by Devyn Quinn
Whittaker cocked a brow. “They just got married, right?”
Gwen nodded. “About three weeks ago.” She thought a moment. “How did you know?”
“There’s a reason the word investigate is in the job description,” Whittaker answered behind a smirk. “It’s what we do.”
“Smart-ass.”
He smiled slowly. “And I’d say you had a nice ass, but it would probably get me slapped.”
Ah. So there was a human being under that hardcore facade he wore like a second skin.
Gwen tilted her head back to look at him. She was fairly tall herself, but he dwarfed her. The top of her head barely brushed his shoulder. He was definitely the kind of man built for sweeping a woman off her feet.
“Or sued for sexual harassment,” she added drily. “And if you were trying to compliment me, you missed the mark.” She offered her own smile. “By at least a mile.”
Whittaker blew out a breath, then cleared his throat. “I’m attempting to apologize for being a jerk back there.”
Her heart missed a beat. “Jerk doesn’t begin to describe it,” she countered.
He frowned. “Oh?”
Gwen decided to let him off the hook. At least he was trying to be civil and decent. “But it’s too early in the morning to hold a grudge,” she added. “So apology accepted.” It helped that he presented quite a nice package to look at. She might not indulge, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy savoring the view.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “So let me make it up to you by letting me buy you something to eat when we get back to the mainland.”
She laughed. “My tax dollars at work, right?”
“Something like that.” He shrugged. “Or you could think of it as my attempt to repair my terrible manners.”
“So you guys really aren’t trained to be bastards?”
“Only where the bad guys are concerned,” he answered seriously. “You’re not a bad guy, are you?”
Gwen clicked her tongue. “You’ll have to use your investigative skills if you want to find out.”
He nodded. And even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, she had the feeling he was eyeing her from head to toe.
Stepping incrementally closer, he lowered his head. The tips of his shoes didn’t quite touch hers. “I could do that,” he breathed in a voice that reminded her of smoky bars with shadowy corners.
Arousal leaping into blazing life, Gwen felt her knees weaken a bit. Whittaker was so close she was aware of every inch of his big body, so hard and brawny under the drape of his suit. The heat behind his murmured words brushed her cheek.
The attraction was definitely there, buzzing between them like a swarm of angry bees.
An all-too-familiar voice interrupted the moment. “Hey, you two, break it up!”
Reality crashed back in.
Clenching her teeth, Gwen took a quick step back. Get a grip, she thought. Act like a grown woman instead of a desperate virgin.
Addison’s shoes clattered onto the dock. She was all noise and chatter. “What the hell?” she said by the way of a greeting. “We’ve been waiting since seven for the freaking feds to arrive.”
Gwen grabbed her sister’s arm, pulling her back. “Please, Addison, mind your mouth,” she said between gritted teeth. Brash and uninhibited, the youngest Lonike sister had no sense of proper decorum. Addison said whatever was on her mind, even if it meant hurting someone’s feelings. Or stepping on their toes.
Blake Whittaker straightened his tie, already perfectly positioned. The invisible shield he’d temporarily lowered clicked back into place. The human in him disappeared and the stone-cold automaton returned. “Actually there’s only one fed, and I’m it.”
Addison planted her hands on her hips. “Well, do you think you could get a move on? We’re all tired of sitting around, twiddling our thumbs.”
Whittaker pulled his mouth into a flat line. “Twiddle no more.”
Gwen mentally slapped her forehead with her palm. Just when it looked like she was making a little headway, Addison’s bad timing had to ruin everything. Having Whittaker in a good mood might have moved his interview with Kenneth and Tessa along a little faster.
Now he’d probably give everyone a good grilling. All she could hope was Addison wouldn’t open her mouth and insert her big foot. She could practically hear the headlines blaring on the nightly news: MERMAIDS DISCOVERED IN PORT ROCK, MAINE. If anyone was going to out their kind, it would definitely be Addison.
