Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,7
had never reconnected. And now we weren’t even friends. I needed to be better at communicating with whoever I slept with next, and maybe they would end up hanging around. Not that this was burning a hole in my life, but finding someone to hang out with who didn’t get on my nerves would be welcome. Or maybe I just needed to get laid.
I was still thinking about it when Ella Guzman showed up a half hour later, looking like she belonged on a runway somewhere. Stunning woman, all glowing deep bronze skin and long, thick mahogany-brown hair. I was surprised when she came to hug me like we were old friends the moment she saw me.
“If I get this job, I need you to help me find a place to live.”
“Sure,” I agreed, bemused, surprising myself. I had enjoyed talking to her at the wedding; helping her find an apartment sounded pretty good.
I had her take a seat in Jared’s office. It was baffling to me how she had ever worked undercover for the DEA, looking like she did. Agents were supposed to be interchangeable, forgettable, but even her smile was dazzling. She was the absolute opposite of just another face in the crowd.
Knocking on the conference room door, I waited until I heard my boss call out. Opening it a crack, I leaned in to speak to Jared, ignoring everyone else.
“Sorry to pull you out, but your other appointment is here.”
“Great, thank you,” he replied, staring at me, which was a bit unnerving.
“Okay,” I said, squinting at him, leaning back out.
“Mr. Barnes.”
Stopping, I turned to look at Mr. Cox.
“How did you know that I was feeling guilty about not doing more for Nick?”
“I just kind of caught it in your voice when we were talking,” I explained with a shrug. “And listen, I’m sorry I was a prick earlier.” His eyes got big, and I winced because yeah, me and the lack of filter, not always great for client interaction and protocol and all that. It was why I wasn’t a cop anymore. Speaking your mind, truthfully, in different situations to people higher up the food chain, could get one into quite a bit of trouble. Plus, me and protocol, that had always been a ticking time bomb. “I just—I think we all sorta forget to check in with people, and I’m as crappy about it as the next guy. So yeah, I’m sorry if I came off all holier than thou.”
His lips parted as he stared at me.
“I gotta be better about knowing when to shut the hell up.”
He nodded slowly. “Everyone does.”
I grinned at him. “Agreed,” I said, and then went to duck back out of the room.
“Mr. Barnes,” he called, stopping me as he stood up, buttoned his suit jacket and shot the cuffs of his dress shirt before straightening his tie. “Please stay.”
I glanced at Jared and then back at Cox. “Sir?”
Cox turned back to my boss. “I’m going to need him to go home and pack a bag, because he’s the one I want in Santa Barbara with Nick Madison.”
“Wait,” I ordered.
“And why is that?” Jared asked, standing as well.
“I need someone observant and able to read people, someone confrontational and combative who won’t back down, but also someone who, after a bit of time and consideration, can see compromise.”
“Wait,” I repeated.
“The rest of your men, including Mr. James here, seem terribly qualified, but Mr. Barnes is a wrecking ball, and that’s what I need.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”
Jared chuckled and nodded, and I turned back to Cox.
“Are you angry, Mr. Barnes?” he baited me.
“I’m not fuckin’ happy,” I growled at him, not even caring that I swore.
“Good,” he said, smiling at me. “Go take it out on Nick Madison.”
“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” I told Jared.
“You’re going to California,” he said, grinning at me. “That’s what’s going on.”
“But I have the thing with Cooper and the wannabe mobster––”
“I’ll take over for you.”
“Yeah, but––”
“It’s fine,” Jared assured me, and that was the end of that.
Shaw’s shit-eating grin was just the cherry on the cake of my day.
Two
Ella got the job, of course, and since I had to leave, she was staying in my place, feeding my fish until I got back.
“I will make sure your babies are all alive and kicking when you return in six months,” she said cheerfully, having made herself right at home in my cozy apartment.
“Four months,” I corrected her gruffly. “Probably less.”
She