Davis lifted his head and, after a quick look over the side, stared down into Lara’s cloudy eyes. “Company.”
The boat shifted in the water and the footsteps fell louder. The chuckle came next. “Probably not the best timing on my part, but hello.”
Davis looked away from the woman who meant everything and over to the brother he’d called for help. Pax stood on the ladder with a bag of what looked like food in one hand and a folder in the other.
After a quick mental assessment Davis decided all of that, whatever it was, could wait. “Get lost.”
“Pax!” Lara jumped off the seat and straight into Pax’s arms. He dropped his packages just in time and her smile beamed. “It’s good to see you.”
Lara had the power to lighten even Pax’s darkest moods. They had a sister-brother relationship. They joked and she made fun of the way he hid his dates from her. And put either of them near a tub of raw cookie dough and it would be gone before you could get a spoon and jump in.
The stab of guilt over losing her extended to Pax. Davis had lost the love of his life. Pax had lost someone he cared about, and that list was not very long.
“You, too, though the circumstances need some work.” Pax looked at Davis over the top of Lara’s head and mouthed the word
sorry.
“You guys okay post guns and knives?”
“I was better five minutes ago,” Davis mumbled.
Pax kept an arm around Lara. “And look at you beating up the bad guys. I hear the lamp is your weapon of choice.”
“Kind of hard to hide in my pants, but yes.”
Accepting the fact the kiss was over and not going to be revived anytime soon, Davis motioned for Pax to sit. “What did you find out?”
Pax guided Lara back to the bench next to Davis before grabbing his dropped belongings and dropping in the seat across from them. “NCIS is on the scene at Wasserman’s house. Agents are looking for Lara.”
The blip of happiness disappeared. She looked back and forth between the men. “What?”
“And the dead guy on your floor is, or I guess I should say
was,
a gun for hire. Former military with a dishonorable discharge. Apparently, your boy liked to shoot a bit too much.” Pax handed the file to Davis. “So, it looks like we have some work to do.”
Lara slumped back in the seat. “I almost hate to ask what all of this means.”
The notes were few, but Davis read enough to be concerned. He flipped the pages but put the file down when he realized Lara’s total attention was focused on him.
Prettying it up wouldn’t help, so he shot right to the truth. “Pax is saying you’re likely to be the number one suspect in the murder of Wasserman.”
She shifted until her feet hit the floor, then she pulled them up, then they went back down again. Something seemed to be pinging around inside her and making her squirm. “But why would I kill him? I don’t have a motive.”
Davis switched to his game face—
all is well and easy to handle
—to try to calm her down. Her switch to panic mode would only make the job tougher. “We need to figure out who did and why.”
“And then get to the bottom of Davis’s attacker,” Pax said.
Lara reached for the file but dropped her hand. “The attacker could have followed me. He came in Davis’s house right after.”
Davis had already thought about that possibility and discarded it. “Did you see him following you?”
“No...” She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
Pax looked out over the boat slips and exhaled loud enough to start a tidal wave. “What a mess, but at least some things never change.”
“Like?”
“Ken.” Pax pointed at the man still struggling with his pile of equipment, this time a net he’d accidentally stepped into and got caught around his feet. “Thinks he’s a boater.”
More like a menace, as far as Davis could tell. “I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself or, more likely, someone else.”
“The chances are limited. He never leaves the dock. He gathers stuff, sits on the boat and then goes home. It’s an expensive hobby.” When Ken glanced up, putting his hand over his eyes to block the sun, Pax waved. “Weird but harmless. But back to the attacker issue.”
Her body fell. “So, what are you guys saying?”
“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” And that idea didn’t bother Davis at all.
She gnawed on her lip again. “Oh.”
He winked at her. “Welcome back.”
Chapter Five
NCIS special agent Ben Tanner straightened his tie as he waited in the carpeted outer office of the deputy director’s suite. Ben had been the special agent afloat on the USS
Forrestal
and stationed in field offices as far away as Bahrain. After sixteen years of navy and investigative experience, plus a stint at the War College, he’d faced danger daily. That didn’t mean he liked walking into his boss’s office and delivering bad news. Not to this guy.
The deputy director of NCIS wasn’t known as a patient man. Ronald Worth thought nothing of grinding special agents under his shoe. When he got bad news, the person delivering it often felt the wrath.
