made him angry. He’d never been an angry person, even after his nephew had been killed when Patrick was in college. It was the attack on Lucy—watching it online, unable to stop it—that had affected him in ways he hadn’t been able to process at the time. Only a day later, he’d nearly died in an explosion, and then after brain surgery,
“Elle, maybe because she’s one of them.”
“She isn’t.”
“You’re going to get your heart broken, as well as your license to practice law pulled by the Bar. You’ve always been on the edge, but I think you’ve really gone over now.”
“At least I’m willing to take risks to help people!”
“That’s not fair, Gabrielle,” Dwight said.
Patrick had to step up. This was getting them nowhere. “Maybe you should leave,” he said.
“Just because you’re sleeping with my ex-wife doesn’t mean I’m the one who should leave, buddy. Is this your idea? Putting Elle at risk? Waving a gun around like you’re some sort of macho soldier?”
“Like I would let anyone tell me what to do,” Elle snapped.
“Knock it off, both of you,” Patrick said. “This isn’t helping. Kami is in trouble, and if you can’t help us, Dwight, then you need to leave.”
Dwight stared at him. “Which Kincaid are you? The mercenary? The doctor?”
Patrick was surprised that Elle had even talked about the Kincaid family with Dwight, since she’d already moved to San Francisco before she met and married him.
“I’m the former cop, current PI. I’m not here officially.” Though, Patrick thought, that might change if RCK decided that they had a better shot than law enforcement at taking down this human trafficking ring. “I’m here because I heard Elle needed help, and I was in the area.”
“Made yourself right at home, too,” Dwight said.
“Oh, shit, Dwight, we’ve been divorced for five years.”
Elle and Dwight exchanged a look and Patrick wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Then, suddenly, Dwight said, “I’ll take off my prosecutor hat for five minutes. Tell me what you have.”
Patrick didn’t know if they could trust Dwight. It wasn’t that he was part of any conspiracy, but he was an officer of the court, and legal people took that oath seriously. His former brother-in-law was the district attorney of San Diego, and he was Mr. Law and Order if there ever was one. He’d never go off book for any operation, even for five minutes. There were police investigations where he might take a judicious water cooler break just so he wouldn’t know about certain details, but beyond that, he wouldn’t have risked his career—or a conviction.
Dwight seemed sincere and worried about Elle. And he was clearly still in love with her. Patrick had walked into the middle of something.
Elle looked at Patrick and said, “It’s up to you.”
“I’m not the one risking my career.”
“I trust him,” Elle said.
“You also trust Clark Grayson.”
Her face reddened and she said, “I told you Clark is fine. Do what you want. I’m taking a shower.”
She went upstairs.
Dwight stared at Patrick. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“What?” Patrick snapped. He ran a hand over his face and helped himself to coffee. It was strong, which he needed. He hadn’t wanted to piss off Elle, but she had to see the truth before she was hurt by it.
“I never liked Clark,” Dwight said. “But he and Elle have been friends since college, before I even met her, and he was always off-limits.”
“She’s going to be devastated when she finds out he’s one of the bad guys.” Patrick wished he wasn’t going to be the one to prove it to her, because she would hate him for it. But what was he even thinking about? If she hated him, that was life. He lived in D.C., she lived in San Francisco, and last night notwithstanding, they didn’t have a future.
For some reason, that realization made him angry. He’d never been an angry person, even after his nephew had been killed when Patrick was in college. It was the attack on Lucy—watching it online, unable to stop it—that had affected him in ways he hadn’t been able to process at the time. Only a day later, he’d nearly died in an explosion, and then after brain surgery,
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