by Tawny Weber
Unlike the last time he’d been here, lights glowed a welcome through the curtained windows.
The question was, why?
What did Darby want?
It had to be information. Because it damn sure wasn’t his body. Nic’s fingers tightened. Not at the idea of Darby having no interest in him. He was fine with that. Sure, it sucked to be so hot for a woman whose only interest in him was locking his ass in jail.
Nope, what sucked was that she could think for one single second that he’d give her any type of information. That she was that clueless about what type of man he was. That she was that clueless about what kind of officer he was.
More than ready to tell her just where she was wrong, he bypassed the doorbell, using his clenched fist instead to pound his greeting.
Then Darby opened her front door. She was dressed down. Not soft and flowing, like she’d dressed on vacation. Instead, she wore jeans low on the hips, a thick brown belt and a plain white T-shirt. The thick-heeled, military-style boots echoed the masculine look, while her necklace—varying lengths of fat chains—gave her outfit a biker vibe.
He went from pissed to rock-hard in two seconds flat. Okay, so he was still pissed.
But apparently that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
It had to be the dimples.
“You called?” he asked, his words as cold and distant as he wished his body was.
“Thanks for coming over,” she returned, her tone as neutral as Switzerland. “Please. Come in.”
Nic strode inside with the same confidence and caution that he would employ marching into enemy territory. Something to remember, he reminded himself.
Darby wasn’t his sexy vacation playmate. The woman was working for the damn enemy.
“Still haven’t done anything with this place?” he commented, grimacing at the bland landscape of her living room. “You ever check out a Pottery Barn? Or, you know, flea markets?”
“I already told you, I’m hardly ever here.” Darby wrinkled her nose as she looked at her beige furnishings. “Besides, what do you know about home decor? Don’t you live in a cookie-cutter box on a regimented military base?”
“You’ve been checking up on me?”
“Given that I’m part of the team prosecuting you, yes. Your address did land on my desk.”
Fists clenching again, Nic sucked air through his teeth.
“So that’s what you wanted to talk with me about?” Nope. He wasn’t upset to find out he’d been right. Not one little bit. “What’s the legal term for conflict of interest?”
“Conflict of interest,” she said drily, turning away. But not before he saw her lips twitching.
Nic frowned.
What was going on? Where did the friendly attitude come from? What was she up to?
“Why am I here?”
“There’s an issue I want to discuss and I’d prefer to have the discussion away from my office.”
“Conflict of interest?”
“Actually, no.”
Darby gestured toward the rock-hard-looking couch. He figured it was some sort of punishment since he could tell she wasn’t going to continue until he did, so he sat.
“This isn’t as bad as I thought,” he admitted as he leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “It’s at least two steps up from sitting on a metal bench in a fighter while it’s taking fire.”
“Taking fire?”
“Being shot at by the enemy.”
“Ah.” Eyes wide, she slowly let out a breath as she dropped onto the arm of the chair opposite him. “Has that happened more than once?”
“Is this you trying to get information out of me for the case?” he asked, not sure when this conversation had become fun. “How is that not a conflict of interest?”
“My assignment is to assess the evidence in this case and, pending my belief that all evidence is true and factual, pursue treason charges on behalf of the Justice Department.”
It didn’t take Nic long to get her drift. But he needed an extra few seconds to accept it.
“You don’t think I’m guilty?”
Darby opened her mouth, then closed it. With a shrug she slid all the way into the seat of the chair. “Let’s say that evidence has come to my attention that needs to be factored in to the rest of the case.”
“What evidence?”
“Information has come to my attention that gives pause to the belief that you planned and implemented various acts of treason. Acts including but not limited to the selling of classified information to the enemy.” As if realizing she was beating around the bush, Darby stopped, pressed her lips together for a moment, then tilted head to one side. “In combination with this new evidence, it is my belief that numerous individuals are involved in this case. Individuals whose names have not yet been brought to light.”
Shit.
Fists tight, Nic pushed to his feet and glared.
“Look. I know you’re considering a joint trial. I heard you were going to try to bring in every member of Team Poseidon as codefendants. But that’s crap.” The more he thought about it, the more pissed he got. “I thought you were an ethical attorney.”
“How would you know what kind of attorney I am?” she asked with a dismissive laugh.
“You graduated from Columbia with honors. Instead of following the lure of money, you took a government job. You have a reputation for closing cases clean, for not being afraid to get your hands dirty and for never backing down.” And damn if that wasn’t nearly as sexy as her smokin’ hot body.
“You researched me?” she asked, her voice rising. He understood the shock in her tone, but the hint of unease made him frown.
Nic gave Darby a narrow-eyed stare. One of the things he’d been most attracted to in Hawaii was the way emotions would play over that beautiful face of hers.
