Web of Shadows

by Susan Sleeman

  “I can text you when I get home, if that makes you feel better.”

  His intensity returned. “You ever get one of those feelings that raises all your senses? The one that warns of imminent danger?”

  “Sure. After eighteen years under my Mama’s roof, I get them far more than the average person. But I dismiss them just as quickly,” she said. She wasn’t exactly telling the full truth, though, since she’d just had a similar feeling, and she hadn’t blown it off so easily.

  “I’m not talking about those vague feelings,” he continued, “but the ones that make your senses stand up and take notice. Those you don’t ignore. I know you don’t. I won’t either. So, your choice is to invite me along, or I’ll tail you. Either way, I’m sticking with you until I know you’re safely home.”

  As much as she was frustrated with him, she respected his tenacity. He really was a good man. Strong. Honorable. The kind of man any woman would be lucky to have in her life. The kind of man she would be lucky to have. If he changed jobs. But he wouldn’t. Today proved that. He’d been antsy all day, but now that he was free from the building, and he believed there was an underlying threat, his eyes were bright with excitement. She still suspected he had a subconscious need to believe a threat existed, just to get rid of his boredom.

  “If nothing else, you can take pity on me.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “Mom and Ty are long gone. I don’t have a ride.”

  “MAX is a short walk away,” she said, fully intending to let him escort her home but not making it easy for him.

  “The train. Are you nuts? You want me to take the train?”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s a wonderful mode of transportation.” She tried to look serious, but felt a smile forming.

  He groaned and eyed her. His expression suddenly cleared. “You’re messing with me.”

  She grinned. “That I am.”

  “You know what happens when you tease me.” He locked gazes with her, and his eyes heated up.

  One thing she’d always loved about him was that he was such a man’s man, the big, strong, tough guy, but he still let her tease him and took it in stride. Even seemed to enjoy it. But it also always led to him needing to physically prove his strength. To touch her. She’d loved that, too. Every minute of it.

  So when he stepped closer, she was helpless to resist. She leaned in instead of moving back. He rested a hand on her collarbone, then slid it around the back of her neck drawing her toward him.

  Every nerve ending fired. She waited for him to lower his head. For his lips to touch hers. Her breath caught. Her heart thundered in her chest. He bent closer. His breath soft on her cheek. The waiting torture. Agony.

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

  Yes, she wanted to say, but didn’t speak.

  “But I know that’s not what you want, so I’ll abide by your wishes.” His hand suddenly dropped from her neck, and he stepped away. “Want me to drive?”

  Anger surged in her gut. He had to know by her body language that she’d wanted him to kiss her—he’d just wanted to make sure she knew it, too. Well, she did. The feelings were still burning bright. She was in over her head. She should send him packing. Instead, she unlocked the car door and tossed him the keys so he’d turn his focus to driving and keep it off of her.

  What are you doing, Nina?

  She climbed into the car next to him. His fresh scent already permeated the air. His body was large and in charge. Those amazing hands gripped the wheel, and she could see his muscles moving under the tight fabric of his sleeves.

  Stop this now. You’re playing with fire.

  The warning came through loud and clear. But all she could manage right now was to settle in for the ride and pray she didn’t get burned.

  WILEY YAWNED AND blinked blurry eyes as he climbed the stairs to Kip’s apartment for a quick nap. Two nights without much sleep had him ready to drop. With Brandt on his tail, he couldn’t afford to let drowsiness make him careless, so he planned to grab a quick catnap. He pushed open the door. The rich scent of frying bacon made his mouth water and stomach rumble. He didn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

  He’d always been able to con Kip out of his food, so he headed straight for the miniscule kitchen. “Smells good.”

  Kip spun, his fork holding a strip of dripping bacon. “Where have you been?”

  “I told you about the chick I was hooking up with,” Wiley lied.

  Grinning, Kip turned back and slapped the bacon into the pan. Grease crackled and spit into the air. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Wiley slid onto a bar stool. “Why’s that?”

  “There’s an interesting post on the Hacktivist site by one of Hamid’s friends. Mike Newman. You remember him?”

  “Yeah, the barely twenty-year-old dude who’s pulling down big bucks and living like a king.”

  Kip nodded. “His post claimed Hamid is desperate to get the computer back and asks for whoever found it to return it.”

  “Ah, man.” Wiley slapped his forehead as he carefully considered his response. “I’ve been so busy with . . . well, you know.” He grinned. “It slipped my mind.”

  “Dude, I totally get that. If I had a night like yours . . . well, the decision would be a no-brainer. But now that you’re on a break, you can get the computer to Hamid, right?”

  “Sure,” Wiley said, trying to sound sincere as he pondered how, with Hamid locked up by the Feds and probably without internet access, this Mike dude could know the computer hadn’t been returned. He could be an FBI snitch or maybe because he couldn’t contact Hamid and had seen Hamid’s plea disappear, Mike just wanted to be sure the computer was returned. Either way, Wiley had another problem to resolve.

  Kip eyed him. “I mean, like, fast. The kid’s desperate, man. Call him now. Or I can do it if you need me to.”

