Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (16 page)

“Grimes gave me the keys to one of his cars.”

“Wait, let me come out.”

“No, take your time.” She needed to relax. And sleep. He could use some sleep, too. “We can talk after you’re done, or even in the morning. I’ll crash on your sofa.” Where he could monitor her front door and the sliding glass doors in back. So she’d be out of his reach...
You don’t want to behave nicely. You want to...

“No!”

“No what?” Joy stood in front of him, wearing a thick robe. Her face was obscured in shadow; the bathroom light behind her was the only source of brightness in the entire room.

“No, as in ‘no, I don’t want to interrupt your routine.’”

She smelled pretty and fresh, just like the Navy lieutenant commander he’d originally met in Gitmo. No matter how starched her collars had been, her scent was never less than utterly feminine.

The woman standing there—this was the Joy he’d imagined asking for a date. Before he’d unleashed the hounds of hell...

“This isn’t my routine, Ivy. I usually brush my teeth and wash my face around nine. Then I’m asleep by ten.” She was guarding herself from him. Part of her defensive posture had always been to call him “Ivy.”

“Hell, I didn’t know the Boat School’s routine was still imprinted on you.”

She smirked; Boat School was slang for the US Naval Academy.

“Not all of us are almost-PhDs.”

She slipped back into the banter that had helped them lighten their load in Norfolk. They’d needed to relieve the pressure when they’d had military and political heavyweights breathing down their necks during Farid’s case.

He knew how he’d dreamed of relieving that stress, and how he’d like to dispel the tension that pressed in on them now.

“Joy—”

“Let’s go to the kitchen.” She walked past him, into the hallway. Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe. She wanted the same thing he did, but she’d decided it couldn’t happen. And her decision was the sanest option.

“Good idea,” he said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
EN
MINUTES
LATER
they had Irish coffees in front of them. The light over the stove threw long shadows and accentuated the dark smudges under her eyes. He hated being the cause of it.

“Don’t you need to sleep before work tomorrow?” he asked.

“I will. The coffee is decaf. And there’s only a small amount of sugar in the whipped cream. Why don’t we go into the sunroom and watch the water in the moonlight?”

He nodded, pointing at her drink as he stood up. “You never struck me as a whiskey girl.”

“I’m not. Unless it’s mixed into this or hot chocolate in the middle of winter.” They sat down on her rattan sofa with its floral pillows. Brad recognized the style from several detachments that had routed him through Hawaii.

“Did you get a lot of your furniture overseas?”

“Enough of it. Especially once I started to think about getting out and settling down.”

“You don’t think you’ll
ever
miss the moving? Being in new locations?”

“Nope. It’s hard to believe for a lifer like you, I’m sure, but I’m done with the constant change. I’ll get my excitement through work. I’m especially interested in family law—that means a lot to me. And so does having a place to finally call home.”

“I’m not a
lifer
,
either, Joy. I got out, too. Remember?”

“You’ve stayed reserves, and you’re still in a business that’ll move you around quite a bit.”

“If you’re so happy to have gotten out of the Navy, why do you sound wistful about it?”

“You’re hearing my exhaustion from the last two days. I’m tired, Brad. No complaining, but it’s been kind of a stretch, starting a new job
and
trying to save your life.”

Her tone was light, and he could tell she didn’t want him to know how much of a burden his situation had placed on her.

“I’m sorry about that, Joy. I mean it.” He took a large gulp from his mug, wishing he could have the whiskey full strength.

“Stop saying that. It’s not your fault that some psychos decided to smuggle in a SAM. Now they might want to kill you or hurt innocent civilians.”

“Not on my watch.”

“Or mine.” She sipped her coffee. “My knitting group was all abuzz about it.”

“Your knitting group. I thought you were at a book signing.”

“Yes, I mentioned it earlier. Knitting’s not just for grandmas, you know.”

“Go on.”

“As a matter of fact, there are a number of active-duty sailors and spouses in the group. Many have graduate degrees, and one even has a doctorate. Two of us are lawyers. Two more are—wait for it—men!”

“Hey, you proved your point. I’ve obviously been living under a rock.” He grinned then asked in a more serious tone, “What were they saying about the explosion?”

“Mostly the comments you’d expect—that they hope the NCIS and FBI get the bastards behind it. That they hope it was really an accident and the boat blew up because of faulty wiring or some other problem. That they’re all happy no one’s been hurt...yet. They’re Navy. They know that the base, their loved ones, the aircraft they fly and ships they drive are always targets. They want the reasons for what happened and the people responsible in custody.”

“What’s their consensus? About who might be guilty and why.”

