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***
Witnessing an uncomfortable situation in a bar or hotel wasn’t uncommon. AJ had experience in both, especially bars inside hotels, as they were popular for meetings and politicking in Washington D.C. As for uncomfortable situations, he was a lawyer and saw more than he’d prefer, especially now in private practice. His previous uniform and rank of admiral had insulated him from plenty of uncomfortable interpersonal situations. Though, there had been a lot more ass-kissing and political bullshit. Not that private law was bereft of either.
Still, it wasn’t the first discreet public fight he’d witnessed in a hotel bar. This particular one — the bar, not the fight — was well-appointed and laid out for privacy rather than being seen, making it popular with clients. It was why AJ had stayed after his meeting for a drink. The general social protocol dictated everyone ignored the situation until it was resolved, or those involved removed themselves, or the staff did so for them.
But AJ recognized one of the two people involved. Antonia DiNozzo, an agent with NCIS — or at least, she had been when he’d retired from JAG and the Navy two years ago. He’d heard her testimony in court, read her case reports, and, on one memorable occasion, watched her interrogate his officers on suspicion of murdering another.
You could take the man out of uniform, but you couldn’t take the navy out of the man. And AJ was a SEAL, so he focused on his drink, pretended to ignore the tense conversation and listened. Just in case the Navy cop needed a little backup.
DiNozzo was at a two-top, one of the more exposed tables in the room, without the shielding of high-backed booths like the one AJ was seated at. The other occupant was an older man in an expensive suit, wearing an ostentatious watch that flashed in the low light as he gestured grandly, as did his cufflinks. His silk tie was held in place with a gold and diamond tie pin, and his white hair was carefully styled. One of the waitstaff appeared and replaced his empty glass with a fresh one containing a full measure of dark amber liquid.
Next to him, DiNozzo was dressed simply in a black evening suit. The wide-legged pants had a silky stripe down the side, which matched the jacket's lapels. She wore simple gold hoops and several thin gold chains, one of which hung low enough to highlight the vee of her jacket and the hint of lace there. She wore no rings, just a delicate gold watch, with her hair falling around her face in waves.
She utterly outshone her companion, effortlessly, in a demonstration of class over flash.
The disparity between them wasn’t the source of awkwardness. DiNozzo looked tense, wary. The man didn’t, which was unusual enough, but he also hardly paid attention to her. That was baffling because AJ had never seen DiNozzo walk into a room and not draw attention. Instead, the man cased the bar in a way AJ recognized as looking for anyone important, wanting to see and be seen. A man looking for a connection, a chance to schmooze, a mark.
If not for the low-toned argument he could overhear, AJ might have suspected DiNozzo was undercover. But he’d once watched her sweet-talk a Navy Lieutenant Commander with a law degree into confessing to the murder of his pregnant mistress. None of that persuasion was present now — she looked like an angry woman trapped in an awkward encounter. So AJ listened because if she needed backup, he’d like to offer it. And because he was a nosy sonofabitch.
Sue him. He was a lawyer.
It didn’t take long to learn how the land lay, and AJ knew he might need to stage an extraction. It might have been better if DiNozzo had been undercover. After all, nothing hurts you like family.
***
Nina swallowed her temper as her father laid out the real reason he’d dropped back into her life and city, disrupting her peace and breaking open the mental box in which she kept him and her feelings about him tucked away. As she’d expected, it was entirely self-serving. The only really surprising part was that it was only barely legal. On the other hand, it wasn’t like Anthony DiNozzo cared for inconveniences like the law when it came to making money. Or that he’d remember, or care, that his daughter was in law enforcement while he was working his latest scheme. One he expected to finance with her money.
Oh, to be as oblivious to consequences as a wealthy white man in America.
“No.”
He clicked his tongue and finally looked at her rather than the pair of well-dressed women at the bar. “Now, Toni —”
“Don’t call me that,” she said. “I’ve heard you use that exact tone on every business partner, ‘investor,’ and future ex-Mrs DiNozzo I’ve met. Give me a little credit, as your daughter if not as a cop, to be able to see through a grift.”
“That’s no way to speak to your father,” he scolded. His tone was light even as the colour in his face rose.
“You aren’t much of a father, so it shouldn’t be a surprise I’m not much of a daughter.”
He set his glass — McCallen 18, three fingers, on the rocks — down with a sharp click. Nina didn’t flinch. “You’re making a scene, Toni. DiNozzo’s don’t air their dirty laundry in public.”
