Deadly Revenge (Pearl River #3)

Chapter 21

21

Jenna was surprised at how quickly she and Max slipped into their old roles and brainstormed what they needed to do. While they’d waited for their food, he shared the email from his logistics team approving the location of law enforcement personnel.

She checked her watch, not believing they’d been sitting in the booth an hour and a half going over the security measures while they ate.

“Then you agree,” Jenna said, looking up from the notes she’d made on her iPad. “We need ten officers on duty Founders Day?”

Max nodded. “City and county are providing two on the platform along with two of Carter’s private security, four officers out front, and four more in the crowd. Plus Carter’s other two security guys.”

She’d missed these sessions. Jenna scooped up the last bite of peach cobbler in the small bowl and grinned. “That was good.”

He smiled back. “I see you haven’t lost your love of sweets.”

“Yeah. Probably never will.” She glanced at her notes again and grunted. “This is going to be like herding cats.”

“Herding cats?”

Jenna winced. “I cannot believe I said that. I am becoming my grandmother!”

Max turned his head, obviously trying not to laugh. He was probably recalling the times she’d talked about her grandmother’s use of folk sayings.

“If that’s the worst thing that ever happens to you ...”

Jenna ducked her head. He was right—she could do a lot worse than be like the grandmother who helped raise her.

“How is Eva?”

“Sassy as ever.” Max had met her grandmother a few times at the family picnics the department liked to put on to foster family support and encouragement for officers.

Big mistake—Granna decided Max was the best thing since sliced bread and a perfect match for her. It hadn’t mattered that Max was Jenna’s boss, or that she and Phillip were becoming an item—her grandmother had thought that was a mistake from the get-go. Even now, Granna asked about Max at least a couple of times a month, in spite of Jenna telling her she hadn’t seen him since he became a TBI agent. “She asks about you sometimes.”

Talk about an understatement.

“Tell her I said hello, and that I’ll try and see her while I’m in town.”

“She would like that.” Except it wasn’t happening. If it did, Granna’s comments would start weekly.

Her face warmed under his intense gaze. Not to mention her heart pounding like she’d run a marathon.

“Don’t believe I’ve heard ‘herding cats’ in a while, but it certainly fits,” he said, grinning.

“I once used it a lot, dealing with Levi and his friends.”

“Who’s Levi?”

“He’s the only good thing that came out of what happened in Chattanooga.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “He’s eight. His dad was killed the same night I was shot in that drug deal that went south. His mom had taken off with a boyfriend, and he lived with his grandmother in the apartments behind James A. Henry. I helped out with the mentoring program at the apartment community center while I was recovering. That’s when I used the ‘herding cats’ phrase.”

“So how is he doing now?”

“Better. I set him up with a Big Brother, but I still try to get to Chattanooga and see him occasionally. His grandmother has serious health problems, and I’ve brought him to Pearl Springs for the weekend a couple of times, to give her a break. I’m planning to get him again this weekend.”

Max opened his mouth and quickly closed it.

She narrowed her eyes. “What were you going to say?”

“This weekend?”

Jenna groaned. What was she even thinking? Even if the murders got solved, she would be working on the security for Carter. “Right. Not this weekend, but soon.”

“I hope you don’t overload yourself. Stress can sometimes trigger PTSD.”

“I’m fine. No more problems, other than a healthy dose of caution—which is a good thing to have as a deputy.”

“Then it’s probably good for you to invest yourself in the kid. Except—what would you do if he was here and you were called out to an emergency? Your grandmother is getting up in years.”

“Granna loves having Levi around. She’d fill in for me. Besides, it’s only for a weekend every now and then, not even once a month,” she said, keeping her voice from sounding defensive.

But one thing he’d said had hit a nerve. Her grandmother was eighty, and an eight-year-old boy might be more than she could handle. “And I’ll make sure it’s a weekend I don’t work when I bring Levi here.”

The look he gave her said they both knew her job didn’t work that way. He held up his hand. “Wait—I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just ... kids take a lot of time.”

“And you know this how?”