Free Deadly Odds by Adrienne Giordano

to…”
    Hand still on the door handle, he halted, drew up straight. “What’s wrong?”
    “I’m f—”
    “Don’t even try it.”
    He shut the door and strode toward her, his eyes on her, searching. Dissecting. The sudden intensity, the blast of all his attention ignited a whirl of confusion.
    And then he was in front of her, squatting to eye level, gently positioning her chair so she faced him and—there—he was right there. In her space, huddling close and she let out a half breath, half sigh because co-worker or not, no matter how she sliced it, someone she’d seen every morning for almost three years, someone she cared for, was dead.
    She squeezed her eyes shut. No falling apart. Not here. Not in front of a client.
    Damned shock couldn’t hang on another few minutes? Just a few measly minutes until she could get to privacy. Then she’d cry. Or yell. Or kick something. Whatever. As long as she got rid of this churning agony.
    He wrapped one hand around her knee and squeezed. “What’s happening?”
    She shook her head. Pull it together . He’d caught her mid-meltdown. Embarrassing? Sure. Unprofessional? You betcha. The daily double of career girl suicide.
    “Please, Kate. Let me help you.”
    “My friend,” she blurted, “was murdered.”
    * * *
    Murdered ?
    What the hell was going on around here today? Ross shook his head, hopped up, dragging Kate from her chair and wrapping his arms around her. What the hell else could he do?
    He could fix a lot of things. This one? No clue. In the last fifteen minutes, two people, dead.
    “I’m so sorry,” he said.
    She kept her hands at her sides, her body stiff. In his three seconds of not knowing what to do, he’d damned near accosted her.
    She lowered her forehead to his shoulder and raised her hands, set them against his chest and, insensitive moron that he was, he liked that. The way her body fit with his. He shook it off. Concentrated on what he needed to do to help her.
    “I just found out,” she said. “I talked to him this morning and now he’s gone.”
    “What can I do?”
    She shook her head. Then, as quickly as she’d leaned into him she lurched backward. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Totally inappropriate. You’re dealing with your own loss here and I’m…” She flapped her arms.
    Now she was worried about appropriate? She wasn’t human? Wasn’t allowed a minute to process rotten news?
    “Kate, in this situation, I’d say you’re entitled. Was this a close friend?”
    “Mark. We worked together at the FBI. I called him to—”
    She paused, met his eyes and…what? There was more. He knew it, sensed it in the way she broke off.
    Sure, she could have meant to simply say she’d called him. No qualifying statement. I called him to set up a date. I called him for information. Nope. None of that.
    Yet, there was more. And whatever it was, she didn’t want Ross to know.
    Still, he pressed. “You called him to?”
    “Nothing. Catching up.”
    Catching up after she’d just said she spoke to him that morning. Huh.
    Working in the gaming industry, sometimes surrounded by degenerate gamblers and hustlers—grifters generally looking for a score—he’d learned to recognize liars and their ticks, the body language that came with dishonesty. And standing in front of him was a woman who hadn’t necessarily lied, but she hadn’t told the truth either.
    And that was a problem.
    “I think,” she said, “I’m in shock. That’s all.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “It’s an odd feeling. We weren’t terribly close. And with that job, you go in knowing any day could be your last.”
    “It’s still a loss,” Ross said.
    He’d just experienced it himself when Samuels dumped the Dale Cousins news on them. No pre-amble. No warm up. No gently breaking it to them.
    Whap . Hit them with it.
    “You know,” he said, “it’s been a wild day. We should all regroup and start fresh tomorrow.”
    In his mind, class-A plan. Kate could go home, he could