She laughed. “If I were making a scene, I’d make a scene. DiNozzo’s go big or go home, remember? This isn’t me making a scene, just refusing to give in to your manipulations. Nothing is broken, and no one has called for a manager, security, or the police. Not yet, anyway.”
Her father sighed and looked around, making eye contact with a few less-than-discreet people watching the unfolding trainwreck that was Nina’s life. “You’ve always been dramatic,” he said. She gave him points for pitching his voice just enough, adding just enough exasperated affection to his tone. A put-upon father dealing with a loved but high-strung daughter. Two of the watchers, both men, went back to their meals.
She’d have played it similarly if she’d been undercover. People were so damned predictable.
“I wonder where I get it from,” she said.
“Dramatic and emotional,” he added, picking up his glass again. “This is about money, Toni, and emotions have no business in business. That’s why I offered to invest for you and manage your trust fund. You’re too emotional to be clear-eyed about financial opportunities.”
Nina could have choked on the sheer gall of the man. The next time someone called her shameless, she was going to laugh. “Is that the line you used on my mother while spending her money?”
“Your mother trusted me. She knew I wanted what was best for us, for her.” He shook his head and sighed. “Clare would be ashamed and heartbroken to see her only daughter be disrespectful and mistrusting of her father.”
“We’ll never know how she would feel about it, will we?” Nina said, smiling widely. “Since she mired herself in depression, vodka, valium, and misery while you ran around spending her money on one failed business opportunity after another, too focused on your next wasted dollar to see her dying by inches. Or too drunk to care when you did.”
The glass came down sharply again, but Nina didn’t care. The part of her that could still measure her father’s mood by the level of his glass was overshadowed by decades of grief and a lifetime of anger. And she wasn’t that child anymore.
“My mother is dead,” Nina continued, leaning forward. “And you haven’t changed. You just spend different women’s money these days. I might be foolish enough to hope you reached out this time for some reason other than a handout, but I refuse to be one of the women you con and steal from. And that is something I learned from my mother — her example, at least.”
He grabbed her wrist where she’d braced herself on the table. “Keep your voice down,” he ground out, still controlled despite the alcohol and his obvious temper. “And watch what you say, Antonia. A police officer should know to be careful of libel.”
“I didn’t say anything I can’t back up, with evidence if necessary.” She stared him down. “Let me make this very clear, without any dramatics. Take your hands off me, take my number out of your phone, and don’t contact me unless someone we both know is dying. You got the last penny you ever will from me when you defrauded my education fund and stole what my mother left me.”
She counted to three in her head and, when he still hadn’t released her, stood up and pulled free. If her chair made enough noise to draw attention, and if she knocked over her untouched wine glass, so it spilled over the table and his lap —
“Oops,” she said as he leapt to his feet. “Well, I am dramatic and emotional. Right, dad?”
With a dozen or more pairs of eyes on them and bar staff descending, Anthony DiNozzo had no choice but to control himself. His chest rose and fell several times. “Who’s going to pay for dry cleaning this suit, Toni? It costs more than you make at your public service job in a month.”
“You have no idea what I get paid, but I’m sure you’ll find another widow or divorcee to pay that bill. Don’t invite me to your future weddings — not that you have for the last few.” She grabbed her purse from the back of her chair. “And, again, don’t call me Toni. I’m not your damned knock-off.”
Her father squared his shoulders, only for a waiter to sweep in and begin wiping up the spilled wine, conveniently blocking her father’s path.
“Antonia —”
A hand cupped her elbow, turning her away from her father and his demands. Led her away from the latest scene of her dysfunctional history and out of the bar.
“Did you check a coat?” Admiral Chegwidden, retired, asked.
“Yes,” she said and swung towards the hostess’ desk.
The hostess said nothing but looked at her with dark, sympathetic eyes as she returned Nina’s coat. Those eyes blinked when Nina insisted on paying for the wine she hadn’t drunk and a tip.
“Ma’am, you don’t need to —”
“He’ll use the spill as an excuse not to pay. He might even try to leverage it into a discount on his hotel bill,” Nina explained. “That is if he doesn’t run out on the bill entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time, though he likes this hotel and usually wouldn’t risk being banned. But he’s not above burning bridges when angry, and being embarrassed makes him vindictive.”
The hostess frowned. “I understand. I’ll pass that along.” She bit her lip. “Have a better night,” she offered.
