Delta Force Defender

by Carol Ericson

  They reached the door, and Cam pointed to a wedge jammed beneath the bottom of the door to prop it open.

  Martha tipped her head back and tugged on Cam’s sleeve. “Looks like he already disabled the camera.”

  Cam looked up and his brow creased. “He sprayed the lens. I guess that way it doesn’t look like the camera has been tampered with, as long as it cleans off.”

  “We’ll have to remind him to wipe it off.”

  Cam used his foot to push open the door, and Martha stepped inside the back hallway of the bar.

  She whispered Tony’s name.

  “He’s probably in the office.” Cam nudged her back, and she veered toward a closed door past the restrooms.

  “Tony?” She knocked, pressing her ear against the door.

  Cam stepped around her and opened the door, pushing it wide.

  The computer on the desk glowed, and Cam hunched over it. “Looks like he’s already been checking the security camera footage.”

  Martha backed up a step, one arm wrapped around her midsection. “Where is he? He should’ve heard us come in by now.”

  Cam reached into his pocket and Martha’s heart skipped a beat, knowing that’s where he’d stashed his gun.

  Cam waved her away from the door and he crept through it, squeezing past her.

  She followed him down the hallway to the bar...and then wished she hadn’t.

  Tony was still here all right—slumped at a table, his head resting in a pool of blood.

  Chapter Ten

  The floorboards creaked behind him, and Cam whipped around from Tony’s dead body, clutching his weapon.

  Martha gaped back at him, her face white and her mouth wide.

  “Get back. He’s dead.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Cam launched forward and ran down the hallway toward the back door, which they’d left propped open. He pulled it closed and locked it.

  When he returned to the bar, Martha was leaning over Tony, both hands over her mouth. If she got sick all over the body, they’d have more explaining to do than he was prepared for.

  “Martha, what are you doing?”

  “He left us a message.”

  “Tony?” He joined her at the table and then jerked back. Someone had written on the table in Tony’s blood: “Back off.”

  Martha stumbled back from the table, as if obeying the order written on it. “That’s for us. He knew. He knew about this meeting, or suspected it and was watching Tony.”

  Cam backtracked to the mahogany bar and peered over it at the register, gaping open. “He staged this as a burglary. Cleaned out the cash. He took care of the security cameras, too.”

  “And probably deleted the rest of the footage showing his meetings with Tony.”

  “We’re done here.” Cam leaned over the bar and grabbed a clean bar towel. “Did you touch anything at the table?”

  “God, no.” She shoved her hands in her pockets.

  “Then we need to clean off our prints in the office—on the door and the computer keyboard—and at the back door. At least our images won’t be on security footage, either.”

  As he made for the office, Martha grabbed his back pocket. “You mean we’re going to just leave him here without calling the police?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “And how would that story go? We came here after hours to meet with Tony and get a look at security footage of his meeting with a man who knows you stole classified emails from your employer—the CIA?”

  She sagged against the wall outside the office. “That’s the problem with lying, isn’t it? It never stops. You have to tell more and more lies to cover up the previous lies.”

  “I’d lie to hell and back to protect you, Martha. You don’t need to get in trouble for something you did that felt right at the time.”

  “I guess that’s what my father would’ve said. It felt right at the time. Your father, too.”

  He ran the towel across the computer’s keyboard. “What we’re doing doesn’t compare to what our fathers did. Not even close. You sensed something was off about those emails—and you were right—but nobody believed you. You just took matters into your own hands.”

  “And made a mess of things.”

  Cam wiped down the front of the door and then, with the towel in his hand, closed it and finished off with the doorknob. “By keeping those emails, you forced Ben out into the open. He’s running scared. If you hadn’t stored those messages on a flash drive, Ben would’ve been home free.”

  “He might not have killed Wentworth, Casey and Tony though.”

  “Really?” Cam got to work on the back door, deleting their after-hours visit. “I think he would have. He didn’t want to leave any witnesses.”

  “So we just leave Tony like this?”

  “Nothing we can do for him now. He was playing with fire, and he knew it.”

  She tipped her head down the hallway. “What about the message on the table? Should we wipe that off?”

  “Let the cops puzzle it out. If we wipe it up, the police are going to be able to tell something was there. Why would a killer wipe up his victim’s blood?”

  Cam shoved the block of wood beneath the door with his foot to prop it open again, leaving everything as they’d found it when they arrived. “Now we just have to hope nobody saw us go in here.”

  “I was watching.” Martha pulled her keys from her purse. “Nobody saw us.”

  They slipped into the alley, and Cam did a quick survey of the surrounding businesses. “I’m pretty sure Tony’s killer took care of the other cameras in this alley that would have a shot at the Insider’s back door.”

  “He’s protecting us at the same time he’s protecting himself.” Martha sidled along the back wall of the building for good measure.

  When they got to the street with the car, they ducked inside, just a couple of late-night bar-hoppers along with other stragglers on the sidewalk “This is going to be all over the news tomorrow. Do you think the police will make the connection between Casey and Tony?”