The deputy had earned his position. His appointment was not part of the good-old-boy network that sometimes came with prime assignment. But he insisted, irrationally so, that things run smoothly and let everyone feel his displeasure when that didn’t happen.
Ben had heard stories. Standing there in the outer office of the suite, he remembered every single one of them.
The deputy’s assistant, Wayne Kline, knocked on the door and only pushed it open after being ordered in. Even then he didn’t venture fully inside. “Sir, we have a problem.”
Deputy Worth waved them on without looking up from the files spread out in front of him. “Not the words any boss wants to hear at the end of a long day.”
Ben glanced around the office. These weren’t the usual government digs, but NCIS Headquarters had moved to this space in Quantico, Virginia, only a few months ago. The suite was large and plush and, unlike the old offices at the Navy Yard in southeast D.C., had windows that opened and you could see out of.
Behind the huge desk loaded with two computers to match two wall-mounted screens sat Worth, the NCIS legend who had stopped an attack at Camp Pendleton years ago by taking a domestic terrorist down before anyone could get hurt. His career had gone stratospheric after that. People tolerated much because of his past.
The deputy continued to flip pages. “What is it?”
Wayne cleared his throat. Even looked a little green around the mouth as he talked. “It’s about Martin Coughlin.”
“Spit it out.” Ronald looked up. For the first time his eyes focused on something other than paperwork. “Who are you?”
“Special Agent Ben Tanner.”
“Right. I remember.”
Ben had no idea if that was good or bad.
Worth looked Ben up and down with a scowl that suggested he’d sized up his opponent and found him wanting. A terrific way to start a meeting. “What is this about?”
Ben had heard the deputy appreciated facts, so he got right to them. “Steve Wasserman was murdered today.”
Leaning back in his leather chair, the deputy’s laserlike stare zeroed in on Ben. With an elbow on the armrest and a pen flipping between his fingers, he frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Ben stepped up and slid a file across the man’s desk. When the deputy kept staring, Ben launched into an oral briefing. “You knew him at the Naval Academy in the mid-eighties.”
“I’m aware of when I graduated. Get to the point.”
“Wasserman was one of the witnesses on Coughlin’s security-clearance interview list.”
And that was the problem. Martin Coughlin was Worth’s old friend and choice for appointment as the NCIS’s senior intelligence officer. The deputy had pushed for Martin and insisted the security-clearance steps be fast-forwarded. Martin had been in the office as recently as two days ago to talk about the position.
The tap, tap, tapping of the pen continued. “Are you asking to investigate this matter?”
“Yes, sir.” Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot because this guy’s intense stare had the power to make you question everything. “There are some jurisdictional issues, but the matter is delicate. We should handle it internally.”
The deputy stared for what felt like a full minute then nodded. “Do it. I’ll pull the necessary strings. Is there anything else?”
“The case is unusual in that Wasserman volunteered to talk as part of Coughlin’s security-clearance investigation. And, in general, there are suspicious circumstances surrounding the death.”
The pen stopped waving. With careful precision, the deputy set it on top of his stack of files. “Isn’t that always the case with murder? I mean, was the killer hovering over the body?”
“No, sir,” Wayne said from his position just inside the office door.
The deputy never broke eye contact with Ben. “Then, while the death is sad, I’m still not seeing the problem. Investigate and report back.”
Ben waited until the deputy reached for the papers in a classic we’re-done-here signal. Ben couldn’t back down because he needed the guy’s attention and was determined to get it. “There is a bigger issue.”
“Unless Coughlin is too distraught to go forward with the appointment as a result of this, and I doubt that since I’ve known the man forever, you’ve lost me.” The deputy’s voice changed, now monotone and more than a little bored.
“A woman was there—”
The deputy swore under his breath. “You’re saying this is a sex scandal?”
“The problem is the murder occurred while the female investigator was there to talk with Wasserman about Coughlin.”
“Was she hurt?” the deputy asked.
“She’s gone.”
His frown returned. “Gone where?”
“Disappeared.”
“Now I’m starting to see the problem. We have a dead lieutenant commander, a missing investigator and a potential NCIS appointment at the center of it all.” The deputy exhaled long and hard. “Is there any evidence Coughlin is involved?”
Ben couldn’t answer that, and that was the problem. “I don’t know anything yet.”