“That little twit has to ruin everything,” she muttered, following her sister and Whittaker toward the house.
As for that meal he’d offered to buy her . . .
Gwen had a feeling she wasn’t getting it.
The only pictures Blake had seen of Little Mer Island had shown a lighthouse perched beside a rundown Cape Cod-style house. The lighthouse still stood in its place, keeping its unblinking watch over the open sea. The main house, however, had changed. A lot. Even from a quarter-mile distance, he could see the dwelling had morphed from simple to elaborate, tripling in size.
Blake shook his head. The intelligence report he’d received apparently wasn’t the most current. He rolled his eyes. Damn. How could they not be informed about all the freaking construction? With satellite technology that could capture the image of a license plate on a car, they shouldn’t have missed the massive construction activity. Hell, they could have found this with Google Earth.
He sighed. “Fucking budget cuts,” he muttered under his breath. Not to mention short staffing. Since 9/11, hundreds of agents had been transferred into counter-terrorism operations, leaving dozens of positions unfilled. Even the A51 division was feeling the pain of the gutting.
“Did you say something, Agent Whittaker?” Gwen asked.
Blake shook his head. “Just admiring the construction.”
“Quite a lot of it going on lately,” she agreed. “Kenneth seems to have been bitten by the building bug.”
Blake combed through his mental notes. He knew Kenneth Randall was loaded, the widower of Jennifer Marsham, heiress to the Marsham Investments firm in New York.
He also knew Randall had inherited quite a chunk of change after Jennifer Marsham was gunned down in a carjacking. Her grief-stricken parents had even gone so far as to accuse Randall of hiring someone to kill their daughter so he could get his hands on her money.
Their accusations were for naught. No connection was ever found between Randall and the shooter. Jennifer Marsham’s death was a random occurrence, nothing more.
Whatever his story, no one could accuse Randall of greed. He’d practically rebuilt the house from the ground up. The small, cozy home had turned into a larger, cozier home. Two more cozy little cottages were being built nearby.
Addison noticed his twice-over. She pointed at one partially built home. “Mine.” She grinned and pointed to the other. “And that will be Gwen’s house.” She winked. “For when we get married and move home with our husbands.”
Blake nodded. “Nice.”
Addison eyed his left hand. “You married?”
That was easy enough to answer. “Nope.”
“Dating?”
No hesitation. “Nope.”
“Looking?” she asked hopefully.
Blake shook his head. “Nope.” Damn. She was good at prying. She’d just gotten his whole sorry relationship status in three questions. The bureau could use a sharp little cookie like her.
Truth be told, he wasn’t serious about looking for a new lover. Once their biological clocks began to tick, most women wanted to put flings behind them and settle down. Blake had already had a taste of settling down and it hadn’t agreed with him one bit. A little over four years ago he’d even tried shacking up with a woman.
He frowned. What a disaster. The only good thing to come out of that mess was his son, Trevor.
Gwen interrupted her sister’s grilling. “Stop it with the third deg
ree, already,” she warned. “His life is not your business.”
Addison grinned, revealing a cute little gap between her teeth. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, she also sported a set of wicked bad tattoos that started at her wrists and wound their way up her arms. The art was awesomely impressive. Blake didn’t even want to think about the pain involved.
“Any man not wearing a wedding ring is my business,” she shot back. “If he’s single and over twenty-one, then he’s fair game.” She winked. “You know how slim the pickings are around Port Rock.”
Gwen sighed toward the cottage Addison had indicated as hers. “You know I’m not moving back. Kenneth and Tessa just have this big fantasy that we’ll all get married and raise our kids here.” A laugh escaped her. “I have a business, on the mainland. Remember?”
“Don’t know why you couldn’t commute. It’s only a fifteen-minute ferry trip, twenty max.”
“Winter,” Gwen reminded her recalcitrant sibling.
