by Geri Krotow
“It’s okay. We’re two adults, and we like each other. What we want to do in our private time is our business.”
“I get that, Miles. But the things we’ve seen together these past few days—they’d bond any two officers, don’t you think? It’s possible we’re caught up in the heat of the moment.”
“No, I don’t think that at all, Roanna. We could just as easily have made life a living hell for each other, refused to cooperate or go after the same goal. Our kind of chemistry isn’t common, and it’s not due to the intensity of this investigation.”
He watched her digest the idea. Her defenses were down to nil but she still wouldn’t admit it.
“I’m not saying we don’t have great chemistry, Miles. My point is that just because we made love on Sunday doesn’t mean we’re automatically going to do it again.”
He laughed. “There’s nothing automatic about making love to you, Ro.”
“Number three!” The waiter-chef-owner shouted out the number on their receipt. Miles stood up.
“I’ve got it.” He walked the few steps over to the counter and picked up a tray with two baskets of hamburgers and glistening French fries.
“Ketchup’s on your table.”
“Thanks.” Miles took the tray back to the table where Ro had already moved their drinks to the side.
“Good thing I don’t have bad cholesterol. This is a heart attack in a basket.” Ro squirted ketchup over her fries, and added more salt to the entire meal.
“Well, my cholesterol isn’t so hot. They’ve already put me on statins.” At her raised brow he nodded. “Yeah, I know, I don’t look like I’d have a cholesterol problem, but it’s genetic. My grandfather had a heart attack and died at age thirty-seven. My father had his at fifty, but he’s still here, thank God. He works out nearly every day at the gym.”
He thought about forcing the conversation back to her idea that their lovemaking had been a mistake, but they were both beat. It had been a long six days, and they had the memorial service to get through tomorrow.
He decided not to wait any longer. He bit into his burger and enjoyed the whole fatty thing. It was delicious.
But not as delicious as watching Ro devour hers.
“You were hungry, too,” he said around bites.
“Famished.” She took a sip of soda through her straw. “I don’t eat like this all the time so it tastes even better when I do, if that makes sense.”
“Absolutely.”
They enjoyed a companionable silence except for the sound of their appreciative groans.
Ro wiped her mouth when she’d finished her burger.
“Now I know why you’re at the gym all the time. I thought you were keeping in shape because you had to, to be able to function fully with your prosthetic.”
“That’s true to a point, but I’ve been a gym rat for years. I used to eat really clean to the point of being nuts about it. I’ve chilled out. I’m older, and after living through the blast that I did, I value moderation more than ever. I enjoy everything I want to, without overdoing it.”
The smile she gave him made her eyes light up and he felt he could go run a marathon from the sheer pleasure it conveyed.
“What?” he asked warily.
“There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Warrant. I thought you were an overmuscular, geeky, bomb-defusing dude. Now you’re talking like some kind of tree hugger.”
He laughed.
“Tree hugger. That’s not one I’ve been accused of before.” He threw her a wink and she giggled.
“Careful. If you have too much fun the Lieutenant Commander Brandywine we know may disappear.”
Their eyes met and Miles sucked in a breath.
He’d loved a few women in his life, made love to several more. He knew what pure chemistry and lust were. He enjoyed them both immensely. But this thing between him and Ro was life-altering. Had been since the day he’d dumped the cat in her arms.
And he was going to jump her right here in this burger place if she kept looking at him like that.
“We need to address how to stay in constant contact with each other in the event anything unexpected happens with this case.” Personal security was a safer topic with Ro since getting her naked in this diner was a nonstarter.
“We have our cell phones. Isn’t that enough?” She toyed with her straw.
“Only if we’re on a call with each other.” He hated to think of her in trouble and unable to reach him. “I want you to promise me that if you find yourself in any kind of trouble you’ll dial my number, and leave your phone on. That way I can listen to whatever’s going on if can’t talk.”
“Sure, no problem. And you do the same.” She glanced out the door of the diner, toward the street. In profile she was as beautiful as ever, her fine features accentuated by her long neck and short, pixie haircut.
She turned back to him as if she felt the weight of his stare. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed.
“Ro.”
“Yes?” Her voice was low and soft. She felt it, too.
“We’re good together.”
* * *
RO COLLECTED their trash and carried the baskets to the counter since she didn’t see a trash can in the dining area.
Breathe, girl, breathe.
It wasn’t fair that Miles could break through her “B.S.,” as he called it. Not only had he broken through her defenses, he’d turned her on in a wicked way.
You need to get back to the office.
Miles was quiet as he held the door open for her and let her exit the café first. She slipped her sunglasses out of her black uniform purse and perched them on her nose. The glare of the sunlight off the water was blinding without shades. Only after she had them on did she brave a glance at Miles.
