Trust Fall

arms a little tighter.
Feeling her nails on his skin, he glimpsed her hold on him and presented a mischievous grin. “I’ll stop talking now.”
Flaunting a half smirk, she nodded. “Wise choice.”
“So.” The word was a complete sentence. “Can you wear that little red outfit with the bra that pushes up your,” he glanced at his cupped hands in front of his chest before lifting his gaze, “what’s that called again?”
“A push-up bra?”
“Oh yeah.” He frowned. “Name’s kind of right there in the description, isn’t it?”
Devlin stifled a giggle.
“So can you wear that?”
She went to tip toes, “Anything for you,” and pecked his lips. “But I need to go. I don’t want to be late for work.” She climbed into the F-150 and secured her seat belt.
Knowing her commute took less than ten minutes, Ashford spied his watch—7:43. “You mean you don’t want to be late...for being early.”
She adjusted the shoulder harness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do the same thing when you were with the FBI.”
He chuckled, “Speaking of that,” before faltering, “when Cassie goes back to school this fall...”
Devlin inserted a key into the ignition.
“...I was thinking of applying for SWAT.”
Her body stiffening, she squeezed the key, but stopped short of starting the engine.
Ashford noticed her change in posture. “I know you’re not comfortable about me heading back into the line of fire...with what happened to Jonathon and all, but,” he dropped hands onto his waist, “I just thought with Cassie and me having spent the last year getting to know each other better that...it was time for me to go back to work.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to make the decision without discussing it with you first.”
Devlin leaned back and studied her fingernails.
“I’m sure I can get a recommendation from Director Jameson...all but guaranteeing me a job.” Ashford looked up at the parting clouds and blue sky. Temperatures were already higher than normal for early May. Its muffler rumbling, an older car passed by the house. He came back to her. “Think about it. We can talk tonight,” his shoulders went up and down again, “or whenever.”
“Curt,” she squared her upper body with him, “I’m not going to lie to you. Jonathon’s death hit me hard, especially the way he died. I felt like life had sucker punched me, abandoned me, leaving me to raise a four-year-old on my own.” Shaking her head, she gawked at the driveway between Ashford’s feet. “Those were tough times.”
Ashford’s protruding pectoral muscles bounced once and settled, as he folded his arms and put a shoulder to the truck’s frame.
“As time went on, however,” she lifted her head and jutted out her chin toward him, “and finding you...I’ve gotten a little better at dealing with my insecurities.” She regarded her husband for several moments before letting out a short sigh. “You were an FBI agent when I met you. You love what you do.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “I don’t want to come between you and something you love, something you’re good at. If you want to try for SWAT, I’ll support you.”
He pressed his lips together for a few seconds. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
She stared through the windshield, her mind revisiting the dark days from two years ago.
Ashford covered her fingers with his.
She pivoted her head toward him, a faint smile on her face. “I will be. I’m a woman. If there’s one thing women excel at...it’s overcoming, adapting, persevering.”
“Just so you know,” he held up three fingers, “that’s three things, not one.”
Devlin gave him a heartier smile and tugged on his shirt.
He listed into the cab.
She kissed him. “I love you, Curt. I’ll stand by whatever you decide to do.”
He nodded. “I love you, too, Jessica.”
She started the truck and rolled down the window. “Now, will you let me get out of here?”
He backed away from the Ford. “Before you’re late for—”
“Yes, yes, I know...” she closed the door and put the transmission in gear, “for being early.”
He laughed.
She smiled, blew him a kiss, and drove away.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.

Chapter 7
Simon Patton
7:54 a.m.
u.s. marshals service
alexandria, virginia
district headquarters
Devlin leaned back against the elevator car, the fingers of one hand curled around her coffee mug and pinching her sack breakfast. Her phone in the other hand, she skimmed email titles and browsed news feeds. A title caught her eye: CAPITALS SKATE BY RED WINGS, 3-1. She smiled. Curt must be happy.
Since moving to Washington D.C., Ashford had become a big Washington Capitals fan. He never missed watching them on television or updating Devlin on the score when work kept her from watching the game with him. A year ago, their first date had been dinner at her home with her daughter and her father. After putting Cassandra to bed a little early, Devlin and Ashford had cozied up to each other on the couch to take in the Capitals game. At that moment, hockey had become the couple’s official sport.
Devlin slid her thumb up the mobile’s screen. Weird, he never mentioned the game last night. She stopped scrolling and lifted her head, his words from the night before coming back to her: Whoa. You weren’t wearing that when you left this morning. Hearing the elevator bell a second ahead of the doors parting, she pushed away from the car, chuckling to herself. I guess when your wife comes home dressed like a hooker...hockey probably isn’t the first thing that comes to your mind.
Exiting the elevator, she made her way to her office, exchanging greetings with coworkers and accepting jubilant adulations for apprehending Mendoza. News traveled fast when another criminal was off the streets.
Dropping into her black leather chair, while opening her sack breakfast, Devlin heard a knock at the door. She looked up to see Hawkins, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and striped tie, leaning into her office. “Morning, Hawk.”
“I heard the uproar a second ago,” his eyes twinkled, “and figured Caesar had returned to Rome.”
She sniggered. “I hope you didn’t waste too much of the