“Get to work. Talk to everyone associated with this woman and Wasserman. And find her. I want a preliminary briefing tomorrow.”
Ben had no idea how to accomplish all of that in such a short time. He’d need manpower. “My team and I will—”
“Wrong.”
“Sir?”
“Just you. You need to draw a circle around this. Keep the information contained until we know what we’re dealing with. The death will be on the news, but right now it is an unfortunate death of a naval officer living in a very dangerous city. Nothing more, and Wayne will see that it stays that way.” The deputy stared at Wayne until he nodded. “Everyone get to work. Time is of the essence.”
After the deputy had rattled off his orders, he returned to the files on his desk. That fit with the reputation—rapid-fire action. You got his attention for a few minutes only, but when you had it, you had to use it.
Wayne motioned for Ben to leave.
In a daze, he walked across the floor. This was against protocol and common sense. He understood the political ramifications: the deputy and Martin were friends. Still, as a one-man job this task seemed doomed to fail.
Maybe that was the point.
Ben shook his head. No, this one had landed on his desk. Somehow he’d manage to get enough preliminary information to request more help, but until then, sleep would be elusive, if not impossible.
The door had barely closed when Ben heard mumbling on the other side. He thought he heard the words “watch him” but couldn’t be sure. To be safe, Ben would cover his tracks. No way was he losing his career and all he’d worked for over Steve Wasserman.
Chapter Six
Lara stood at the railing on the back deck and watched the last of the sun’s rays skim the water and dip into the horizon. The sky was on fire with a burst of orange and bright pink.
The sounds of the marina filled the quiet night. Boats swayed and bobbed, and metal clanked against metal on the sailboats. A few rows over people laughed as they sat out on their decks and enjoyed the summer night.
Despite the danger swirling around, being outside made her smile. It was inside that was the problem. The boat had a claustrophobic kitchenette and a bedroom that consisted of a mattress specially designed to fit under the front end of the boat. She didn’t know much about sailing, but she knew about being sick, and staying down there, all closed in, almost guaranteed it.
To be safe she’d nibbled on the bread from her sandwich for dinner and skipped everything else. She wasn’t hungry anyway. Her life had tilted and she was barely hanging on the side. Dead men at her feet and police buzzing around her life. It was all too much.
“You hiding from your former fiancé?” Pax came up beside her and assumed a stance that mirrored hers.
The comment was right, in part. After spending a short time with Davis, they’d morphed right back into old couple patterns. He’d stepped into the role of rescuer and didn’t think twice about bossing her around using the “it’s for her own good” excuse he liked so much. Oh, he didn’t say it out loud this time around, which made her realize he had learned something during their time apart, but everything else felt strangely familiar.
He got near her and her heart tumbled. He kissed her and her brain spun with excitement. The attraction pulled between them as strong as ever. But loving him, wanting him, had never been the issue. Accepting everything else was.
“Thanks for bringing dinner,” she said, verbally pulling Pax in another conversation direction with all her might.
He laughed. “Changing the subject?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, getting here was no problem. I live nearby and was willing to use any excuse to see you.”
“Aren’t you the charmer?” She balanced her head against his shoulder and felt the firm muscles underneath.
Both brothers made her feel safe. With Pax the emotions never boiled and bubbled. If he ticked her off, she just rolled her eyes. And he’d never made her heart hammer, while Davis had that effect on her just by walking into a room.
She chalked all of that up to her buddy-type relationship with Pax. Amazing how taking the sexual attraction and romantic-love parts out of a relationship simplified everything.
Pax pulled back and looked her up and down. There was no heat, just a joking familiarity. “You look good. Always do.”
“Why hasn’t some woman snapped you up?” She knew the answer. Because he ran as fast as possible in the opposite direction whenever they tried to tell him their last names.
“I always said women were smarter than men.”
“No arguments here.” She watched the last of the orange streaks fade away into the dark sky.
The water stretched out in front of her in a vast nothingness. The waves she loved so much during the day took on a dangerous edge at night. That was a familiar theme in her life. Hours ago it looked a soothing, shiny blue. Now she only saw a deep, mysterious black.
They stood, soaking up the evening as dishes rattled below. A shadow moved around down there. She assumed Davis was cleaning up or maybe burning off some extra energy. He wasn’t really the type to hang out on a boat and do nothing. That was Pax’s thing.
