by Cat Johnson
"You're such a liar."
A short shocked laugh escaped Nick. He peered at his brother through his sunglasses. "What do you mean?"
Michael shook his head even as a small smile appeared. "It's okay. I understand. Super-secret SEAL stuff. I should be used to it by now."
"Michael, I really did strain my ACL on the obstacle course on base."
"Yup. I'm sure that's exactly what happened. There's no way you were anywhere near that bombing at the Kabul airport two days ago. Or with the president when he went to meet with the Saudi royal family last week."
It was so ridiculous that his brother didn't believe the truth, that all Nick could do was laugh.
He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "Man. I know I can't always tell you everything about where I am or what I'm doing, but this is the God's honest truth. I landed wrong and pulled something."
Looking solemn, Michael drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "I just hope, no matter what it was that really happened to you, you're going to recover from it."
"I told you what really happened to me." Seeing the skepticism in his brother's cocked brow, Nick stopped trying to convince him of the truth and said, "And yes, I will recover just fine. I'm supposed to wear the brace, keep it elevated when I can, and take it easy."
"For how long?" Michael asked.
"I have a follow-up visit in a few weeks. He'll know better than if I can go back to the team or if I'll need more time."
He'd been lucky. A tear might have required surgery and still could have kept him from ever going back to the team.
It was eye opening. He'd spent all of his adult life working toward one goal, first getting into the teams, then being the best team guy he could be. To have it all taken away from one small hurdle—literally—would kill him.
He'd faced missions with less trepidation than he'd faced the doctor’s verdict when Eric had brought him to Medical yesterday, covered in sweat and sand and trying to deny the pain in his knee.
"So three weeks off, huh? Have you ever had that much downtime since you enlisted?" Michael asked.
Nick snorted. "Nope. Hell, I only took three days official leave for your wedding."
"So what are you going to do with yourself?" his brother asked.
Nick glanced at the level of the beer left in his bottle. "Try not to get fat sitting around doing nothing but drinking beer with you for three weeks."
"Doesn't sound like much of a plan." Michael laughed.
It wasn't, and there was nothing Nick hated more than not having a plan, except maybe having nothing to do.
Maybe he could work out in water. Would swimming help or hurt his recovery? He'd have to ask.
"Well, I'm sorry whatever happened, happened," Michael said. "But I'm glad to have you around for a while."
Nick didn't bother correcting Michael again that there was no whatever about it. He’d already told his brother what really happened.
He knew a losing battle when he saw one so he just nodded. "Yeah, it'll be nice to hang out with you too." Except when Michael had to go to work Mondays through Fridays. Then Nick’s boredom would really set in.
The sound of the screen door sliding open drew Nick's attention as Jessica stepped out, phone pressed to her ear.
"So what are you going to do?" she asked whoever was on the phone.
She was silent for a bit but her deep frown revealed a lot.
Finally, she said, "Wow. That's just crazy. But the invitation is open if you can get away . . . Okay. Call and let me know what's going on . . . All right. Bye."
"What was that all about?" Michael asked his wife.
She lowered the phone. "That was Dani. You won't believe what's happening on set at that job of hers."
The mention of Dani's name caught Nick's attention. "What's going on?"
"One of the cast members is missing."
Michael laughed. "Did they check the bushes? The way they feed all those reality show contestants liquor, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the missing person is passed out under a bush somewhere."
"Let's hope not. They're staying at a house literally on the beach. What if the person drowned or something?" Jessica pointed out.
"Jesus. I didn't think of that." Michael shook his head. "So what are they going to do? You think it's on the news? We should turn on the TV."
Jessica blew out a loud breath. "That's the crazier part. The executive producer wants to keep it quiet."
“What the—” Nick blew out a cuss. "Why?"
"Don't know." Jess shrugged. “Who can figure out why those L.A. folks do what they do?”
Michael let out a snort. "They probably want to use it for a cliffhanger when airing the show or something. Those Hollywood people are nuts."
"My poor sister is going crazy. She said all sorts of shit is going wrong. A bunch of the girls almost had a fist fight this morning. Dani had to break it up. And that was before the bride went missing."
Michael shook his head. "No surprise. Those shows are orchestrated to be dramatic. It's no wonder things are blowing up."
"Yeah, you're right," Jessica agreed.
Nick considered barely a minute before he pulled out his cell and punched in a text. He might not always get along with Dani, but he understood handling extreme pressure, better than anyone else there.
NICK: Heard what's happening on the show. You OK?
DANI: HOW DID YOU HEAR?!
She even managed to yell at him over text. Smiling at the all caps, Nick punched in a reply.
NICK: I'm at Jess and Michael's.
DANI: Again?! Don't you ever work?
Another not so veiled slam against him via text message. She was good. Sparring with her by text was almost as much fun as doing it in person. Almost.
NICK: I got hurt. Out for a few weeks.
If she really disliked him as much as she pretended, that little bit of information should make her very happy.
DANI: Sorry. You OK?
A smile bowed his lips. So she didn't hate him so much after all.