Giving half an ear to the sisters’ conversation, Blake looked around the island. Some parts of it were still uncultivated, jungle wild. It was the kind of place a kid would love to run amok; climbing trees, playing on the beach, swimming in the cove. Such a wide-open space and fresh air seemed like paradise on earth, a terrific place to grow up.
Trevor would go nuts for this, he thought. When school let out for the season, Blake would have forty-two blissful days to visit with his kid.
Blake could almost imagine bringing Trevor to Port Rock, maybe show his son where he’d spent the first half of his life. Even though he and Debra couldn’t speak without shouting at each other, his four-year-old son still thought Daddy was a hero. And Blake was determined to keep it that way. The cycle of abuse and neglect he’d known as a child didn’t have to continue into the next generation. Why punish his son because he felt unlovable and unworthy?
Without quite thinking about it, Blake let his gaze edge over toward Gwen. An hour ago he’d been chomping at the bit to leave town. Now he was mulling plans to bring his son to Port Rock. What was wrong with him?
Blake hated to admit it, but his heart had sped up double-time when she’d touched him. Yeah, he knew it was simply a gesture of concern. Somehow she’d sensed his discomfort and tried to calm his fear.
He shook his head. She might already have a boyfriend. Hell, she might even be in a serious relationship already. Or engaged. The one thing he did know was that her ring finger was bare.
That meant she might be open to something with him.
If I decide to pursue her, he thought.
At this point it was all wild speculation.
He’d had these gut-level attractions before and they’d never panned out, mostly because he’d always backed off at the last moment. Once bitten, twice shy didn’t begin to describe his hang-ups with women.
Then there was his job, which often entailed insane hours and a lot of travel. Finally, he was tied up with trying to be a part of his young son’s life and wrangling with his ex-girlfriend. It was a lot to take care of, and twenty-four hours just didn’t cover all he needed to do.
Still, Gwen was definitely different. The simple touch of her hand had set his nerves afire. He’d had to shift away and brush her off to keep his composure. That or end up with a very prominent hard-on. She’d accepted his slight with grace.
He’d tried to make it up to her by asking her out. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“What about a hotel on the island?” he blurted out. “You know, one of those little inn-type places?”
Blindsided by his unexpected entry into the conversation, Gwen looked at him like he’d lost every marble in his head. “Excuse me?”
Blake pointed out an acre that had caught his eye. “I was just wondering why you don’t consider building on the island. With the lighthouse and access to the mainland, it seems like it would be a perfect tourist destination.”
Gwen lifted her chin. “Maybe because I don’t happen to have a few million dollars sitting in my checking account,” she countered.
Addison jumped in. “Ken’s made the offer—” she started to say.
Gwen immediately shook her head. “And I’m not asking my brother-in-law to finance my business ventures,” she countered firmly. “Anything I do, I’ll do it with money I’ve earned.”
“But it’s a possibility,” Addison prodded.
For some insane reason, Blake nodded his agreement. “It’s something I’d keep in mind. You’ve got a good piece of real estate. Would be a real shame to waste it.”
He didn’t know why he felt compelled to add his two cents. It really wasn’t any of his business. It just seemed like a good idea.
Gwen Lonike was giving everyone the evil eye, looking at him and Addison like bugs she wanted to step on. She pinned her sister with a stare. “We enjoy our privacy.” She coughed discreetly into her hand. “Remember.”
Addison flagged a hand. “Oh, that’s overrated nowadays.” She threw out her arms. “How are you going to get noticed if you don’t think big?”
Flashing a look of annoyance, Gwen put them both off. “I’d rather think big, but stay discreet. That gets me along in life just fine. Thank you.” She jabbed a finger toward Blake. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your meddling in my family’s business to official business only. Whatever you’ve got to do, do it and go away. Please.”
That said, she marched off toward the main house in a huff. For the second time that day Blake had a view of her back as she stomped away.
He had a feeling he’d be eating alone tonight.