Why couldn’t he read it now? Was that really worry he’d noted, or something else?
The bottom line was trust.
Could he trust her?
His instincts said he could. Usually, Nic relied on his well-honed instincts without question.
But he couldn’t right now. Not with Darby. Not in this situation.
Because it wasn’t just him who was being framed here. Because Prescott was still sporting burn scars on half of his body. Because instead of making dumb jokes and massacring the latest dance moves, Powers was buried in Arlington. And because for all his bravado and bullshit, Ramsey had come across as legit when he’d claimed he hadn’t killed Powers.
Nic didn’t figure it was his job to give her any of that information.
Not until he knew where she was going with this.
“Let’s keep this simple. Are you considering bringing other members of my team to trial in this matter?”
She took a deep breath, then bit her bottom lip as if unsure of what she wanted to say. He wanted to tell her to stop. She was too damn distracting. Before he could, though, she seemed to reach a decision.
“Actually, I’m reconsidering the veracity of Lieutenant Thomas’s secret witness.”
Sure she was.
She’d based her entire case on that witness testimony. If the information he’d dug up was correct, she’d worked her entire career for a case like this. And she was willing to walk away from it? Shaking his head and wondering what the hell she was up to, Nic dropped onto the couch again.
“Sure you are.”
Darby silently arched one brow. Then, as if wanting to seriously test his patience, she gave him an impatient look instead of rising to the taunt.
But Nic was made of sterner stuff than that. So he stared right back.
And waited.
He used the time to give her a good, long look. Even her chilling-at-home look was a w
orld away from the relaxed vacation style he’d found so attractive. But as he took in the T-shirt cupping her breasts and the denim hugging her thighs, he had to admit that he was just as turned on now as he’d been that first night.
He drew in a long, slow breath, hoping to ditch the interest.
Damn, she smelled good. Like hot nights and great sex. Not what he should be thinking, he reminded himself. Except now that it was there, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.
“Fine,” he finally said, not sure if he was irritated or impressed that she could outsilence him. “You have new evidence that’s strong enough that you’re questioning your JAG buddy. But you’re not going to tell me anything about it. So why am I here?”
He didn’t stem the sarcasm, instead he let it ride on the wave of anger surging through him.
“Because I don’t want to be a party to injustice,” she said, shoving her fingers through her hair so the dark ends spiked every which way. “And I’ve come to think that your court-martial would be just that.”
Somewhere inside, a small spark of hope lit. Not hope that he’d walk away from this trial with his career intact. He refused to believe it’d end any other way.
But that Darby believed him. He didn’t know why, he wasn’t sure how much. But her thinking injustice in connection with his name? That made him feel pretty fucking hopeful.
Still...
“You’re so sure you’d win the case?” he asked with a scoffing laugh.
“I’m good. Damn good,” she said in a tone that left no doubt she believed exactly that. “But in this particular instance, I could halfway suck and you’d still be convicted.”
“I beg your pardon?” He scowled to keep the surprise off his face.
“The case against you is strong. Despite your years of unblemished service, this evidence indicates that for whatever reason, you’ve given up serving your country with honor and, instead, are selling information, biological weapons and other intelligence that comes into your hands for a huge personal profit.”
Nic’s stomach turned. Not just at the recital of crimes—although it infuriated him that someone would do that type of thing—but that they were being ascribed to him.
“Of course, you have over a dozen years in the military with an exemplary service record and enough commendations to fill a filing cabinet.” She gave him a curious expression. “Do you actually have medals for all of those? Do you wear them all at the same time? They must cover your entire chest.”
“I don’t wear them all,” he muttered.
“Just the special ones?”
He shrugged, trying to ignore the sudden wave of embarrassment lapping at him. He was proud of every medal he’d earned, but wearing them all? That was like bragging.
“What about the ones you don’t wear?” she asked, sounding as if she really wanted to know. “Do you keep them?”
“As opposed to, what? Tossing them in the trash?” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I keep them. My mother bought me a fancy rosewood chest when I finished basic training. I store them all in there.”
“Tossed in a closet or something?”
“You’re kidding, right?” He shot a disdainful glance around the blahness of her living room and realized she probably wasn’t. That there wasn’t a single decoration said enough about her aesthetic sense. But she didn’t have a single photo, nothing that looked sentimental. “Okay, maybe you’re not kidding. So, no. First, it’s a huge standing cabinet, so it takes up part of a wall. Second, they’re important. You don’t shove something important in a closet.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Her smile flashed as she nodded. “They’re important to you. You value that recognition. I’d guess, given the parts of your file I was able to read, that you put a huge amount of effort into earning those commendations.”
“The Navy doesn’t give out participation awards,” he said, his words just short of a sneer.
“Do you have an issue with participation awards? Like, what? Only the best should be recognized?”