Davis was constant motion, which was why she’d agreed to buy a fixer-upper with him. She’d figured he’d spend every extra hour making it shine. So when she had stepped inside earlier and seen boxes and blank walls, it surprised her.
She also knew from the way Pax tried hard not to say anything that something big rattled around in his head. The guy was like a little kid sometimes, nearly vibrating with excitement and the need to tell.
His determination only lasted a few more seconds. After a quick glance into the open doorway, he shifted to face her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Anything you need to tell me?”
“About?” But she knew. Pax wanted her with Davis. He never pretended otherwise. He’d called for weeks after they broke up, asking her to come back before Davis turned more miserable than anyone could handle.
“My eyesight works just fine, and what I walked in on didn’t look like two people happy not to be together.”
The kiss.
Yeah, she was still struggling to set that straight in her mind. She wanted to write it off as leftover attraction or a punch of adrenaline from the out-of-control day. To her soul, she feared it foreshadowed much more.
All these months she’d been trying to get over him and failing miserably. No other man even clicked on her radar.
“The problems haven’t changed,” she said. “Davis wants to be free to go all over the world, even if it scares me to death. On his list of priorities I’m near the bottom.”
And that was the insurmountable problem. When she’d needed him, lying in that hospital bed crying for him, he’d been across the country saving someone else’s fiancée.
“That’s not true, Lara.” All the amusement and laziness left Pax’s voice. “I was there. I saw what losing you did to him.”
“I lived it, Pax.” Pain swirled around her until she thought it would suck her down. She tightened her hold on the deck railing to keep from going under.
The silence stretched longer this time. She noticed for the first time that the radio played in the kitchen area.
She was about to break the tension when Pax spoke again. “Did he tell you about his last job?”
The question surprised her. Her mind went to the discolored skin around Davis’s middle and the way he grimaced when he lifted his arm too high. “You mean the rib injury?”
“I mean the reason for it.”
This was new. Pax rarely did an end run around his big brother. They were two years apart and had lived through being abandoned and passed around to relatives who only cared when they received a check from the state for the boys’ care. The dysfunctional upbringing and fighting to survive bound them together.
Their past also had forced Davis into a fatherly role before he’d hit his teens. Over time the relationship morphed to a more mutual one, likely because they’d worked together for most of their adult lives. It was a bond that grew out of respect and love, and neither brother tested it. But she sensed Pax was pushing the boundary by dropping hints about something he wanted her to know.
Picking her words carefully, she asked, “What are you trying to tell me by not telling me something?”
“That’s quite a sentence.”
Just like his brother. “Answer the question.”
Pax’s crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“There is nothing subtle about the Weeks boys.”
He winked at her. “On that note, I’m going to head out.”
She grabbed his arm before he could move an inch. “Without giving me an explanation?”
“Don’t give me that look. It says you are right on the edge of unloading on me, and I don’t want any part of that.”
“Then don’t evade.”
“We both know you’re talking to the wrong brother.” Pax called a goodbye to Davis then hit the ladder, but not before calling over his shoulder to her. “Good night.”
* * *
D
AVIS
WAITED
UNTIL
Pax left...then waited another ten minutes. He wasn’t a man accustomed to hanging around. Outside of work, patience wasn’t any kind of virtue that he could see.
Despite the uncharacteristic pacing, Lara’s head never peeked below to say hi. Even now he could look out the opening to the deck and see her sitting curled up on the back bench with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her cheek rested on her knees, and her head was turned to face the other boats in the row.
Enough with the hiding. He got the message. Hands off. If only his body would obey the order from his head.
He stepped out onto the deck, letting his sneakers thump against the floor so as not to scare her. “What are you doing out here?”
She didn’t even move. “Getting some fresh air.”
“It’s sticky as hell.” Though he doubted she felt it in that tiny shirt.
“I’m fine.”
He exhaled, but the growing case of male indignation was lost on her when she continued to stare out over the water. He dropped down on the other side of the bench with his thigh touching hers. A rush of relief poured through him when she didn’t pull away.
“I can control myself, you know.” The words were barely true, but he wasn’t an animal. He’d never forced a woman in his life, nor would he.
The idea she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her was like a sucker punch to the gut, but living without her was something he had been doing for months now. He could manage that and still keep her safe.