“I don’t have to deal with him, so it’s already looking up.”
Chegwidden said nothing until they stepped outside the hotel, and then he took her coat. “Here, let me,” he said, holding it open.
“An officer and a gentleman,” she said with brittle cheer, letting him slide the coat up her arms and over her shoulders.
“Former on one of the two,” he replied. “Are you driving?”
“Yes.” Nina studied him. He looked much the same as when she’d last seen him a couple of years ago. Chegwidden wore a suit instead of a uniform but carried himself the same. The biggest change was the beard he sported instead of the regulation clean shave. It suited him.
It was hard to tell if retirement had softened him or private law had hardened him, but he looked irate.
“Why?” she asked.
“You shouldn’t drive while upset,” Chegwidden said.
Nina smiled. “Do I look upset?”
He met her gaze. “Not particularly, at least at first glance. But you are. You’re just very good at hiding it.”
She blew out a breath. “Well, damn.” She tucked her hands in her coat pockets. “I should work on that.”
“Why? You’re certainly entitled to be upset. Angry. Hurt, for Christ’s sake.” He shook his head. “Everyone else is, on your behalf.”
“Then I hardly need to be, do I?”
“DiNozzo, that was your father.”
“Only when it suits him. And it only suits him when he wants or needs something, usually money. Otherwise, he’s a sperm donor.” She shrugged at his look. “It is what it is. I’d like a drink —”
“Well, you did spill your last one.”
She laughed. This time, it was genuine. “Worth it. Also, he’s an alcoholic, and so was my mother — you might have heard — and I know better than to drink in a temper.”
“Smart. That’s a bad road, well-trod by far too many in our careers.”
Nina had seen more than one cop or agent ruined by alcohol. Worse was when they ruined more than their own careers and lives. “Alcohol and guns are a bad combination,” she agreed. “I try not to drink when I want one the most — I’d rather make my own mistakes than repeat them.”
Chegwidden nodded, then touched her elbow to direct her down the sidewalk. “I know a place that has what you need.”
She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Admiral! How forward!” But she didn’t draw away from his guiding hand or stop walking.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m retired. Call me AJ.”
“Private law has been good for you,” she observed. “And made you forward.”
“Nothing new about me except a beard. And my colleagues don’t have to stand when I enter a room.”
She studied his straight back and upright stance. He might be draped in a crisp suit instead of a uniform, but he still looked every inch an officer. “I bet some of them want to,” she said. “And the beard is working, too,” she added.
Chegwidden — AJ — smirked. “You think?”
“Oh, definitely.” Nina laughed and slipped her arm through his. He changed position so her hand rested comfortably in the bend of his elbow. The action brought them closer, but that was completely coincidental and not Nina’s intention.
There was a bridge for sale on the Potomac, too.
AJ laid his hand over hers. “Good to know,” he said like he hadn’t already known — or been told — how attractive he looked with a beard. “How’s NCIS?”
“Tired of talking about your silver fox status, are you? Busy, as always,” she continued before he could argue. “Too much paperwork, too many personalities. But I haven’t had to arrest any serving JAG officers lately, so that’s a plus.”
“I’m sure Rabb is relieved.”
“He’s some other NCIS office’s problem these days, thank goodness. And some other admiral’s headache.”
“I go through far fewer antacids and ibuprofen these days,” AJ agreed. “Conversely, I can’t refuse to give people permission to speak freely.”
Nina wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that sucks. The chain of command has benefits when you are at the top of that chain. Speaking of the top link in the command chain, rumour is a new director might be taking the big chair soon.”
“Oh? I thought Morrow was pretty well entrenched there.”
“Looks like he might be making a move to Homeland. Makes sense; a new agency with a broad scope needs people with experience to fill out the ranks, and Morrow is known for bringing NCIS up from the old NIS days into the big leagues.” Nina shrugged. “But that’s just a rumour, and rumours are unreliable.”
AJ hummed and turned down a side street into one of the neighbourhood pockets of small businesses and trendy eateries that populated the city. “Not a rumour I’ve heard. Sounds more like unconfirmed intel than gossip.”
“Are you implying I gather intel on my superiors and the alphabet soup of DC?”
“Yes, because you’re smart and work in that alphabet soup.”