She sipped more coffee before she answered. She squared her shoulders, and he saw her turn toward him in the dim light.

“Most of them think it was terrorist related. Some kind of a warning. It’s hard not to, when it happened in the middle of a big Fleet exercise. Navy, and military, families are more attuned to this sort of thing. I don’t have to tell you that.”

His jaw tightened. “They’re right. These guys don’t do anything without goals and real deliberation.”

“No, they don’t. They’re not the only ones capable of purposeful action, however. We’re better than they are by a long shot. They had the benefit of surprise with the SAM, that’s it. You were in deep in their cell, ready to break them apart. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Brad, trust me.”

He did trust her. Implicitly.

He knew she trusted him, too. He wasn’t sure why, and yet she’d never doubted him. When they worked on Farid’s testimony she’d held her judgment in reserve until she got to know him, but she’d never treated him with anything less than respect. Nor did she consider any of the negative press about him to be true. They’d skewered him for testifying in favor of releasing a known terrorist suspect. These attacks by certain elements of the media had been anonymous, since the Navy had protected his identity, but the story got out nonetheless.

“You need to make sure you can trust me,” he said. He saw her shake her head dismissively.

“Already covered this, Ivy.”

“So tell me what you’re thinking about all of this.”

She was silent for so long that he wondered if the Irish coffee was kicking in and she was starting to drift off. Then she moved, tucking her foot beneath her and leaning her head on the back of the sofa.

“I think General Grimes is right. This goes back to someone who’s out for revenge and is using the domestic cell to do it. It might be someone Farid knew, or even his family.”

“Go on.”

“Grimes was there, in Afghanistan, when you were, Brad. He had every opportunity to interact with all types of village leaders and Afghan tribesmen. He saw Farid’s village just like you did. Many of the villagers, if not all, hold us responsible for the atrocities the Taliban committed. It’s how the bad guys maintain control over there. They blame the US and our allies.” She paused. “You know that even better than I do.”

“Yeah. But let me tell you, Grimes is a straight arrow. He may be a son of a bitch to work for, but he’s solid. He told me more after you left. He thinks looking into the events and persons related to Farid’s village is the way to go. His opinion is that it has to happen at a higher level than the FBI.”

He heard her laughter in the darkened space between them and closed his eyes, savoring the sweet sound. He loved it when he made her laugh.

“Of course he did.” She decided to make her confession. “I feel guilty admitting that I checked out his background, looking for terrorist motives.”

“You were being thorough. No need for guilt.”

“I suppose.”

“His wife died very young.”

“How do you know that?”

Satisfaction warmed him. He actually had more information on Grimes than she did—a first.

“I know more than you give me credit for.” He related what Grimes had shared.

“General Grimes told me why he never remarried. He had the love of his life years ago and didn’t want to put another woman at risk of being tossed about by his Marine Corps career.”

“More like he didn’t want to risk losing someone he loved again.”

“Rewrite it however you’d like to, but he’s on our side. He has a daughter he raised almost single-handedly, too.”

“Maybe he came to Whidbey to find love, now that he’s retired. There are plenty of single women his age in this area.”

“I never pegged you as a romantic, Joy.”

“You’ve only seen my JAG side, Ivy. Besides, it’s not something we ever talked about before.”

“No, I suppose we didn’t.” They’d rarely strayed from the business at hand. Their brief forays into kidding around had been to relieve stress; that was all.

And the kisses?

“I can’t believe he gave you his car.”

He was really tired of talking about General Grimes. In fact, he was tired of anything related to his work. He wanted—no, needed—to know more about Joy.

“Yes, he did. His Jeep. It was generous and trusting of him.”

At her silence, he turned toward her. “Enough about General Grimes. What about you, Joy? What do you do besides knit?”

“I enjoy day trips off the island. British Columbia, Seattle.”

“Do you go up to Canada a lot?” Canada was only two hours from Whidbey, a straight shot to Vancouver.

“I’ve taken the ferry to Victoria a couple of times, and I went on a knitting-skiing retreat to Whistler last fall. Because of the early winter, we were able to ski, and there’s an indoor ice-skating rink.”

“I’ve heard Whistler’s beautiful.” Talking to her about anything ordinary felt indulgent and...right. Joy was the best company he’d kept in years, maybe ever.

“Yeah, it is. So you haven’t been up there yet?” Was that an accusatory tone? Or did she think he was a dumb guy who didn’t do anything other than work and play video games?

“I’ve only been in Seattle for a few months.”

“And most of that time’s been undercover.”

“Yes. That’s why I didn’t call you sooner, Joy. I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay, Brad.”