  This guy just never quit. Nag, nag, nag. He was worse than Wiley’s parents. Always gnawing at him. After him. Getting into his business. Demanding.

  Wiley ground his teeth to keep from spitting out a smart-aleck remark. He imagined his hands around Kip’s neck, squeezing until the dude’s eyes bugged out. Slowly, painfully losing all oxygen. Struggling. His eyes pleading for release.

  “Well, are you going to do it, or do you want me to?” Kip glared at Wiley.

  “Sure man, I’ll do it,” he said. But he was now thinking about killing this lame dude for real.

  The guy had just proven his true colors. He’d chosen the little kid who’d lost his computer over Wiley. He felt the Colt tucked into his belt and hidden under his baggy T-shirt. Kip deserved a bullet. Deserved to die. Killing him would solve Wiley’s issue with returning the computer. He needed to shut him up. Or Hamid. One of them.

  He still needed Kip for housing. At least for the short term, but Hamid? Wiley didn’t need him after tonight. As an added bonus, he could frame Brandt for the murder. Double score. She might even get the death sentence. Perfect.

  “When will you do it?” Kip nagged.

  Wiley fisted his hands. “I’ll go now if I can use your car again.”

  Kip nodded vigorously. “I don’t want to see that kid suffer anymore. His mother already puts him through enough because of his heart condition.”

  Heart condition. Oh yeah.

  The kid had complained about having an ICD at one of their meetings. Wiley’s father had had one of the original implantable cardioverter defibrillators installed, so Wiley had struck up a conversation with the kid and received far more details than he wanted. But now it would pay off. It was a perfect way to kill the kid and make it look like a computer geek had committed the murder. A geek like Brandt.

  Wiley could easily hack the remote bedside monitor/transmitter for the device. He’d messed with the programming
on his dad’s transmitter to play with the old man. Nothing life threatening. Just a little adjustment to deliver a shock. Wiley could have killed him if he’d kept at it. He should have back then, for all the good his dad had done Wiley. But the doctor had figured out that someone had altered the monitor and that put an end to Wiley’s fun.

  The memory made him smile. His dad knowing what he’d done. Worried Wiley would do it again, he’d locked up the monitor. For once, the shoe was on the other foot. They’d had to worry about what he was up to. Unfortunately, it kept him from taking care of the old man that way. No matter. Wiley had found a way. He always took care of things, and he’d take care of Hamid, too.

  Wiley stood and stifled a smile that found its way to his lips. “I’ll let Hamid know about the computer ASAP. It’d be a shame for the kid to keep worrying about it.”

  The furrow in Kip’s brow relaxed, and he set down his fork. “Drain my bacon while I get Mike’s phone number, and I might give you some.”

  Wiley grabbed a plate, then lined it with paper towel. He lifted a few dripping pieces of bacon from the pan and blotted them dry. He selected the crispiest strip and blew on it. Biting into it, he groaned at the savory flavor and crunchy texture. He needed to eat and get out of there. He had no time to waste sleeping now. He had another job to do.

  Chapter Nineteen

  QUINN PARKED IN front of Nina’s small craftsman bungalow with a wide front porch. Blue with white trim and a bright-red door, the property was obviously well loved and welcoming. The craftsman styling said Portland while the white cane-backed rockers spoke to Nina’s upbringing. A true reflection of her personality. She was an irresistible mix of Northwest independence and true Southern charm.

  She stared at him. “Okay, so now what?”

  He turned off the engine. “I’ll have a quick look around, then call a cab.”

  “You know it’s not necessary to check my place, right?”

  “For you, maybe, but not for me.” He wouldn’t give her a chance to argue, but climbed out.

  She caught up to him on the walkway flanked with neatly trimmed shrubs.

  “Nice house,” he said as they strolled up the walk.

  “Thanks, I like it.” She climbed the stairs painted in the gunmetal gray of the Navy’s battleships to the porch.

  He could easily picture her out there with her sugary sweet tea, a child or two on her lap, humming a soft Southern song she’d learned from her grandmother as she often did while cooking. Problem was, he could picture himself there, too. In their house. Maybe a dog and a few kids. It was something he’d once considered when they were together. Before she’d given him the ultimatum, and he realized he couldn’t be that guy. The one who woke up, day after day, in one place.

  His life was a mix of foreign countries, nights under the stars, and rugged conditions in all terrains. Sea, air, and land, like the SEAL name implied. Getting in and out quickly without being seen. Gathering intelligence. Destroying targets and effecting rescues. An exciting life. Not the humdrum of suburbia.

  If he occasionally wanted more, like this time spent with Nina had him pondering, he simply had to get back to base to remember who he was. That had always taken care of things.

  Like it has lately?

  It really didn’t matter what he wanted, did it? He’d blown it with her, and buying her own house said she’d moved on quite well without him. “I didn’t think home ownership was in your plans so soon.”

  She unlocked the door. “The timing was right. House prices and mortgage rates had come down, so I got a good deal. And I’m so glad I did it. This neighborhood is wonderful.”

