Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (17 page)

“Not funny, Joy.”

It wasn’t fair. Even as Brad turned her down, made sure she understood there’d never be anything physical, other than those kisses, he turned her on with the sexy growl in his voice.

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Look, I messed up. Kissing you—it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that, right?”

She stood up, needing to be anywhere but next to him on a couch in the dark. Where she could feel every move he made and his nearness increased the excruciating tension.

“Yes, you’re right. Of course.”

She sighed. She really, really didn’t want to make this any harder on herself. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, but her will was stronger.

“What is it, Joy? Tell me.”

“For the first time in my life I don’t know what my next move is. I don’t know what to tell you to do, either.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“I wish there was some way to get to Farid, to make sure he didn’t withhold something you could use now.”

“Already covered. If that information is available, it’ll be collected by a US Marshal. They’re the ones in charge of the WSP.”

“Gee, thanks for the explanation, Ivy. I figured as much. I’m ill-prepared to help you any further, other than telling you what I read in the case files, and then on the internet. I wasn’t Intel, and the attorney in me loathes going through personal information that’s truly none of my business.”

“Come here, Joy.” His tone indicated that his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Come. Here.”

She heard him pat the sofa cushion next to him.

“Brad...” She allowed herself to feel how exhausted she really was.

“I’m not going to kiss you. Promise.” Why not?

She took two short steps and lowered herself onto the sofa. Brad reached her waist and he pulled her down beside him.

She could feel the heat of his body through her terry robe. He might not want to kiss her but it didn’t matter who started it. Because
she
wanted to kiss
him
. Badly.

“Lean your head against me.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she put her head on his. After a few minutes she realized he was serious—this wasn’t going to be a lovemaking session.

“Brad? What exactly is this about?” Even as she tried to stir up the energy to confront him, her bones melted into his warmth. Brad’s sheer strength comforted her as nothing else could.

“We’re resting, Joy. Neither of us will get any sleep knowing the other one is near. We can’t have sex or we’ll ruin our wonderful working relationship. So let’s do the friendly thing and just be quiet for a bit. Rest.”

Really? Did he think she could sleep when her nerve endings tingled with awareness, and there were goose bumps on her arm where his breath blew across it? When his solid weight under her cheek made her crazy with wanting him?

She closed her eyes, knowing that sleep was impossible.

* * *

B
RAD
STRAIGHTENED
HIS
legs slowly as he woke from a wonderful power nap. He didn’t want to wake Joy—she needed the rest more than he did at this point. She had to pretend everything was normal and continue with her new job.

He loved the way she was leaning against him. She’d curled her legs under her so he eased her onto his lap, where he’d placed a pillow. He didn’t want her to wake up and think he was some kind of perv.

Long fingers of dawn began to streak across the sky and the sea, and he wondered if he’d ever seen such a beautiful start to the day. The reddish glow made him think of the old rhyme, “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.”

Storms seemed to be a way of life for him.

In this quiet, with a woman he cared about more than he’d ever planned to, the future seemed simple.

It was time to let go of his lifestyle and begin a new life without the encumbrances of working for the US Government as either a SEAL or an FBI agent. Time to give the younger generation a shot at these life-changing experiences. He’d outgrown the need for the constant adrenaline rush, the need to know that he was doing something that made a crucial difference to national security.

And Joy was right; he wasn’t responsible for Marci’s death. Her addiction had been her compulsion, and he’d been powerless over that. He hated it and would never understand it, but it was reality.

What he wasn’t powerless over was moving forward once he was free of this op. Did he want to even contemplate making a go of things with Joy? Would she be interested after he’d missed his earlier opportunities with her?

First, he had a case to close. He only hoped her heart wouldn’t be permanently shut by the time he did.

* * *

A
N
ACHE
IN
her shoulder woke her up, the same shoulder she’d messed up at the academy when she was on the rowing team. She’d leaned on it as she slept in Brad’s lap.

Brad’s lap.

She sat up.

“Easy. Bad dream?”

As her disorientation cleared, she realized that at some point she’d fallen asleep, daylight had emerged and Brad had put a pillow on his lap for her head. She was also covered with the ivory alpaca throw she’d knitted last winter.

Which was a good thing, since she was pretty sure she would have exposed her naked bottom to Brad otherwise. Her terry robe wasn’t that long.

“I was out cold.”

“You needed it.” His voice comforted her.

“Did you get any rest?”

“Some.”

“You should’ve left me here and stretched out in the guest room or on the living room sofa.”

