Free Sasha McCandless 03 - Irretrievably Broken by Melissa F. Miller

office. It was empty. Her screensaver—an image of the Lady of Justice statue that graced the clock tower atop the Clear Brook County Courthouse—was on, so she’d been gone more than a few minutes.
    Probably across the hall gossiping with Naya.
    He rapped on Naya’s door.
    “Come in,” Naya called.
    He eased the door open and craned his neck to look in: no Sasha.
    “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were Mac,” Naya said.
    “Hello to you, too, Naya.”
    He strode in and flung himself into the cream- and navy-striped guest chair.
    “Come on in and have a seat, fly boy,” Naya deadpanned.
    “Thanks.”
    Leo smiled at her. For all her prickliness, he knew Naya liked him. Or, he was pretty sure she did. Most of the time.
    “Where is she, anyway?” he asked.
    “She must still be at P & T.”
    “Prescott & Talbott? What’s she doing there?”
    Naya gave him a sharp look. “She didn’t tell you?”
    Leo shook his head. Their conversation the night before had centered on his job opportunity, before devolving into a trip down memory lane, as they recounted their year together over drinks—far too many drinks. She hadn’t mentioned work at all, which, in retrospect, was unlike her.
    Naya arched an eyebrow.
    “What?” Leo asked.
    She sighed. “They asked her to represent Ellen Mortenson’s husband on his murder charges.”
    Leo shook his head like he had water in his ear. “I’m sorry, Prescott & Talbott wants Sasha to represent the man who’s been charged with killing a Prescott partner?”
    “You got it.”
    “That’s ...” he trailed off, unable to come up with a word to describe the situation.
    Naya had several, however.
    “Insane? Ridiculous? Inadvisable? A terrible idea?”
    “Well, yeah. She’s not going to do it, right?”
    Naya shrugged, with an exaggerated motion, as if to say, who knows what that girl will do. She narrowed her eyes, taking in his khakis and sweater.
    “No work today?”
    It was Leo’s turn to give Naya a sharp look.
    “Sasha didn’t tell you ?” he asked.
    “Tell me what?”
    “I’ve been offered a job in the private sector. Outside D.C.”
    Naya’s dark eyes flashed, but she hid her surprise and said, “You’re not going to take it, though.”
    He said nothing.
    “Leo?”
    He couldn’t tell her. He didn’t trust her not to tell Sasha. The job offer was more like a soft landing that his supervisor had arranged. Apparently, the Department of Homeland Security had decided he was not a team player, as befit a special agent with the U.S. Air Marshal’s Office. “Lone wolf,” was what his supervisor had said, in describing his unofficial investigation into the Hemisphere Air crash and the role he’d played in the Marcellus Shale mess up in Clear Brook County.
    Leo hadn’t bothered to argue the decision. He’d been tagged as a problem. His impeccable record, past commendations, and indisputable effectiveness meant nothing now, as far as the Department was concerned. It was a stain that no amount of argument would remove. He supposed he should be grateful that he had enough goodwill left within the Department to get him the cushy civilian job with the six-figure salary.
    But, he didn’t want Sasha to know. He knew she’d blame herself, even though he’d decided on his own to skirt the limits of his authority to help her. She had never asked him to do anything. He’d wanted her to see him as indispensable. He’d wanted to be important to her.
    Naya was still staring at him. Or glaring at him, actually. She was leaning forward in her chair like she was ready to spring at him.
    “I don’t know, Naya. It’s an enticing offer.”
    Her glare grew even fiercer.
    Leo felt the absurd need to make her understand. “Come on, Naya, Sasha knew my position here was temporary.”
    It was true. He’d been working out of the Pittsburgh field office for nearly a year with no real justification for it. Once it had become clear that no marshals had been involved in the