Nina considered playing up her outrage, but he looked too amused for the act to be worth the effort. “You aren’t wrong,” she conceded. “I’m considering my options, including making a move of my own.” At his questioning look, she explained. “The head sets the tone. Morrow set a good one, but I’ve seen the feel of a precinct change with a change of command. I can’t imagine an agency this size being any different. Who knows what someone else will do in command? Like with JAG —”
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing bad; JAG is still moving along. But the tone is different,” she explained. “Still professional, but different. Leadership changes, officers change postings and the tone changes.”
AJ nodded. “How are the new people doing?” he asked casually.
It was a good act, but Nina was better than most at reading people. Nothing like long-term undercover work and a dysfunctional childhood to make a girl hypervigilant.
“Fine,” she reassured him. “The new JAG doesn’t have your sense of humour, though.”
“Well, he is a marine.”
Nina laughed. “You aren’t wrong about that.”
“Most people would say I don’t have a sense of humour.” He raised an eyebrow and stopped in front of a storefront.
“Yeah, but most people don’t pay attention,” Nina said absently as she looked inside.
It wasn’t a bar or even a coffee shop. Those would have been expected. But not even Nina, who dedicated herself to being unpredictable, would have expected AJ Chegwidden, retired Judge Advocate General, to bring her to an ice cream parlour.
The sign proclaimed more than fifty flavours and the best ice cream sundaes in the city. Nina considered that and remembered that rumours stated Chegwidden was divorced and had a daughter in Italy.
“What if I’m lactose intolerant?” Nina asked.
AJ had been watching her with a surprised look but answered right away. “They have dairy-free options and frozen yogurt. They also have six kinds of chocolate.” He shrugged. “As you said, sometimes a drink is the last thing you need.”
“Okay, you get all the points. Let’s get ice cream.”
Nina got three scoops — she couldn’t decide between flavours and went with all of them — and AJ insisted on paying. Because, of course, he did.
“Big spender,” she teased. “It’s that private practice money.”
AJ shrugged and accepted his change. “Ought to spend it on worthwhile things,” he said. All of the change went into the tip jar. Nina, who’d been a server through college and had ended several dates over men’s refusal to tip, approved.
“Chocolate ice cream is worthwhile?” She heard herself speak such blasphemy and clarified. “Chocolate ice cream you aren’t eating is worthwhile?”
He chuckled and took his own ice cream — two scoops, coffee and salted caramel in a waffle cup, not a bad choice —as well as hers. “A woman who needs chocolate ice cream,” he said and headed to a table.
The twenty-something girl behind the till watched him leave, then wiggled her brows at Nina.
She pointed the finger at the girl. “He’s too old for you and also taken,” she said in a low tone.
“Does he know that?”
“He will when I want him to,” Nina said. “Make your ice cream and mind your business. Find someone your age who buys you ice cream to make you feel better about your family trauma.” With one last finger shake, Nina followed the man.
She shrugged out her coat and took a seat with a huff. “You — have clearly been married. The only question is why you aren’t anymore. A man who knows to offer ice cream and an ear for a woman to vent over instead of trying to fix things is worth his weight in vintage designer clothing. Also, you have ruined that girl for a college boy’s idea of romance.”
“I’ll tell my ex-wife you said that,” AJ said. “Eat your ice cream.”
She ate her ice cream.
Once she’d tried each flavour — all amazing, and it was a good thing she hadn’t chosen between them — Nina propped her elbow on the table and studied him while licking her spoon clean. AJ looked up at her stare, then looked away. “Problem?”
She did not grin. But she did spoon up another bite and savour it slowly. “None but the obvious,” she replied as he looked straight into her eyes, not at her mouth. “Are you going to ask?” Nina popped the spoon in her mouth and drew it back out, slowly. Just to get any stray ice cream. And to watch his eyes glaze over a little.
“Nope,” he said, a touch sternly. Nina grinned, and he narrowed his eyes, then huffed. “None of my business.”
Since he’d caught on to her trick, she stopped her indecent performance with the spoon. “Pretty sure it became the business of everyone in that bar.” She shrugged and consoled herself with more Double Chocolate Fudge. “Bastard assumed I’d be more compliant in public to avoid embarrassment because he avoids it like the plague. But the joke’s on him because once you’ve played bait for johns on a Saturday night in Baltimore, a public scene doesn’t phase you.”
“Can’t say I’ve had that experience,” AJ said drily, “but I have gone through many a Fleet Week, including the joy of running hungover until you puke at an officer’s feet the next day.”
“Ouch,” she said.
“You bet.”