“And miss that beautiful sunrise? No way. Besides, you didn’t sleep much longer than I did.”

As she remembered what lay ahead of her today, she sagged against the cushions. “I can’t believe I have to go to work for the third day pretending that there’s nothing going on in my life. That I’m not harboring a semi-fugitive.”

She turned. His face was too close to hers.

“I’m leaving today, Joy.”

“What?”

“I’m going. You won’t have to pretend anymore. Except for not mentioning that you ever saw me.”

“I don’t disagree that you have to get out of here. I’m just worried that a terrorist might still be after you. Do you have a plan?”

She was pushing it, asking Brad—a former SEAL, an undercover FBI agent—if he was prepared. She couldn’t help it.

“My plan’s the same as it always was. To get to the bottom of this. You never did tell me what you found in the notes. Have you had a chance to go through all of them yet?”

She was relieved that they were talking about the case again. Crucial, yes, but it was also a distraction from her feelings, her craving for him. That reprieve wouldn’t last, however, not as long as she stayed in this robe.

“Hold that thought. Let me go get dressed. Grab whatever you want from the kitchen, of course. You’ll still be here when I get back?”

“Yes. And, Joy? Thanks.”

She all but ran into her room, grateful to escape from his nearness.

There was no escaping her desire for him, though.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

B
RAD
SAT
ON
the sofa for a moment after Joy went to dress. He’d come so close to pulling her into his arms and picking up where their hallway kiss had left off.

He stood up and paced the sunroom. The longer he stayed here, the greater the chances that Joy would be targeted. But maybe what she said was true; whoever was after him might think he was dead—killed while taking out the SAM shooter—and had called off the search for him. There’d been no reports of any sightings of him from what he’d seen on TV and via the internet at General Grimes’s. Of course Grimes had seen him, but he trusted him implicitly. The general was as solid as they came.

It was past time to call Mike.

“Want some more coffee?” Joy’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts and he stopped pacing.

“Sure.”

“You’re pacing. What are you figuring out?”

He couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through him at her observation.

“Do you remember
everything
about me?” he asked.

She’d seen him pacing several times in Norfolk, during court recesses.

“I told you, I have an excellent memory. Better than I’d like to, believe me.”

He admired her figure in workout pants and some kind of fuzzy pink pullover. He’d imagined her naked countless times but more than that, he’d fantasized about her smile, her laughter, the sheer energy that had always flowed between them.

But he had to be certain—of her, of himself—before he got further involved with Joy.

He trailed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while she made coffee.

“I’m going to do a French press if that’s okay with you. If I make another pot of drip it’ll kill my stomach by the end of the day.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Her hand paused over the canister of beans, and the light glinted off the stainless steel measuring scoop. And, he could’ve sworn, off the steel glinting in the depths of her gaze.

“You’re hardly a beggar, Brad.”

She jammed the grinder shut, and the loud whir of the blades was followed by the unmistakable scent of freshly ground coffee.

His hands reached out for her before he could think about it. He kneaded her shoulders, small and firm beneath his palms. An affectionate gesture between friends.

Except, as a rule, friendly gestures didn’t make him hard.

He dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m happy with whatever you offer me, Joy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Apparently not.” The grinder whirred again.

“Don’t tell me you want to start a relationship with someone like me, in the middle of this mess?”

“No, no, I don’t. I moved here to get away from men of adventure and the constant feeling that whomever I was dating could be posted overseas at a moment’s notice. I want stability in my life, not a man who’s coming and going more than he can keep track of.”

She pressed down on the grinder again.

“You certainly deserve that, Joy,” he shouted over the blades. He meant what he said. So what if his stomach felt as if it was being crushed? He’d never be able to offer
her
what she wanted.

Not now.

“I do deserve it. Most definitely.” She didn’t sound so sure but he didn’t call her on it.

The refrigerator light illuminated the space between them as she reached for the creamer.

“Hazelnut okay?”

“I’ll take mine black. I didn’t think you ate or drank anything artificial.”

Back in Norfolk she’d eaten veggie wraps or salads at her desk, and appeared to snack only on healthy food. He’d hoped to take her out for a fancy meal in one of DC’s best restaurants after the case was closed.

Instead, he’d had to deal with the mess from Marci’s murder—the grief and the guilt, as well as the allegations—and focus on getting out of the Navy, beginning his new job.