She slowly turned to face him. “What did you say?”
“That’s what this is, right? Stay away from the idiot male so he doesn’t jump on top of you.”
The marina light shone down next to the boat’s deck, casting the water around the boat in deep shadows. It was tough to make out much, but he could see her face. The frown was hard to miss.
Her legs slipped and her feet fell to the floor. “You’ve got this all wrong.”
“Look, I know I can be demanding in the bedroom, but I’m not a jerk.” He believed in monogamy and a healthy sex life, whether the relationship lasted a few days or a few weeks. With her, it had lasted almost two years and he was all in. He thought only of her, always of her.
“Your bedroom preferences aren’t relevant because we’re not together.”
The words sliced through him, but he refused to let the wound show. “I’m not sure that matters for us. Bed is the one place we’ve always communicated just fine.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s been a long, crappy day. You had two men die at your feet and are still standing. I’m really impressed. Everything about you makes me proud, but I won’t pretend I don’t want you.”
Her eyes widened to the point of popping. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”
“The wanting thing? Uh, I don’t think so.” He was pretty sure he’d said it several times tonight.
And there was no way she couldn’t know. People who passed them on the street and had never met them knew. Hell, Mrs. Winston saw them together for two minutes, not touching, and got the point.
“Not that.” Lara waved a hand in the air before putting it on his knee. “The impressed part.”
He stared at her fingers. Looked at her hand where it flexed against his leg and felt his frustrations drain out of him. Without thinking about it, her inclination was to touch him. He didn’t know what that meant, but it gave him hope again.
All those calls the first few weeks after the breakup had gone unanswered. The visits where she wouldn’t open the door. He’d stopped because he refused to be a stalker and would not beg a woman who wanted him gone.
Now he wondered if he’d given in too soon.
“That’s not true. I know I told you that before.” When she shot him a nice-try look he searched for an example in his memory. Nothing came to him. “Then I am a jerk.”
“Let’s agree you have had a few jerklike moments.”
Not good enough. He wasn’t going to let her give him a way out with a joke. This was too important. She was too important.
He slipped his fingers through hers and willed her to believe. “Honey, I’m proud of you every single day. You’re strong and independent, and don’t get me started on how beautiful you are. Just looking at you makes me hard.”
She leaned into him. “Sweet talker.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers. The soft skin drove him wild, but he needed to prove something to her. “I can sleep up here if that makes you more comfortable. You take the bed.”
“Being out here really isn’t about you.”
“Lara—”
She squeezed his hand. “Davis, listen to me. It’s not you.”
He wanted to shrug but couldn’t get his shoulders to move and fake the gesture. “Feels like it is.”
“I’m sick.”
“Wait, what?”
“Sick.”
The lightbulb didn’t just go on in his head, it exploded to life. He should have thought that through. She wasn’t used to death. The usual bad guys in her life consisted of losers in the grocery store or those boring attorneys she used to work with, including the one partner who’d made a pass and almost had Davis’s fist shoved down his throat in response. Contract killers were at a whole different level.
“It’s probably a reaction,” he explained.
“Yeah, to the boat.”
“What?”
She tucked her face into the space between his shoulder and his neck. “I’m seasick. When you broke out the peanut butter, I thought I was going to hurl.”
The information bounced around his mind. “Like that one time we went boating?”
“Exactly like that, complete with rolling stomach.”
“But that was a weird circumstance. You don’t usually get sick.” He pulled back and cupped her chin in his hand.
“Not if I’m on dry land.”
He laughed but stopped after he saw her grumbly frown. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“You were in hottie-rescuer mode.”
He could live with that. “As if that’s ever stopped you before.”
“Honestly, I was willing to do anything if it meant I was safe and strange men stopped jumping out to kill me.”
“I can see that.” He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in as close as his bruised ribs would allow. He’d wrapped them earlier after Pax checked them out, but certain movements still had him hissing air through his teeth.
“So, I’ll sit here until the world stops spinning, which I’m hoping is soon or we’re going to see that bread I ate one more time.”
The words vibrated against his bare skin. “I’ll join you in sitting and just hope the rest calms down.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Maybe I want to.” His thumb slid into her hair. “Do you feel sick now?”
She looked up at him. “Are you about to make a pass?”