“Sounds like pledge week at college.”
“Only with more alcohol and less naked shenanigans.”
“The first is impressive, considering how many kegs are involved. The second is guaranteed since there are more naked asses on show during pledge week than in a strip club on an average Thursday. Trust me,” she added when he looked skeptical. “I’ve experienced both.”
“How do you know — never mind,” he said, shaking his head.
“That is definitely a story for alcohol, not ice cream,” she agreed. “It involved a small-time dealer with a sideline, a dead stripper, and so much glitter.”
It was a good story, too, but she rarely told it before the fifth date. Some men got weird when you told them you’d spent several weeks working as a stripper, even if it was undercover. And, while she had learned a lot of moves and could still manage most of them, Nina was of the opinion she was the one to decide if a man deserved a lapdance or a show.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” AJ said. “For next time. How often do you see him?”
Tempting as it was to divert the conversation down the path he’d opened up with the throw-away assumption of a next time, Nina answered the actual question. “When he wants something, and it’s been long enough since the last disappointment that I fall into the same trap.”
Huh. That had been a little more brutally honest than she’d intended.
“Something? Or money?”
“Usually,” Nina shrugged. “He always needs it, either to finance a scheme or cover his debts from the last one to fall through. Sometimes, he wants to play happy families to convince a mark. Sorry, I mean an investor or romantic interest,” she corrected drily. Her father didn’t consider himself a conman, but he lived like one. “Eighteen months ago, I was in the hospital for several days —”
“What happened?”
Nina smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Not actually an answer to the question I asked. Objection.”
“God, you’re such a lawyer. Why do I like you?” He offered her his ice cream. Nina huffed and scooped up some salted caramel. “Right, that’s why. Oh, that’s good.” She finished the spoonful and offered him some of her own. It was a sacrifice, but he’d earned it. “Fine. Sometimes, marines who smuggle and distribute drugs object to getting arrested. And sometimes, they are armed when objecting. They almost always try to go through the person they think is the easiest target in their attempt to escape. Which is not the NCIS agent who sounds, dresses, and cuts his hair like he’s still a Gunnery Sargent but the blonde chick in a fancy suit.”
“I bet they often regret that decision.”
“Yup. But they usually get a few shots in before the regret sets in. Which is fine, but this one was flying on his own product, too high to feel pain, and had a knife on him.” Nina rolled her healed shoulder. “Even a taser and the three agents piling on didn't phase him.”
AJ tapped his spoon against the waffle bowl a few times, cracking it. “So, you were stabbed several times by a violent criminal with advanced combat training while in an altered state.”
“Yes, Your Honour.”
He glowered. “I’m a lawyer, not a judge.”
“Pretty sure the office is called ‘Judge Advocate General’ for a reason.”
“Not the office I currently occupy.”
“I bet it’s a corner office, though.”
“I plead the fifth. So, eighteen months ago, you got stabbed repeatedly by an embarrassment to the uniform while doing your job,” AJ said, wrenching the conversational reigns out of her control. “Based on what I saw tonight, I assume your paternal figure failed to meet expectations?”
The fact that he could navigate her conversational redirections and still sound like a damned lawyer while doing it should not have been attractive. It was, but it shouldn’t be.
“If, by expectations, you mean bothering to respond to NCIS or the hospital’s repeated calls? Then, yes, he failed to meet expectations.” She stirred her spoon through the last bit of ice cream, mostly melted and soaking into the base of the waffle bowl, not meeting AJ’s eyes. “I have an uncle in London who got on a plane within a day. My father was busy trying to hook a woman with no idea he had an adult daughter or multiple marriages — she was a wealthy widow who put a lot of money into various cancer charities. He claimed to be a widower whose wife of 27 years had died of cancer after a long fight. Couldn’t risk the lie falling apart when he was so close to reeling her in, and it wasn’t like he could do anything for me, right? He’s not a doctor, after all.”
She shrugged and crunched into a piece of the waffle bowl. “But a new business venture that needs investment capital and involves a business partner who prefers to work with people dedicated to family? Well, that’s worth a trip and an expensive hotel bill — which he’ll try to skip out on if he can — and a show of paternal affection. So, yes, I see him when he needs or wants something.”
His hand was big and warm as he laid it over hers. “I’m sorry.”