By the time he was out of the Navy and settled in his new job with the FBI, it was too late. He couldn’t track Joy down for a date for more than a year after they’d said goodbye. At least not without some serious prep work, like emails and phone calls.

You managed to find her now
.

“I like to eat clean as much as possible, yes. But I have my vices, and hazelnut creamer happens to be one of them.”

“Do you like Nutella, too?”

“You mean because it’s hazelnut-flavored? Yes, I do. On toast. But all I have right now is peanut butter. Want some?” She pulled out a loaf of bread and popped two slices into the bright yellow toaster that sat on the counter.

“I’ll pass. I will take one of those yogurts you have, though.”

“Sure.” She took a single-serving Greek yogurt from the fridge and fished around in her silverware drawer for a spoon, which she handed to him. She was careful to hold the handle far enough so their fingers wouldn’t touch.

“It’s key lime. That’s the only one I buy except for plain.”

“Why am I not surprised? Tart with a little bit of sweetness.” Finding he was very hungry all of a sudden, he spooned a huge dollop of the yogurt into his mouth. The explosion of lime on his tongue reminded him of Joy’s perfume, which had citrusy undertones.

“There are eggs if you want to make yourself some. You need your protein, I’m sure. That little container of yogurt won’t tide you over until lunch...or later.”

“Ah, no, thanks. The yogurt is perfect.”

“But it’s not enough to hold anyone for a few hours, much less a day. You could be out for a long while...”

What she didn’t say, he surmised—hell, he’d lived it countless times. He could be without a decent place to stay, without fresh food, without a known end point to the day, much less the case.

“You’re right. I’ll take some of that bread when you’re done with the toaster.”

She took her toast to the table, leaving him with the toaster, the loaf of multigrain bread and a jar of peanut butter.

He’d just sat down with her when the doorbell sounded, followed by loud knocking.

She raised her eyebrows. “Expecting someone, Ivy?”

* * *

J
OY
OPENED
HER
door to a lone man on her front porch. She recognized him immediately. He was tall and a bit disheveled, but that didn’t detract from his good looks. She noticed the same wary watchfulness she’d grown used to with Brad. It was the SEAL training, she’d decided, that left a man with the ability to make you feel you’d just been scrutinized and assessed for your value as a warrior.

In one quick glance.

“Joy Alexander.”

“Nice to see you again, Agent Rubio.” They shook hands.

He kept it official as he flipped open his badge holder and held it at eye level. “Michael Rubio, FBI Agent and Brad’s immediate supervisor.”

“I told you I know who you are. Come on in.”

She turned and let him follow her in. There was nothing to lose at this point. If he’d brought a team of men to arrest Brad, she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

But she didn’t think he had. He’d come to talk to his friend.

“You have a guest, Brad.”

“Mike!” Brad crossed the floor and stopped in front of his former SEAL teammate.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I hoped I was wrong and I’m glad I am, but for a little while there, I was afraid you’d been blown up in a fishing boat, Iverson.”

Although Mike called Brad by his last name, the closeness of their bond was palpable. Mike’s joy at seeing Brad alive was reflected in the broad grin he flashed at his former SEAL teammate.

“I’m here, in one piece. Let me guess—you’re taking me in?”

Mike held his hands out in front of him. “Whoa, what? No way, man, I’m here to question Joy about what she witnessed during the explosion. But since you’re here, too, I may have some words for you.”

“I’ll bet. Do they have any resemblance to ‘you’re fired’?” Brad wasn’t backing down. He expected the worst.

“I’d hoped and prayed you were still alive. I really thought they might’ve gotten you this time, Brad. Until I got the call from the agents guarding General Grimes’s place. They mentioned seeing you. So as you can imagine, I’m pissed as hell at you. Why didn’t you call in?”

“You know damned well why I didn’t call in. I couldn’t risk it. And for the record, Grimes tried to implicate you in front of Joy and me.”

“He’s a Marine. What do you expect?”

They laughed at the inside joke. SEALs working a mission under a Marine commander they didn’t report to inevitably butted heads.

“Would you like some coffee, Agent Rubio?” Joy didn’t want to watch these men go at it without more caffeine in her system. She needed to remember every word that was about to be exchanged.

“No, thanks. I have a reusable cup in the car. And it’s Mike.”

“If you want to get your cup, I’ll put fresh coffee in it for you.”

“That’s okay, thanks.”

Her hospitality was lost on Mike, who continued to stare at Brad. “We need to talk, man. How about coming for a ride with me?”

“That sounds like an order,
boss
.”