NICK: I'll live. But out for 3 weeks. You didn't answer me. Are YOU OK?
DANI: Things are crazy. Don't know how to fix them. Not fired yet but . . .
NICK: Want some help there?
DANI: From you? No!
He smiled at the typical Dani response.
NICK: Will you accept help from me with the condition I acknowledge you don't want it?
It took a bit before the bubbles, and then her reply, appeared.
DANI: Maybe.
Wow. Things were bad if she would even consider letting him help her.
NICK: Where are you?
DANI: On set. The house where we're shooting.
NICK: Text me the address. I'll come to you.
He was honestly a little surprised when she texted back not with an argument or a snarky reply, but with the address.
The house wasn't too far away, but far enough. The zip code alone added a couple hundred grand to the price of real estate there.
From living in the area his entire life, he knew where Dani's show was filming was filled with privately owned beachfront houses. Not the bungalow-type dwellings you found in some of the communities in the suburbs around San Diego, but more of the mansion variety.
That didn't preclude crime in the area. In fact, it probably made attempted robberies more prevalent. But a missing person—that was serious.
NICK: Be there in twenty.
He shoved the cell back into the breast pocket of the button-down short-sleeved shirt he wore open over a tank top with shorts. Shorts were easier than trying to get pants over his knee brace.
If he wasn't going to be allowed to work out with the team, or do anything else, he might as well kick back and relax in casual wear.
He should enjoy this time off. So how come he was already itching for some action?
The good news was it looked as if he'd found some.
With a hand braced on each arm of the wooden deck chair, Nick ho
isted himself out of his seat without using his bad leg.
"I'm gonna go," he said, pausing to grab the empty beer bottle to take to the recycling bin in the kitchen.
"Go where?" Michael asked.
Not up for the line of questioning the truth would open, Nick said, "I'm just gonna meet up with one of the guys."
Maybe he did lie too much. He should probably forgive Michael for being a suspicious bastard even when he was telling the truth.
"There’s plenty for dinner, if you’re around later," Jessica said, moving to give him a quick hug goodbye.
"Thanks. I'm not sure what I'm doing yet. Can I let you know?" Nick asked.
"Of course." Jessica smiled, being sweet to him, as always.
That was another point of contention between him and Dani—his opinion of her sister.
He knew Jess and Dani had some real knockdown, drag-out fights between them. And he'd seen the results of Jessica showing her not-so-sweet side during fights with his brother over the years. But she was always nice to him, and if his calling Jessica sweet pissed off Dani, even better.
Michael took a few steps forward, taking the empty bottle from Nick. "I got that.
"Thanks." He refused to use a cane or crutches since the leg could bear weight, so he limped a few steps toward the house.
"Let me walk you out. Make sure you don't injure yourself stepping wrong off the front step or something." Michael rolled his eyes, clearly showing he still thought Nick was lying.
Guilt hit him over his most recent lie. Why didn't he tell the truth? That he was going to see Dani on set to try to help with this mystery of hers.
Maybe because he was lying to himself too. Because the last thing he wanted to admit to anyone, including himself, was that he liked her. He really liked her—the woman who almost never had anything nice to say to him.
He really was a glutton for punishment.
TEN
The fact she’d willingly accepted the offer from Nick, her arch nemesis, was a testament to how bad things were going on set. Or at least to how insane this show had made her.
But what else could she do? The producers hadn't even contacted the police yet.
Katia was missing, for God's sake.
The only thing Dani could do was turn to the only person she could trust—in spite of their past. The one person who actually had experience with shit like this, even if it was military and not law enforcement.
Yes, Nick was more likely to be looking for a terrorist in hiding than a missing bride, but hell, it was more experience than she had at this stuff, so . . .
"Hey." The deep voice had her spinning.
"Nick. I figured you'd text when you got here and I'd come get you. How did you get through the gate?"
He blew out a laugh. "You mean the unmanned gate with the lock on it that a child could open?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess that's the one." She dropped her gaze to the brace on the leg he was clearly favoring. "What happened to you?"
"Landed wrong on one of the obstacles on the course at the base. Strained my ACL."
She snorted. "Klutz."
The word had him breaking into a wide grin. "Yup. Can't argue with that. So, catch me up."
His gaze moved to the small groupings of cast members, reclining on outdoor furniture with drinks in their hands as they obsessively discussed the situation, for lack of anything helpful to do.
Production hadn’t stopped. The crew was on high alert, ready to catch it when—if—Katia came waltzing back to the house after sneaking off for a shopping spree or something.
"One of the cast members went to bed last night and wasn't there this morning," she explained.
A frown creased the brow above his eyes. Today, with him standing outside under the patio's awning with his sunglasses tucked into the neck of his tank-top, the blue of his eyes was tinged with a bit of a greenish-gold hue—because why shouldn't the damn man get even more handsome.
She scowled, hating her own boring brown eyes even more than usual.
"What about surveillance tapes? A house like this should have a security system. Was it on?"