  She was settling in there. Making a home, not picking up and moving to San Diego to be with him, should he ask.

  “What if you get transferred?”

  “It could happen, but I really like Portland and asked to stay here.”

  “What are the odds of that happening?”

  “If I’m working on the CAT team, they’re pretty good.”

  Yeah, she’d put down roots all right.

  He trailed her through a small foyer that led to an open family room/kitchen combination. The space had been completely remodeled, yet it still held built-ins from a bygone era. Her contemporary furniture should seem out of place, but everything went together well.

  No surprise. Nina had wonderful taste in clothing. He expected she’d put together a home that was warm and inviting, yet stylish.

  She shrugged out of her suit coat, revealing a white blouse perfectly tailored to her shape. “I’m going to have a glass of wine. Would you like a beer after you finish your inspection?”

  “A beer sounds great.”

  “Go ahead and check things out. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He felt odd looking through her house without her, but that warning to take care wouldn’t leave his gut. He would make sure the place was secure. He checked locks on the windows in the family room, then moved down a hallway to the master bedroom. Her flamboyant touches were everywhere except on the walls, which were painted a neutral gray. The space even smelled like her. Rich, spicy, and sweet all at the same time. She’d once told him her perfume contained amber. He didn’t have a clue what amber smelled like, but her scent was smooth and intoxicating.

  He performed a security check of the other bedrooms, then swept the bathrooms and went into an office with an antique desk holding a computer monitor. Papers and books were scattered everywhere—stacked on two plump easy chairs, piled on the floor, on the desk, and bookshelves. Her messiness had once irritated his military sense of order. Shoot, he’d still like to clean it up, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out this was her way of rebelling against the tight control her mother had exerted over her life.

  He joined her in the kitchen with marble countertops and stainless appliances. She loved to cook big Southern meals and gather her friends around her. Her apartment had been small, but he could easily imagine her hosting large groups in this space.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, not looking up from the block of cheese she was slicing.

  “It’s all good.” He sat on a counter stool. “This is an amazing kitchen. Did you remodel or was it done when you bought it?”

  “Could you see these hands near any construction tools?” She held them out, her nails perfectly manicured in a deep-red color.

  “No,” he said, as memories of the softness of her fingers on his face came flooding back. His throat suddenly dry, he swallowed hard and retrieved his own beer from the fridge, then took a long drink.

  “As long as you’re helping yourself, why don’t you pour a glass of wine for me and have some cheese while I get out of these work clothes.” She didn’t wait for an answer but went through the doorway.

  Great. Now he had visions of her changing in the room just down the hall. He took another swig, letting the icy liquid slide down his throat and cool him off. He found a bottle of merlot in the refrigerator and located the wine glasses. Small and large glasses sat gleaming on the shelf. She’d had a large-glass kind of day, so he filled a big one and took their drinks, plus the cheese, to the living room.

  He settled on the sofa, feeling right at home. All he needed was a remote for the big TV above the fireplace and he’d be happy to put his feet up on the coffee table and stay for as long as she’d have him. Or until he tired of humdrum living.

  Nina came back wearing formfitting yoga pants and a purple T-shirt. She was shrugging into an old green sweater that she burrowed into when she was stressed. Or had burrowed into, before they’d become a real couple. After that, she’d snuggled up next to him whenever she needed soothing.

  He took another swig of his beer.

  She went to her purse and withdrew a sheaf of papers, then grabbed the wine and sat on the far end of the sofa.

  No snuggl
ing tonight. Work Nina had returned.

  She pulled her legs under her and took a few sips before setting the glass on the table. “I can’t quit thinking about what Sulyard’s up to.”

  Right. Business, as he expected. “I suspect we won’t know until he chooses to reveal it.”

  “With him, that could mean days or even weeks. He might even decide I can’t come back to work until this is resolved. So I made copies of the list.” She pressed out a crease on the paper. “As soon as I have something to eat, I’ll get started on reviewing these names again.”

  “You’re playing with fire here, you know,” Quinn warned.

  Her head popped up.

  “Aw, c’mon, Nina. Why so surprised? You know Sulyard will let you have it when he finds out you have the list.”

  “Copy of the list.”

  “Technicality. He made it clear he didn’t want you doing anything.”

  “What he doesn’t know . . .” She started pulling pins from her hair. The light caught each one as she drew them out until her hair caressed her shoulders. She glanced at her watch. “I suppose your mom and Ty have eaten by now. We could order from a Chinese restaurant that delivers before you go. If you want to, that is.”

  Surprise darted through him, but not nearly enough to replace the joy he felt at the thought of staying with her for dinner. She returned her attention to the papers sitting in her lap. She was completely oblivious to what he was really hungry for.

  “Sounds good,” he said and chugged the rest of his beer.

  She massaged her scalp. She’d once told him it was often tender after restraining her wild mop of hair all day. He’d like to take over the task. Not a good idea.

  “Go ahead and order. I’ll eat anything.” He held up his bottle. “Mind if I have another one?”

  “Be my guest,” she answered, already reaching for her phone.