“It is.”

“We’ll talk here,” Brad said pointedly. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs. “You can say whatever you need to in front of Joy. She’s my attorney.”

Brad and his boss glared at each other like gladiators preparing for a match.

“You don’t need a damned lawyer,” Mike said angrily. “Jeez, I kept you undercover for too long. You’re in too deep. You should’ve reported in, Brad.”

Brad shrugged. “I thought differently. It was hard to feel safe about anything after I saw that SAM in a boat right off the island. Right off American soil, damn it.”

“You weren’t the only one who was shocked by the SAM. Pieces of a SA-7 have been retrieved from the scene.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Mike. I couldn’t let a SAM go off.”

Mike Rubio sighed. “No, you couldn’t. You’re a hero, man. Thank God it was you out there and not a rookie.”

She’d been around enough military men in her career to know that combat bonds ran deep. Mike’s anger was natural, since he and Brad must have shared life-and-death situations. Worked up as Mike was, she understood that it came from his relief at finding Brad alive, mixed with anger that he hadn’t found out sooner.

Brad’s reaction, though—she couldn’t put her finger on it. He seemed upset with Mike. As if he blamed his boss for interrupting his operation.

“Talk to me, Brad. Tell me what you saw.”

“I’m not talking until you read me into whatever you know about the big bad guys behind all of this. What was I, Mike, chump for the terrorists? Was this the reason for all the fuss about ‘you’re the only man for the job’? Because I’m single and wouldn’t be leaving a family behind? Sure, call me a hero
now
.”

“That’s crazy talk, Brad.”

Problem was, Brad sounded awfully logical to her. Calm. Contained. Intelligent.

No wonder he was pissed at Mike.

“I’ll tell you what I know.” He looked at Joy. “I have a feeling you two have already figured most of it out.”

* * *

B
RAD
FELT
A
sense of dread in his gut. He hardly ever felt it, only when he thought he’d screwed up a mission beyond repair, which was just about never. Or when he believed he’d been duped, which rarely happened. He hadn’t felt this stunned, as if he’d been cold-cocked, since Marci’s death.

After several minutes of a one-way conversation, Mike concluded by saying that an unknown, missing suspect remained at large. And that person fit Farid’s profile.

“If you’d called in when you were supposed to, we might’ve worked this out sooner. We’re more than colleagues, Brad. We go beyond that. Why didn’t you call me?” Mike’s sincerity was apparent in the frustration on his face.

“My cell phone was compromised.”

“Bull.”

Yeah, Mike knew him well.

“I wanted to solve the case first. I didn’t want to call in until I had an answer for you. Now we both have the same answer. But I don’t agree with you that it’s Farid.”

“What’s rule number one, Brad?”

Brad shook his head. “No man is an island.”

“Exactly. You have a whole team working on this, and they’re just as capable as you are at digging for answers.”

“They’re not here. They weren’t with me out on the water.”

“Damn it, Brad! You know what I mean. Being undercover doesn’t give you a pass from basic protocol.”

“No, but being the op leader
did
give me an inside track. Unless you already had that, and were using me to prove your theory.” Brad’s eyes narrowed.

She forced herself to move from the counter to sit next to Brad at the table.

“Mike,” she said. “I worked with Brad at length in Norfolk.”

“I know that, Joy.” It was a little unsettling to wonder how much he and the FBI knew about her, but she couldn’t dwell on that.

“He trusted me to stay quiet about where he was, until I could get the notes from the court dockets on Farid’s case.”

“I remember that case, Joy. I was supposed to testify.”

He’d been out on a mission with his SEAL team and unable to make it back. He’d submitted a written statement.

“What you’re ignoring,” Rubio said, pointing at Brad, “is that there’s a terrorist on the loose out there. If he isn’t caught and shut down, NAS Whidbey, Port Everett and any other West Coast military facilities may get hit. I needed to know where you were so I could use you the most effectively.”

“Maybe if you’d cut me in on the background of the entire operation to start with, we’d have
all
our suspects in custody by now, and spec ops would have taken out the perpetrators overseas.”

Joy kept her expression as neutral as possible, but Brad’s comeback shocked her. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t have had all the information he needed to conduct his operation.

“You didn’t have a need to know everything, Brad.”

“Damn it, Mike, the rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Especially when one of your operatives is putting it all on the line for you.”

“Calm down, Brad. You’re right. I should’ve given you more information as the op went on. But would you rather have come in to get briefed or stayed in the field undercover?”