Nina shrugged again — shoulders only, not drawing away from him — and smiled, wide and bright, as she met his solemn gaze. “Why? Not your fault.” His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, and she let the smile fade. “I’ve had a couple of selfish exes and even one that was manipulative as all hell. But there’s no real way to break up with a bad father. If any other man regularly ghosted me, only called when he wanted money and brought up my mother as a way to hurt or control me — he’d be blocked and sent a sternly-worded cease-and-desist letter. But you don’t have a checklist for ending a parental relationship permanently, and there are too many movies where the bad dad makes good, and not many where someone walks away without guilt.
“We’re supposed to forgive. We’re supposed to honour our parents. But how many times do you think a heart can break before there’s nothing left?”
“Hearts don’t break. They scar.” AJ took her other hand in his and squeezed them both. “And keep beating despite the pain.”
“How much do you have to hurt before the pain kills the feelings that keep you coming back?” She laughed. “Why don’t emotions have an immune system? One that fights off damaging emotions — like the stupid hope that one day, he’ll call to talk to me without ulterior motives?”
He tipped his head to the side. “That would be nice, but imagine the equivalent autoimmune disorders?” He didn’t look away or let go.
Nina considered that. “Okay, maybe not. Puberty is bad enough already.”
“You mentioned your uncle. You’re close to him?”
“Uncle Clive? I lived with him from twelve until I finished high school.” Nina relaxed, leaning into the table. Her hands were still held in his. “He’s my mother’s older brother. When my father accidentally forgot me in Hawaii, Clive set a battalion of lawyers on him.”
AJ blew out a breath. “How do you accidentally forget a child in Hawaii?”
“I wasn’t supposed to go, but my mother’s family was seeking control of her estate, including my trust fund. His lawyer told him leaving me alone with paid staff for weeks during the summer would look bad in court, so he took me along to play happy families.” Nina shrugged it off; that was old news. AJ looked tense, but she didn’t know what to say to ease him. For all her ability to persuade people, Toni could never find the words to soften her childhood. Probably because blunt honesty and acceptance were the only ways she knew of to deal with it herself.
“But when we were there, an opportunity came up, and he took it — a child didn’t factor in. It cost him custody and control of the trust, and he had to settle for the rich divorcee he’d followed onto a cruise ship.”
“It sounds like you have family, then.”
Uncle Clive, Aunt Rose and even her outrageous grandfather Paddington. She hadn’t seen any of them in person since she was stabbed. It might be time to use some of her accrued vacation time and take a trip.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And I know I’m better off with them than my father, but a traitorous little voice in my head wonders if it’s my fault he doesn’t love me. My head knows the failing is in him, that he doesn’t love me because he doesn’t love anyone but himself. But the heart is different. My heart says my mum loved him enough to leave her family and country for him, and she would be disappointed that I don’t love him the same way.”
“Your heart,” AJ asked. “Or his voice in your head?”
“Oh, the latter, certainly,” she agreed. “And I know that my mum was all of twenty-two when she got her head turned by a handsome narcissist, self-medicated for her loneliness and disappointment, and didn’t live long enough to realize she could leave. But knowing all that doesn’t make it easier to ignore that little voice.”
“If the doubts others planted in us were easy to ignore, entire professions would cease to exist.”
“Therapists and prostitutes would both have fewer clients,” Nina agreed. She drew one of her hands away from his and propped her chin on it. “Speaking of —”
“Oh, were we?”
His dry delivery and exasperated expression amused her. Usually, people just got frustrated with her when she manipulated conversations or got upset when she deflected with raunchy references. It got her out of conversations she didn’t want and helped her locate any prude in her vicinity. Nina wasn’t nearly as sex-focused as she pretended to be but enjoyed fucking with people who thought sex talk wasn’t ladylike.
AJ seemed to flow with her conversational starts and either played along with or ignored her attempts to deflect. Maybe it was the lawyer in him.
God, Gibbs was going to be pissed about her breaking the rules. But he’d get over it, and Nina’s personal rule number one was to know the rules so you knew when and how to break them.
“I usually buy someone a drink, pay by the hour, or put out before I spill this much emotional baggage,” she said. “Now I feel a little bad about you buying.”
“Don’t be. I volunteered. And I’m not a therapist or a hooker —”
“Lawyers aren’t nearly as honest or as honourable as one of those professions,” she interrupted with a grin.
“ — But I still bill by the hour, so I can afford it. And pro-bono work for the less fortunate is part of the profession.”
“Ouch,” Nina said with a laugh. “No comment on me putting out, Counsellor?”