She blew out a loud burst of air. "Who needs a security system? We've got cameras running twenty-four/seven in every room in the house except for the bathrooms."
"Jesus. That's crazy. And these people signed up for this?"
"Not only signed up. Almost a thousand people showed up for the casting call. They were dying to get on this show."
"Nuts."
"Yup." As much as she hated agreeing with him, she couldn't argue. He was right.
"So has someone reviewed what was shot last night?" he asked.
Dani lifted one shoulder. "Got me. I asked that and was told not to worry about it. And that I should go make sure the cast was comfortable."
"Above your pay grade," he mumbled before he focused again on her. "And the police?"
She let out a short burst of air. "They still didn’t call them."
The decision to hold off contacting the authorities was baffling.
Nick blew out another curse beneath his breath.
"Yup," she agreed. "Apparently avoiding bad press is more critical than finding the bride."
Or maybe they just wanted to preserve the shock value for when this season aired.
"What are they waiting for? Her body to wash up on shore?" he asked, not mincing words.
"God, I hope not." She cringed. "The company line is that nothing is wrong. Katia probably just needed a break from the cameras and took off and she'll be back."
But Dani knew the woman well enough to know Katia went out of her way to be on camera at all times, so the excuse didn't ring true.
"You think she got cold feet and ran?" Nick asked.
His question would be amusing since the show’s name was Cold Feet, if the question hadn’t brought up memories of another wedding and another bride who almost ran, and how Nick had ridden in to the rescue that day too. All memories Dani liked to keep buried, but the damn things kept crawling out of the graveyard of her mind anyway.
Stupid zombie-memories wouldn't stay dead.
Concentrating on today's drama, and not the one a decade old, Dani shrugged. "I doubt it. She's too much of a camera whore. But the name of the show is Cold Feet, so who knows?"
Nick's brows rose at the name, but he didn't comment. Instead his gaze hit on the crew shooting the cast as they talked, and drank, and cried, and lamented the loss of Katia.
"Why are they filming this?" he asked.
"A runaway bride is good television. I'm not surprised the producers are all over it. Besides, they're not going to let the cameramen sit around on their asses doing nothing while on the clock."
"And what if it turns out she's not a runaway? That she's dead? They going to air that on TV too?" Nick asked.
Dani wobbled her head back and forth. "I really wish I could tell you no."
He mumbled his obscenity-laden reaction to that. Dani thought she made out the words fucking barbarians from among the others and again, she had to agree with Nick.
This could be the most times she’d ever agreed with Nick on anything ever.
"Is there any evidence at all? Any clues about what happened?" he asked.
She scowled. "You're acting as if they're telling me anything. I'm an assistant. I told you. They basically told me to go away."
"Okay. I get that. So what do you know?" he asked.
"Not much. Just that the cell phone she never lets out of her sight was on the floor of her bedroom."
"What about a purse? She take her wallet? ID?" he asked, acting like a real detective or something.
Dani shook her head. "The cast is here for a month. They can't leave. They don't pay for anything. There's no need for cash or credit cards. So no one really has any of that stuff—wallets or purses—lying around the house. I just assumed they left it all home."
He sighed, turning those crazy gorgeous eyes on her. "You're not giving me a lot to go on here.
"
The usual annoyance accompanied by attraction rose within her. "And that's my fault how?"
He drew in a breath and shook his head. "Not your fault."
She nodded. Damn right it wasn't her fault. But his admitting that still wouldn’t solve anything. And, the way it was looking, even her grand sacrifice of asking Nick for help wasn't going to solve anything either.
The bride was gone.
ELEVEN
He'd come there to try to help Dani, but she wasn't giving him all that much to go on. Not through any fault of her own. He didn't blame her, even after she'd jumped down his throat like she had. Nick understood her frustration and shared it.
The production people were keeping details close to the vest. The question was why?
Were they trying to hide something? Because this whole set-up seemed shady as fuck.
Or were they just so scared about bad press they were willing to risk a woman's life in the process?
He glanced toward the beach. They really should have initiated a search. Of the shoreline on foot. Of the water by air.
At this point, it might be a search and recovery, rather than a rescue operation, if she'd been in the water all this time.
Nick opened his mouth to voice that just as a frazzled looking guy ran up to them.
"Dani, you're from around here, right?"
"Yeah. Why? What do you need?"
"A recommendation for a security company. Maria wants me to hire a security guard for the set."
Nick saw an opportunity and seized on it.
"I'm an experienced operator. Ten years active in the field.”
“Dani contacted you?” the guy asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Nick extended his hand. "I'm Nick Nelson."
The guy shook Nick's hand. "Dave. And why the fuck did Maria have me scrambling to hire a guard if she'd already asked you to do it?" Dave shot an annoyed glare at Dani.
Nick had to give Dani credit. She recovered quickly from the surprise of his stretching of the truth. After a quick wide-eyed glance, she turned her attention to Dave.
With a small shrug, she said, "I don't know. But I guess it's handled if you have something else you need to take care of."
Dave blew out a loud puff of air. "Only about a hundred things. Thanks for handling this."
