He was just staring at her. Not even blinking. “I’m not speculating.”
“I keep my work life and my home life separate,” she said stiffly. “I’m somewhat defensive about my status,” she added, and averted her eyes.
“So you don’t draw attention to it.”
“Yes,” she said quickly, anxious for an answer that would shut him up.
“I get it.” He didn’t press her. But he was getting some very interesting vibrations running underneath the casual conversation. “Don’t worry about your boss,” he added gently. “He’s in great hands.”
She looked toward the glass cubicle, where Cammy Blackhawk was still smoothing her son’s hair and talking to him. “I noticed.”
“I meant the doctor,” he mused.
“Oh.”
“You don’t know about Cammy’s past, and I won’t tell it to you,” he said surprisingly. “But there’s a reason she’s the way she is. Try not to take her attitude too seriously.”
“She loves her son. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She does, but she’s micromanaging his life. Or she’s trying to.”
“She wants the best for him.” She pursed her lips and her blue eyes twinkled suddenly. “She wants him to have the best fashion advice money can buy.”
“He’d do a lot better with a woman who could play video games with him.”
“Don’t look at me,” Joceline said firmly. “I have one man in my life. I don’t need another.”
“Your son’s father went missing in action, you said.”
“Yes.”
“I still have contacts in active military circles,” he said, watching her with uncanny closeness. “I could have them do some checking.”
She dropped her purse. She bent and picked it up. “Sorry, it’s been an unsettling day,” she said. “I’m clumsy. No, thanks, it’s already been checked out. He disappeared in those mountains where they think the remnants of Al-Qaeda were hiding in a secret base. They were certain that he was killed, they just were reluctant to tell me.”
She hadn’t looked up once.
“I see,” he said.
She was hoping for an interruption when Winnie Sinclair came up with two cups of coffee. She handed one to her husband. “You’ve had a long day, you should go.”
“Yes,” Joceline said gratefully. “You’ll call me, if there’s any change?” she added worriedly.
“Of course we will,” Winnie assured her.
“The assistant D.A. asked about you,” Kilraven said. “She’s still hoping you might jump ship and go to work for her,” he added, teasing.
“There might be a real possibility of that,” Joceline said on a heavy sigh. “They’re talking about cutting staff in my office. Betty has seniority, so if one of us is cut, it will be me.” She shook her head. “This has been a bummer of a day.”
Kilraven frowned. “They’d never let you go.”
She smiled sadly. “They’ll let anybody go, if they have to. I don’t have any illusions about being the best administrative assistant on earth.” She sighed. “Now I have to worry about that and my boss, and my son …”
“Not about Markie,” Kilraven assured her. “Rourke will make sure no harm comes to him. Or to you.”
Joceline ground her teeth together. “Okay.”
“And Jon will be all right,” he added.
She bit her lip. “He had blood on his mouth.”
“Joceline, he was shot in a lung,” he reminded her. “He would have been spitting up blood when they found him. Thank God he was in sight of a main street when it happened!”
“Yes,” she whispered, hurting as she considered how frightening and how painful it would have been, to have experienced what her boss had—to be shot in the back.
“Now go home to your son,” Winnie said gently. “He will keep you from brooding too much.”
“The chief brooder is in there.” She indicated the cubicle where Cammy was still sitting with Jon. “He does it much better than I do.”
“He’ll be fine. Just keep the office together until he recovers,” Kilraven told her.
She smiled. That was optimistic. She had to be optimistic, too. “Okay. Do you know any really good defense attorneys, by the way?”
Kilraven blinked. “Not really, but I can ask around. Why do you need one?”
“I don’t, yet. As long as Rourke stays out of sight.”
Kilraven chuckled. “He is a piece of work, isn’t he?”
“Saved your butt, my darling,” Winnie reminded him with a hug.
He returned it and kissed her hair. “Yes, but he was being obnoxious.”
“It’s what he does best.”
“He’ll keep Markie safe,” Kilraven reminded Joceline. “He’s good at what he does.”
“Which would be what, exactly, when he isn’t returning favors for you?” Joceline asked curiously.
“Never you mind,” he said firmly. “That’s need to know, and you don’t.”
“Spoilsport.”
She smiled at both of them and sent one last, worried glance toward where Jon Blackhawk lay, so quiet and still, before she left the waiting room.
“Something’s fishy,” Kilraven murmured.
“About what?” Winnie asked.