  “They’re going to look at him more closely because of that message, but I don’t know why they’d connect him to Casey. As far as the cops are concerned, Casey’s death is a suicide and they don’t seem to be going through her contacts.” Martha put the car in gear and eased away from the curb.

  “They might be going through the contacts of her burner phone—if they had it.”

  She pulled around the corner, checking the rearview mirror. “And you’re thinking if Ben had that phone, he wouldn’t be running around murdering people and sending me warnings?”

  “Oh, he still would’ve murdered Tony because he had access to that footage showing Ben meeting with him and Casey in the Insider.”

  “He obviously didn’t think that footage was important enough to kill for—until we showed up. He must be following us. He knew we’d paid a visit to Tony.”

  “He could’ve been watching Tony. Where are you going?”

  “To drop you off at your hotel.”

  “If you think I’m letting you go back to your mother’s place alone tonight, you’re crazy. I’m camping out on that ritzy sofa in the living room.”

  Cam could just make out the pink tint to Martha’s cheek. She wanted him there. Maybe she even wanted him.

  “Okay. Th-that actually makes me feel better, safer. If he thinks I have something he wants, who knows what lengths he’s willing to go to get it?”

  “And if it’s that phone, it could blow his cover if Casey has texts with him on there.”

  “If his phone is a temp, too, how is Casey’s phone going to incriminate him?”

  “There could be ways to track those phones. Just the fact that Casey might have texts giving her instructions on what to do about Wentworth would be huge, especi
ally if those instructions mention Denver and our assignments.”

  Her hand slid from the steering wheel and dropped to his thigh. “That might not be enough to clear his name. There’s more evidence against him than what was uncovered as a result of those damned messages.”

  “I know that, but it’s a start. If bogus, planted emails initiated the entire investigation, it’ll cast suspicions over the rest of the so-called evidence.”

  “You’ll never give it up, will you? Major Denver means that much to you?”

  “Everything.” Cam closed his eyes as a sharp pain pierced his gut.

  The pressure of Martha’s hand on his leg soothed his hurt and frustration.

  “I understand.” Her whispered words floated toward him. “When my father first came under investigation, I believed with all my heart that he was innocent. I was willing to do anything to prove it. I think that’s why he finally admitted his guilt.”

  “Why?”

  “He couldn’t stand to see my vehemence in his defense when he knew it was all a lie.”

  Her voice broke, and he covered her hand with his—the soothed become the soother.

  “He loved you though, despite his shortcomings.” He traced the tips of her fingers, outlining her hand. “And you love him, despite your disappointment in him.”

  She sniffled. “I tried to hate him, but I didn’t have it in me.”

  “He made a big, big mistake and he’s paying for it. Don’t charge him an even bigger price by withdrawing your love from him.”

  Her head jerked toward him and then back to the road. “You wouldn’t be so forgiving of your father, would you?”

  “Two different situations.” He rubbed a circle in the condensation on the window with his fist. “Your father did what he did out of greed. Sure, he wasn’t thinking of the consequences to his family, but he never stopped loving or caring for that family. My father didn’t give a damn about my mother or me and my sister.”

  “I guess.” She slid her hand from beneath his and wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel. “Totally different situation between my father and Major Denver, too. You’re convinced he’s innocent.”

  “Absolutely.” He smacked a hand against his thigh. “He’s being set up, and we’re going to figure out by who and why.”

  “We?”

  “The rest of our Delta Force team. Most of us don’t believe the charges against him, and we’ve made a pact to clear his name.”

  “Then I’m glad to be part of that. If my father isn’t deserving of my efforts, I believe you when you say Major Denver is.”

  They drove the rest of the way back to Martha’s mother’s house in silence, his thoughts on his good-for-nothing father and hers probably on her own father—two men who couldn’t be more dissimilar, from two different sides of the tracks, but who’d both made bad choices that ultimately hurt their families.

  If he ever got the opportunity to be a father, he’d do things differently, but he’d need a partner who could tame him. He slid a sidelong glance at Martha’s profile, her pert nose and wide mouth, giving her a look of innocence. Maybe her sweet expression gave people the impression they could take advantage of her.

  She pulled into her mother’s driveway and cut the engine. “We should’ve stopped by your hotel so you could pick up some of your things. My mom has plenty of extra toothbrushes and toiletries, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to wear any of my dad’s clothes now that orange is his new black.”

  “Probably not, but I’ll take the toothbrush.”

  While she disarmed the alarm system and unlocked the door, Cam faced outward, his muscles tense. He’d made sure they weren’t followed from the bar, but he’d bet Ben knew about Martha’s mom’s house out here on the bay.

  Martha pushed open the door, and Cam followed her inside, close on her heels. She locked up from the inside and entered the alarm’s code.

  She tossed her purse and coat onto the nearest chair and covered her face with both hands.

  “You okay?” Cam stroked her back, which arched slightly like a satisfied cat’s.