“I’m no longer an officer but still a gentleman.”
“You can take the uniform off the man,” she said with a smirk, “but you still find it once you scratch the surface.”
“Mixing metaphors, agent?”
“Dodging the question, Admiral?”
“I’m retired, and I didn’t hear a question. Just a lot of hot air.”
Nina laughed. “Stop making it easy for me. I’ll leave the joke about blowing for another time. Fine, then, here’s the question: let me buy you dinner?”
“Yes. Not tonight,” he added. “Next weekend?”
She exhaled, then tilted her head. “I’m free next weekend, but why not tonight? It’s still early enough for a late dinner.”
“Because tonight I’m helping a hurting friend who needs an ear and a shoulder, not a date. And because you should go home and call your uncle about tonight,” he finished.
“It’s been a while since I told my uncle about my dates,” she deflected. “Also, I don’t usually let men dictate terms or assume I’m too emotional to make a decision,” Nina added pointedly. Even when it wasn’t her father using the perception of an ‘emotional woman’ to manipulate a crowd, Nina didn’t tolerate that narrative. Women got accused of being emotional for any and all reasons, while men who stalked and murdered people over rejection did not.
“Objection,” AJ said. “I did not say that, nor did I mean it. Besides, emotions don’t negate someone’s decision-making ability.”
Nina considered that and then conceded. “Sustained.”
He looked amused. “Thank you. I’d also wager you’ve never been so emotional that you couldn’t take care of yourself or manage everyone around you simultaneously. But,” he added, “you are upset — justifiably. Try selling the impenetrable special agent to someone who hasn’t been talking to you for the last hour. Let someone be on your side, Antonia; you don’t have to defend yourself against all comers.”
She sat back to study him. He met her gaze evenly and said nothing while she took her time.
“Not a bad argument,” she finally decided.
“Well, I am a lawyer,” he said dryly.
“I could get so embarrassed by showing my deep personal secrets and being vulnerable that I change my mind between now and next weekend,” Nina said. Testing.
AJ shrugged. “You’re entitled to change your mind. But you’ve already said it takes more than most to embarrass you, and you clearly don’t back down from challenges.”
“Not just a lawyer, but a good one.”
He smiled. “Don’t sound so irritated about it.”
“Competence is only attractive when it’s not used to trap me with my own words.”
“That’s a lie.”
It was, damn it. Someone seeing through her verbal traps and distractions was annoying and incredibly attractive. “Shut up. I prefer Nina, by the way. Not Antonia, and never Toni, despite my father’s insistence on using it.”
“Noted,” AJ said, standing. “Let me walk you back to your car.”
She rose as well and let him help her with her coat again. The gesture was smooth when AJ executed it, and Nina couldn’t deny she enjoyed his hands as he settled the coat over her shoulders.
The girl behind the counter watched them, cleaning cloth in hand, as AJ offered his arm. Nina tucked her hand into his elbow and raised an eyebrow at the girl. She grinned shamelessly, and Nina pointed at her and waggled her finger until the girl pretended to wipe the counter.
“Ruined,” Nina told AJ once they stepped outside.
“Good, maybe she’ll see through the boys her age.”
“Like that’s hard. The average 20-year-old boy is as transparent as cling wrap and twice as easy to twist up. This way,” she directed him towards her car. “Cellphone, please.”
AJ retrieved it from his pocket. “Who am I calling?”
“Me, eventually.” She wiggled her fingers until he handed over the phone. Nina flipped it open, navigated to the contacts, and entered her cell and home numbers. Finally, she texted herself so she’d have his number. “Here you go.”
He took the phone and read it. “ ‘Very Special Agent Nina’. Really?” He squinted at the screen and navigated a moment. “ ‘This is Admiral Silver Fox,’ ” he read aloud from her text. “Still retired.”
Nina dug out her phone and typed a reply to her text. “I’ll be sure to add that to your contact details.”
His phone sounded a notification for an incoming text. AJ read it aloud. “ ‘This is the only warning you get to run for the hills.’ I’ll keep that in mind,” he told her.
“Good, you’ve got a week to back out.”
“SEALs lead the way,” was all he said to that challenge. His phone disappeared into a pocket for the rest of the walk to her car.
Nina considered what to wear for dinner next week. She’d have to make a reservation for a restaurant once she called her uncle and checked on flights to London.
Anthony DiNozzo was hardly a consideration as Nina planned a date and a vacation.
END