ANGIE

One

"You look like shit."

Jerking up in his seat, Jake Richardson looked at the other investigator as Rami al-Taysir slid in across from him in the small booth. Fanny's was the stereotype of the small town dive in every book or movie; it suited them to meet there though. It was away from the city he worked in, so the odds of being seen by his client or client's men was lessened. And if he was seen, he had a cover story ready to go.

Leaning back against the nonexistent padding of the worn, patched booth, Rami studied him. As usual, those piercing green eyes saw too much. At a few inches under six feet tall, Rami was lean and athletic in build, something unable to be hidden by the common jeans, thick sweater, and bomber jacket...unlike her actual gender. A master of disguise, Rami was androgynous enough to pass as either gender on her slightest whim.

"I feel like shit," Jake agreed; his voice was hoarse, strained.

"Flu?"

"...only partly," he admitted, shifting on the uncomfortable cushioning of the booth he sat on. Habit had him glancing around checking the exits, checking for observers. His dark eyes flickered when Rami set the small jammer down between them nonchalantly. A tension that had been with him for the past couple months eased.

"And the other part?"

"Its...tricky. Related to one of my cases," he elaborated with a grimace.

Technically cases could only be discussed among members of the crew working it. And while he and Rami had paired up on more than one case on behalf of the law firm Rami's father ran...this wasn't one of them.

Rami's eyes narrowed.

Jake was a consummate professional. Someone able to compartmentalize as needed and a real hardass able to go toe-to-toe with criminals, crooked cops, and assholes in general. All in all, he was one of the best state-side investigators Rami worked with.

And right now the towering hulk of a man looked like he'd been put through a wringer - his usually trimmed and groomed goatee was ragged and from the growth on his cheeks, it looked like he'd not shaved in a couple weeks. Even his casually messy manbun was looking scraggly and like he'd not had a proper shower in a few days.

And even like he'd lost weight, his face gaunt and bags of exhaustion under his eyes. The frown lines bracketing his mouth and between his brow were deeper than when she had seen him last year. And was that gray hair coming in at his temples? He wasn't even forty!

It was no real question why Rami had at first thought he'd been hit by a bad bout with the flu...

"You've come across something illegal. Or close to it," Rami said softly. "Something connected to whoever hired you."

Hardass that he was, Jake was honest. So many of his cases involved uncovering very unpleasant truths, often helping the police if needed. He and his team's territory covered several cities and towns in the state of Maryland as well as DC.

"It was just supposed to be a cheating wife case," Jake confessed. "He says she was cheating, kicked her out, had me tail her to find out who her lover was, keep an eye on her. The usual. Thing is, there is no lover. And he's...crossed so many lines..."

Rami's head tilted to the side slightly, an eyebrow flicking up in silent encouragement. It was all the encouragement he needed to unload the whole sordid thing.

"She's pregnant. And he kicked her out with only the clothing on her back in the middle of the night. He wouldn't let her get any of her stuff - not even put shoes on! And when she was begging him to talk to her or even let her have a pair of shoes, a coat, and her purse, he called the cops on her. Turns out he's friends with the Police Chief..."