Three Libras - BLACKBIRD book 4

6. hallway

Brock took Andrea home and was back to the Hoover Building in under an hour. Cassidy texted him to meet Gillian at the third floor and check how things were going with Garret, because their meeting was taking too long.

He strode out of the elevator and around the bend. Gillian was there, alone by the windows, phone to her ear and coffee mug in hand. She heard the approaching footsteps and turned her back to him, lowering her head. So Brock stopped a couple of yards away, to give her room. There was nobody else in the hallway, and the door to Garret's office remained closed.

"I'll call you, sir," said Gillian then. "Have a nice day and thanks again for taking my call."

Brock scowled at her words. Who was she talking to? She disconnected and turned to him. Her smile was tight, forced, as he came to her side.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrows. "They cannot make it in time," she replied. Her eyes slid back to the window.

"How long?"

"Another twenty-four hours. At least."

Brock stood by her, looking out as well, at the buildings and the avenue below them. "We cannot arrest the receivers."

"But we need to have them in custody, to prevent them from tipping off the Ghost." She huffed, annoyed, and killed her coffee. "We need to think it all over."

Brock studied her, feeling again that bugging sensation that something was off. He waited for her to face him. "Everything okay, Gillian?" he repeated, lowering his voice.

Gillian held his green eyes, bright and clear in the sunlight coming in through the window. Why did it have to happen now? Why would anybody play to be the Libra? Why in Boston of all places, and when he was stationed there? She compared his face with her recollections of him. The gentle touch of the years. And the cruel trace of grief hardening his features, erasing any hint of joy from his once bright gaze. She felt the hurt of his loss as some kind of personal insult. There was nothing she could do to make it up to him. But she'll do anything to keep any crazy bastard from reopening his wounds.

He noticed a wet spark in her eyes as she stared at him in an odd silence. His hand didn't ask for permission to come up to her arm and press it softly, as his scowl deepened.

"It's alright, Gillian," he whispered. "No matter what it is, you know you can tell me about it."

No, I can't, stupid caring man! She set her jaw to keep her mouth shut, and her hand rested on his. She didn't fight a smile—she was too busy fighting her impulse to let her fingers slide over his skin.

"Maybe later," she said. "When this is over." Lying to him made her squirm inside, but admitting she was not quite alright would be enough to appease him. For a while.

"Agent Gillian?"

Garret's voice echoed over the quiet hall, like her clicking high heels when she came closer. Their hands moved away from each other at the speed of light as they turned to her. Garret kept talking as she approached them.

"We can make it thirty-six hours instead of forty, but that's the best we can do." Then she recognized Brock and flashed a bright smile at him. "Brock! It's been a while!"

He greeted her with a curt nod. "Garret."

"How are you? Are you back in DC?

"Only for this case."

Gillian noticed Garret was no longer interested in whatever she had to say about the thirty-six hours. And felt the heat climbing up her neck to her face when Garret casually rested her hand on Brock's arm. So she excused herself and left them to head to Garret's office.

She still heard the woman say, "We should get together before you leave again. Go for a drink with the boys, like back in the old days."

If Brock replied, Gillian couldn't hear him. She strode into Garret's office, breathing deep. There she found Tanya, Connor and Kurt talking with Garret's men like they were old friends. Great! Let's keep fraternizing!

"Lads?" she called.

Tanya turned to her right away. "Reg, thirty-six hours, no way around it."

"You sure you can have it ready by Tuesday morning?"

"Positive."

"Then do it."

Connor came to her by the door, bright eyes and amazed smile. "Jeez, Mom, best birthday ever! This is Disneyland! I so wanna work here."

She put the empty mug in his hand. "Get your MIT degree and you're on."

"Hell yeah."

"Lads, I'm going back upstairs. Keep me up."

"Yes, ma'am," said Kurt.

"Connor, son, kill'im."

"Yes, Mom!"

That little tease helped Gillian to wore a cool face to go back to Brock and Garret. And she didn't need to force a smile when she found Garret on the phone near the staff kitchen, and Brock right where she'd left him, hands in his pockets and face to the windows, looking out. She didn't notice she'd slowed down at seeing him stand there, so still in the sun. She would've liked to take a picture of him like that, so her eyes stayed on him as she came closer, to store that image in her memory.

Brock heard her come. He met her eyes and noticed the warm, gentle smile she quickly replaced with a more casual one. She was in such a strange mood, her emotions trying to breach her control and show all the time. And it was so odd, because she was always so careful to keep them locked down and in check. By now he was almost positive that whatever was off, it troubled her not sharing it with him. But now, the way she was just looking at him, made him tilt his head and narrow his eyes, his thin lips pursed at the brink of a curious smile.

Which made Gillian swallow and glance down. Don't give me that look, stupid man. It's just too cute and I don't wanna kiss you in front of your friend.

"We better go back to the sixth floor," she said. And help me God if you don't scowl on our way up.

He only nodded, still studying her. When they walked past the kitchen door, Garret turned to them, still on the phone. Gillian was forced to nod at her, and couldn't miss the woman's eyes addressed her smile only to Brock.