  “It’s been a long, long day.” Her hands moved from her face through the coffee-colored strands of her hair. “I can’t believe we were so close to getting a look at Casey’s contact and to have it all end in Tony’s gruesome murder. I’d never seen a dead body before in my life, and I just chalked up three. How is that possible?”

  “I know.” He touched her arm. In fact, he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. “I’m sorry you had to see any of it, but I’m glad you’re still safe.”

  She turned wide eyes on him. “For how much longer? He’s looking for something of Casey’s, and he wants to find it before I do. If he doesn’t, he may just be satisfied with making sure I never find it either, and the only way to do that is by making sure I meet the same fate as Wentworth, Casey and Tony.”

  “Do you think I’m gonna let that happen?” He gripped her shoulders.

  “You do have a life, a job, outside of saving Major Denver.” She dropped her gaze. “Saving me.”

  “Not yet. We have time. We’re going to find what this guy’s looking for, and we’re going to implicate him. I’ll be here for you, Martha.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand. “Are you saving me because you can’t save him, Cam? Or is saving me mixed up in your mind with saving him?”

  “What does that mean?” He stepped back. “Do you think you’re some sort of substitute for Denver?”

  She raised her shoulders, rolling them at the same time, dislodging his hands. “If you could prove his innocence tomorrow in some other place, with someone else’s help, wouldn’t you?”

  His brows shot up. “And leave you? Leave you in this situation without protection?”

  Her chin began to dip, and he pinched it and tilted her head back.

  “I want to help Denver. That’s why I came out here in the first place, but you’re my first priority now, Martha.”

  A tear danced on the ends of her long lashes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s first priority before.”

  His hand slid along her jaw, and he captured her earlobe between his fingers. “I may not be the brightest guy in the world, but I know a precious gem when I see it.”

  She blinked, dislodging the tear, which splashed on the back of his hand. “Some of the brightest guys in the world don’t have kind hearts like yours.”

  The side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

  Crossing one hand over the other, she pressed them against his chest. “That’s because you’ve never bothered to let anyone in before. Too busy being the big, macho lug.”

  His heart thundered under the pressure of her hands, and he expanded his chest. “You found me out.”

  She looked around, as if aware of her surroundings for the first time. “Why are we still standing here in the entryway? It’s almost dawn.”

  “Good thing neither of us has a job to go to.” A slow pulse beat in his throat as he looked down into Martha’s face. He just needed some sign from her. Anything they did had to originate from her desire. He had to avoid even a hint of coercion or persuasion.

  Her gaze meandered to his mouth, as her own lips parted and her fingertips curled into the material of his shirt.

  He brushed a kiss across her forehead, and she sighed, dropping her shoulders. His next kiss landed on her cheekbone.

  This time she shifted from one foot to the other, moving closer so that the tips of her breasts made contact with his chest.

  He swallowed. “Do you want to sit down?”

  She rested her forehead on his collarbone. “I want to go to bed—with you.”

  Her simple request lit a fire in his belly, and he pulled her against his body, wrapping his ar
ms around her waist and resting his cheek against the top of her head.

  “I want that, too.” As he spoke, the stubble on his chin caught the wavy strands of her hair. This slow burn between them made him harder than if she’d ripped his clothes off.

  “Shouldn’t we make a move upstairs?” She pulled away from him, but they were still connected through her wisps of hair that clung to his chin.

  That’s how he felt with Martha—connected—as if she always had some hold on a part of him.

  * * *

  MARTHA’S STOMACH DROPPED. Cam didn’t really want her. He was being polite...too damned polite. She turned away from him quickly and stumbled on the first step of the staircase, grabbing the bannister.

  He caught her around the waist, more to steady her than make a move on her. “H-have you changed your mind?”

  “No, but I think you have.” She broke away from him and charged up the stairs.

  His footsteps pounded behind her. She felt the air at her back as he made a swipe at her blouse, and she took the next set of steps two at a time.

  “Martha, wait.” This time he grabbed her swinging arm and pulled her down one step. “What did I do wrong?”

  Her whiskey eyes flashed at him. “I just told you I wanted to go to bed with you. Maybe it was clumsy or whatever. Maybe I should’ve batted my lashes and swiveled my nonexistent hips, but I thought it was pretty direct.”

  A slow flush crawled up his neck. “And I thought my answer was direct. It’s what I want, too.”

  “But then you—” she wrinkled her nose “—you hugged me, put your cheek on my hair. Comforted me.”

  “So.” He spread his hands and hunched his shoulders. “What does that mean? We just came from a murder scene. I figured you needed some comfort.”

  She bit her bottom lip. What did it mean? It had felt...brotherly. She was done being everyone’s favorite little sister.

  “It’s just not the reaction I expected after telling you I wanted to sleep with you.”

  “What did you expect?” Cam leaned against the bannister as if waiting for a long, drawn-out explanation.

  “I expected you to j-jump my bones. Rip my clothes off.” A hurt little bark escaped from her throat. “I guess I just don’t inspire that kind of passion.”