Nibbling her bottom lip, Addison shrugged off her sister’s anger. “Aw, she’s just being moody today. She’ll forget about it in an hour or so.” She cocked her head toward the house. “Might as well come in. Everyone’s waiting.”
Blake nodded. Far from being put off, he found himself admiring her spunk. Gwen appeared to be unwilling to rely on anyone but herself. Her determination was appealing.
It was too fucking bad he’d probably never lay eyes on her again after today.
Guess I blew it big-time . . .
Blake had no chance to finish his thought.
Four women appeared suddenly over the edge of a nearby embankment. Dressed in some sort of scaly-looking skintight apparel, their heads had been completely shaved save for a thin strip of hair down the middle of their skulls. Stranger than their looks were the weapons they carried. Long knives were sheathed at their hips and a couple of the women carried spears.
The two who weren’t armed with spears wore some kind of bejeweled adornment that looked like a snake winding up from their hand to the crook of their arm. The jewels were alight, flashing with strange colors.
Addison stiffened. “Holy shit, we’ve got trouble.”
Blake looked toward the women. They didn’t look friendly and were advancing rapidly. “You know these people?”
A frown turned down Addison’s lips. “I hadn’t planned on meeting them, but I guess I’ve got no choice now. They’ve got their ass-kicking gear on.”
Blake reached for the weapon holstered under his jacket. “Not necessarily.” He stepped in front of Addison. “I’ll handle it.”
“You don’t know what they’ve got,” he heard Addison warn from behind. “I don’t think you’ll be able to stop them with just a gun. Her weapon beats yours any day of the week.”
Blake’s head swiveled. Nothing Addison said made sense, but he didn’t care. A well-aimed bullet could stop an assailant in their tracks. And he was an expert shot.
He thumbed back the safety on his 9 mm, aimed, and got ready to squeeze the trigger. “Federal agent,” he announced. “Stop there and lower your weapons.”
They women didn’t slow their advance. If they heard his warning, they ignored it.
One of the advancing females lifted her hand. Oddly enough Blake noted that her arm was also strangely tattooed. Just like Addison’s.
At the moment he didn’t make the connect
ion.
No time to think about it either.
The jeweled object around the woman’s arm pulsed, sending out a violent bolt of light.
Moments later a searing blast of heat tore through Blake’s arm. The air in his lungs instantly evaporated. Fingers going numb, his gun dropped from his hand. The odor of burnt material and sizzling blood assailed his nostrils.
“Fuck!” he yelped, clamping his hand over the injured area. It felt like someone had stabbed him to the bone with a burning-hot branding iron.
A second flare whizzed within an inch of his temple. His sunglasses went flying, hitting the ground in a heap of twisted metal and melted plastic. It was so close he felt its heat and saw its blazing kaleidoscope of color. Had the blast hit the mark, his skull would have exploded like a water balloon hitting concrete.
Brain whirring frantically, Blake stared in pure shock at the advancing females. He struggled to make sense of the events as they were unfolding, but none of the pieces came together.
Pulling in a gulp of much-needed oxygen, he felt his stomach do a backflip. Acid rose from his stomach, burning the back of his throat. What the hell’s happening?
He definitely hadn’t been expecting to walk into a war zone when he’d rolled out of bed this morning. Everything around him had taken on a surreal quality, as if he’d somehow stepped from his own world into an entirely different dimension.
An extremely hostile dimension.
The women had ambushed and attacked, with no questions asked. Their only intent seemed to be to annihilate everything in sight.
A fresh volley of blasts sailed past him. He wasn’t the only victim in plain sight. A man’s scream of agony hit his ears, turning into a long, low moan of the mortally wounded.
Realization hit Blake. The old man! He started to head back toward the dock.
Grabbing a handful of his jacket, Addison pulled him backward and swung him around. “Lucky’s gone!” she shouted, dragging him after her. “We need to leg it!” Her strength and speed were impressive.
Blake had no choice but to shift his ass into high gear and go with her. He didn’t know what those women were armed with, but they clearly had the upper hand.
