+18 - eps 28-32 - On the sixth installment of the Blackbird series, Cassidy sends Gillian and her team with Brock and Russel to Tampa, Florida, to look into the death of a girl while winter storm Jonas beats the East Coast. But this seemingly ordina...
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"Don't think you're getting away with this, Gillian," Brock grunted.
She scoffed, avoiding eye contact as if Brock was Medusa. "Sorry, sir, but there's no 'this'."
"Like hell. Don't try to fool me."
"I don't. Things are just the way they are, whether we like them or not. And our deeds are on our heads. For good."
Now they were getting somewhere. Brock knew open questions wouldn't work, but sarcasm might get him some answer.
"Didn't know you had a thing for drama."
Well, don't I love you? She scoffed again. It was weird, Brock trying sarcasm to get information from her.
"Am I not full of surprises," she replied. "Let's just drop it, sir. It's not a nice conversation for us to have."
"Sorry. You just compared yourself to a man who videotapes himself torturing women to death. Shouldn't I get to know why? I mean, I'd like to know who I'm really working with."
He didn't say it. He didn't need to. Gillian heard the 'who I'm in love with' alright.
"Sir, please."
One day Brock would admit how much he liked her skill to turn one of the nicest words into a threat.
"Really. D'you have some sick, twisted side you managed to hide all your life?"
She huffed and rolled her eyes, expecting her lack of respect would shift his focus.
Dream on.
"Do tell me. You know I'm interested. Not quite unique, but always a promising profile, a natural-born serial killer hiding in plain view behind a badge for so long."
A part of her loved the way he tried to push her to the corner. A larger part of her tripped on the push.
"Isn't it what we all LEOs are?" she replied.
What was that aching thorn in her side? Who had she taken down that made her feel not only so angry, but also so disappointed at herself?
"No. You're not a sick, twisted murderer. Neither am I."
"Really."
Something in her voice made his guts squirm. He knew he was just a few words away from finding out whatever tortured her so badly. But his instinct wasn't sure he wanted to take on what led to that final piece of information. However, he nodded, radiating confidence to cover up his suspicion.
"Positive."
She glared at him. How come such a brilliant mind turned out to be such a blind idiot?
"Never thought you were a fool in denial," she grunted.
Brock took his turn to raise his eyebrows-not buying the gambit to distract me.
"Maybe you can enlighten me?"
Gillian should've scoffed once more. She didn't. The whole thing hurt too much to play along. She knew she'd regret it later, and she didn't care.
"Who's asking? The man who beat the Libra's face to a pulp after disarming him?"
She almost smiled at Brock's homicidal glare. His knuckles went white around the wheel. She looked out the windshield, feeling a sour, useless satisfaction. Maybe now he'd learn to drop it when she asked him to, instead of playing smart on her.
Brock breathed deep three, four, five times. He expected some kind of low blow, but certainly not that low. Despite the anger burning up his belly, he managed to push his mind past it. What could make her try to hurt him like this? Profile, profiler! She's trying to make you feel like she feels. But she'd never lost someone actually close to her to a murderer, and she'd never taken revenge on anybody either. Not to the extent of killing them, like he'd killed the Libra.
He saw her produce her phone and type a few words. What had she done to feel so guilty? Enough to call herself a murderer!
Really, Brockner. Forgot how to ask the right questions? He rolled his eyes at himself. He almost missed the last turn to the house, too busy trying to remember when had he ever seen her take a life.
Gillian needed both hands on the dash to not hit her chest against it when Brock stepped hard on the brake. She turned to him, about to ask what the hell had gotten to him. But she trailed off at his scowl.
"Balken?" he asked, refusing to believe it.
She scowled too, taken aback. How the hell did he...? She snorted at herself, hoping he'd believe it was at him. Of course he'd figure it out! Stupid bigmouth! He was too good to stay on her low blow, no matter how low!
"Gillian, that man was out to kill Coleman and me. He would've stopped at nothing. Had you not..."
She raised her hand, avoiding eye contact again. "Can we please get to the house before morning?" she growled.
Brock shook his head as he did what she asked. A moment later he turned into the drive way. Tanya came out before he even killed the engine, and Gillian jumped out of the SUV to open the backseat door. He watched on the rearview how they covered the CPU with a thick plastic sheet and hurried together into the house.