She didn’t elaborate, but that was just as well. The more he found out about Joy Alexander, the more he questioned his decision to remain single.

Then he remembered that anyone he showed the slightest interest in could get hurt...

* * *

J
OY
COULD
’
VE
SAT
in the sunroom—which she’d decided to rename the moon room—with Brad all night and into the sunrise. It felt so natural to be around him, with him, next to him. His male scent was becoming so familiar again, so appealing, she wondered how she’d live without it once he was gone.

The fact that he believed she’d be able to solve his case for him at once overwhelmed and honored her to the point of tears.

Tears she used the edge of her terry robe to wipe away, grateful for the darkness that hid her sentimentality.

Why couldn’t she be more relaxed, more easygoing, and have sex with Brad to get him out of her system?

Because it would never be only sex. Not for her.

Not with him.

“What’s bothering you, Joy?”

“I really thought we might find something on Grimes,” she said with a shrug.

“But he doesn’t even have a motive.”

She punched his shoulder lightly. “Gee, Ivy, you make me think you should’ve gone to law school instead of the Bureau.”

“Hey, I’m a trained case agent. Plus, I like a good thriller novel on my days off.”

“Yes, but back to motive. General Grimes has had his share of run-ins with his superiors.”

“Who hasn’t? And in spite of all of it, the guy made three star. Pretty impressive.”

“He didn’t get offered a fourth star, or command of the Corps. And he wasn’t offered a shiny civilian job in DC.” She mentally reviewed the press releases she’d skimmed on Grimes.

“He was probably offered a slew of high-paying civilian jobs. He turned them down. A man like Grimes doesn’t care about the prestige or the money. I get that about him.”

“You think because I was JAG and female that I don’t get it, too? I went through plebe summer and the same kinds of training as my classmates who went Marine Corps. None of us are in the Navy or Marine Corps for the money.”

“Grimes told me he wasn’t interested in being a contractor. It means more to him that he can call his own shots on his own land. He couldn’t have done that if he had to work around all those bigwigs in DC. At the moment, though, I wish he was in DC instead of here. He’d be safer and easier to protect than out in his cabin. He’d also be in a position to get us the answers we need more quickly.”

“You have surveillance on his place.”

“Yes, but how long will he agree to that? You can imagine a Marine Corps general being told what he can and can’t do by a bunch of guys who could almost be his grandkids.”

“Sounds like you two have a bromance going. He confides in you, gives you his car...”

“Careful, Joy.”

She smiled, delighted by the low grumble of his voice.

“Anyway, when I was looking up stuff on him, I also found an old Op-Ed from the
Wall Street Journal
that described Grimes as an egomaniac who had zero tolerance for the current administration.”

“He’s in a big club, Joy. A lot of military don’t like it when the White House or Congress isn’t one hundred percent pro-defense establishment.”

“I don’t like how quick he was to try to pit your boss against you.”

Brad’s sigh revealed more than exhaustion. Revelation?

“Joy, let’s drop it. We have bigger fish to fry right now. You have to admit, you’re still resentful of how he treated you during the trial.”

“Yes, I suppose I am. Has it occurred to you that you might never find out who wanted to kill you?”

“I think it’s kind of obvious that it was the cell I infiltrated. My goal is to stay alive and pass enough information to my team to get them rounded up before they can do any more damage.”

“So those guards at General’s—do they know you’re undercover?”

“Not officially, no. No one knows, Joy. Only you and my boss. And I have no doubt that Mike knew I was still alive within seconds of us pulling up to General’s A-frame.”

A contemplative silence settled over them. Joy didn’t miss the fact that if they hadn’t been thrown together again, for the sake of doing the right thing for their country, this could be a very different time. A very different experience.

Her nipples hardened under her terry robe, and she bit back a curse. Some professional
she
was when she couldn’t keep her body from betraying her desire for Brad.

It’d been there since she’d met him, but their public workplaces and the knowledge that he was engaged, no matter how precariously, had extinguished her arousal.

Here they were, both supposedly free and alone—she naked under her robe. A robe that could hit the moon room’s tiles with one tug on her belt.

“Joy, don’t.”

“Don’t?” He had to feel her need, despite the near-darkness; she was barely containing it.

“Don’t second-guess this. We work well together. It can’t, shouldn’t, be more than that.” She heard the rasp of his clothing, felt his weight shift on the cushion.

“That’s pretty arrogant, Ivy, even for you.”

Did he hear her desire in every word?

“We’ve been through a lot together. Emotional entanglement isn’t something we want to add to the list.”

“It is risky, true. Just think, you could be in the throes of the greatest sex of your life and
bam
! A sniper takes you out.”