Free Reclaim: A Recovered Innocence Novel by Beth Yarnall Page B

seem strange to you, but I
like
what I do. I’m proud to be a private investigator. I’m prouder still when I get to help out on cases like Carla’s. It’s the reason I became a private investigator instead of a cop. It’s the reason I applied for a job at Nash Security and Investigation. I wanted the chance to help free people who were wrongly convicted.” I take a sip of wine, contemplating the events that led me to be sitting here with her now. “Just like you. I may not identify with Carla in the same ways that you do, but I know what it’s like to make mistakes, to feel like the world is working against you.”
    “When has the world ever worked against you?”
    “Every damn day, it feels like sometimes. I don’t know what it looks like from the outside, but the truth is I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Nothing’s ever been handed to me. I have to try and try again. I fail. A lot. That’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s the truth. I screw up. Like today with the trunk and the camera. I should’ve checked for surveillance devices before we started searching that office. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.”
    “Maybe it’s not so much the world working against you as it is you working against yourself.”
    “That’s a fair summation. My point is that things aren’t always cut-and-dried. People aren’t what they seem like on the surface. There’s more to me—and you too—than it looks like from the outside. That’s all I’m saying. And if you can overlook Carla’s faults, why can’t you overlook mine?”
    “You really care about what I think of you?”
    More than I should.
“Why not? We’re friends or working toward it. We have crazy chemistry. Who knows where that will lead if we decide to follow it. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. And I’m…I’m going to shut up now.”
Before I dig myself in any deeper with my shovel of desperation. Idiot. Talk about working against yourself.
    She twists the stem of her wineglass, then drinks the remainder of its contents. I refill her glass—her third—as she starts talking. Her manner’s a lot more relaxed than it was when we first walked in.
    “You go to church. You took on Carla’s case with nearly the same enthusiasm as I did. You seem to have a good sense of right and wrong. At the same time you do things that ride the line, but somehow manage to stay barely legal, which tells me that you have morals that are important to you. You’re hot and you kiss like you took a master class in making out. And your apartment…”
    “What about my apartment?”
    “It’s cleaner than mine.”
    “Can we go back to the kissing part?”
    “What I’m saying is I don’t have a bad impression of you.” She sets her wineglass down after a drink and I notice it’s half empty. “I might even like you.”
    I sit back in my chair, stunned. “Well, shit. I hope that’s not the wine talking.”
    “It probably is and I probably shouldn’t have any more if I’m going to drive home.” She pushes her glass away from her.
    “You could always spend the night.”
    “You’re riding the line again, buddy.”
    “Right. Okay. Shutting up now.” I stand and clear away the dishes and trash.
    Behind me I hear something that sounds suspiciously like
And you have a nice ass.
But there’s no way Lila would ever say something like that, is there? The wine must be affecting me too. I grab the empty bottle off the table and toss it in the trash. I rinse our wineglasses and put them in the dishwasher, then grab a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge. The last thing I want is one or both of us getting drunk and doing something we might regret later.
    “Follow me back to my office,” I tell her. “And bring your phone and charge cord.” It’s time I got my head back on business and not thinking about how she said I’m a good kisser. Although that was my favorite part.
    She casually peels off her high-heeled boots and