“Recognition is earned. If someone wants something, they should work their ass off for it. Do their best. Put the time in, do the work.” There were no two ways about that, as far as Nic was concerned.
“Your reputation—at least, what I’ve found so far in my research—supports that opinion. What that tells me is that you have a lot of pride in the work you’ve done, and that you put a lot of effort into being the best.” Darby tilted her head to one side, giving him an intent study. “From what I’ve learned, you don’t believe in shortcuts and, in your own words, there are no participation awards in your life.”
“Okay,” he said, partially in agreement but just as much because he had no idea where she was going with this conversation. She’d called him for a specific reason. Was this it? “Thanks?”
“No big deal.” She shrugged. “You’d think whoever set you up would know that. They’re obviously close enough to have deep access to your life. How could they be completely unaware of who you are when who you are negates what you’re being accused of?”
Reeling like he’d just been hit upside the head with a baseball bat, Nic could only stare. First, he processed her words, then he tried to assess her expression to see if she really meant them.
She looked as if she did, but he had to be sure.
It was too damn important not to.
“You believe I’m being set up?” he asked. Not because he didn’t believe her, but because he wanted to hear her say it again. “You, personally, believe I’m innocent.”
“I just said that, didn’t I?” She gave him an impatient look. “Whoever set you up did an excellent job of it. The evidence is compelling. They’ve found links between payments and your alleged bank accounts. And they have a witness willing to tell a judge facts that will disprove your logical line of defense.”
Well, that was anything but encouraging.
“Okay.” Nic rubbed his fingers against his temple. “Let me get this straight. You believe I’m innocent, but you figure I’m going down anyway?”
“Unless you get some help.”
He didn’t need help. He had his team, his men. Nothing else was necessary. Ever.
Still, he wanted to see where she was going with this.
“And are you going to—” he had to swallow before he could force out the next words “—help me?”
“No.”
What the fuck?
Nic barely resisted the urge to give her ugly-ass couch a swift kick.
“Would you care to clarify that?”
A look flashed in Darby’s eyes as she got to her feet. She was damn good at hiding her emotions. Oh, but that expression he read just fine. The woman was laughing at him. Why the hell did he find that sexy?
“I’m the prosecution. It would be a conflict of interest for me to help you.”
“Do you enjoy fucking with me?”
“What a thing to ask.” She flashed an impish smile that left as quick as it’d come. “The bottom line is that I will be filing treason charges in this matter, which means that I can’t help you. I can, however, offer an opinion.”
“An opinion?”
“You’ve heard the saying, ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall’?” she said, giving each word care and weight. “Human nature likes to see the mighty torn apart. There is comfort in thinking that the elite are no better than the average.”
What the hell did that have to do with anything? Nic didn’t bother to ask. He just stared and waited.
“From what I understand, you and your friends all started in basically the same place, correct? SEAL training?”
“BUD/S,” he amended. “Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training.”
She didn’t blink at the correction. Simply inclined her head
in acknowledgment.
“You and eleven others, all top of your BUD/S class, set records that still hold before graduating. Once you became SEALs, you formed what is now called Poseidon. An exclusive, closed-door group consisting of only the twelve of you.”
“We didn’t close any doors.”
“You didn’t allow anyone to join. Instead, you continued training, each member focusing on a specific field that would add to the skill set of the whole. You developed operations, you performed missions together and, over time, you developed a reputation as unassailable. You were the elite, called in for the toughest missions, consulted for advice on the deadliest operations.”
Sounded about right. So Nic wondered why her recitation was making the back of his neck itch.
“So you’re saying, what? That we’re being taken out because we’re a threat? A threat to who?” His shoulders stiffened and he stepped closer to give Darby a hard look. “If someone is taking us out, it’s because they are targeting the United States in some way that they believe we can prevent. You need to give me details. Everything. My team and I will handle it.”
Nic pulled out his cell phone, intending to record her words. Before he could, Darby laid one hand on his arm and shook her head. He didn’t like it, but couldn’t deny that the admiration in her eyes filled him with warmth.
“I don’t have information that leads me to believe there is an imminent attack planned by anyone. Although it wouldn’t be a stretch to think that such a plan would be easier if you were out of the way.”
“What’s your point, then?”
“My point is that a reputation like yours inspires awe, but it also incites jealousy. From those who can’t reach those heights. But more from anyone who could, but was turned away.”
“You think someone framed me because they were jealous?” Nic rolled his eyes.
“I think someone committed treason because they are traitors. I think they set you up because they had access and opportunity to lay out a false trail. I think they believed it would work because you were an easy target.”
For the first time in forever, Nic was stunned. He opened his mouth, but his brain went blank. Finally after closing his mouth again, he said, “You believe that I’m an easy target?”