His eyes were also covered by his sunglasses but his expression seemed neutral. Casual.
“I meant what I said, Ro.” He leaned toward her as they walked side by side. “I happen to think we make a great couple.”
She stopped and faced him.
“It’s not that simple, Miles. What I started to say back there, before we were distracted by our food, is that I’m not willing to stick my neck out for a casual relationship with someone I’d have to see at work after we stop dating.”
She watched his expression go from patient to incredulous to grim.
“Let me get this straight, Ro.” Miles had his hands on his hips and she didn’t miss how purely masculine his stance was. “You think that what we had Sunday night was casual?”
She’d pissed him off.
“Let me explain, Miles.”
“No, you’ve said enough. It’s my turn to do some talking. You agree, or at least don’t disagree, that we make a good couple. But you’re also certain we wouldn’t amount to more than a casual fling. Do I have that right?”
“Maybe.” Stubborn pride kept her from completely relenting.
He gave a low whistle. “You really have it all figured out, don’t you, Commander?”
She ignored his dig at her self-righteous demeanor.
“No, I don’t, but this isn’t an intel brief, Miles. This is the truth. I’m a realist—it’s my job to be factual. How many active-duty couples do you know who’ve made a go of it? How many do you know who hooked up once or twice, only to have to face each other in the office or on the hangar deck every day until one of them transferred? How awkward is that?”
Miles wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He was looking past her, his expression resolute.
He shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, Ro, you just assume that we’d have a few rolls in the hay, and that’d be it? Who do you think I am?”
She didn’t say anything. Inexplicably, she found herself on the
verge of tears.
Do not cry.
She felt a tear escape and slide down her cheek. She would have ignored it if she thought Miles wouldn’t notice. But Miles noticed everything.
Damn EOD.
“Ro, what’s this really about?” His voice was gentle, too gentle.
She wiped away more tears.
“I cry when I get really angry. It doesn’t mean I’m sad or anything.” Her explanation sounded feeble even to her.
Miles sighed and put his hand on her elbow to start them both walking again.
“Can I get one thing straight?”
“What?” She sniffled.
“How long does a casual fling last?” His smile made light of what had been a heavy conversation.
Miles had more to him than she’d ever given him credit for.
* * *
MILES AND LUCKY finished up their run early Tuesday evening with a walk to cool down. As his breathing slowed and Lucky relaxed her gait, Miles took in the forest scenery that met the edge of the road. Low-growing ferns kissed the sides of the larger trees, creating a bright green carpet in an otherwise sunless area. Except for a few shafts of light that pierced the canopy, the road was in perpetual shade.
Miles loved how Lucky sniffed only when something seemed different to her. She was a great dog who remained buoyant throughout their runs and just paused to check out the unfamiliar. She knew these roads better than he did, he mused.
They were a half mile from home, and Miles was starving. He’d grabbed a banana before they left but it was long gone after a seven-mile run. They reached his driveway and Miles bent to pick up the newspaper. As much as he relied on his iPad and laptop, he liked to read the Whidbey Times and know what was going on in the civilian community as well as the naval air station.
Lucky growled and the short brown hair on the back of her shoulders stood up in warning.
Miles froze and looked around. Sure enough, there was a stranger on his front porch.
“Can I help you?”
The stranger turned around and smiled.
“Miles, how are you? I see I’ve caught you at just the right time.”
Commodore Sanders.
“Lucky, it’s okay.” He and Lucky walked up to the commodore.
“What can I do for you, sir? Would you like to come in and have a coffee?” Miles wasn’t about to invite the commodore for a meal. He didn’t have a lot of food in the house, and besides, this was unprecedented, to have his boss show up unexpectedly at his private home.
“No, no, I just wanted to thank you for what you’ve been doing.” Sanders smiled benevolently at Lucky.
“Ro and I are doing our best.”
“Yes, of course you are.” Sanders stood there as though he couldn’t wait to get off Miles’s porch. Yet he stayed.
“Sir?”
“I’m sorry. This whole tragedy has me in a tailspin. Any chance you and Ro learned something new yesterday?”
“No, sir. We called it an early night. There wasn’t anything actionable. We didn’t get much out of the sheriff’s department today, either.” He wasn’t going to tell the commodore that they’d implicated him by retelling Reis’s story.
“What about the coroner’s report?”
“Nothing other than what I gave you this afternoon, sir.”
Sanders rubbed his chin. “Without it we can’t have full closure. The longer we wait, the longer his family suffers.”
“Understood, sir. We can’t rush the lab results, though.”
“Lab results?” Sanders had an odd expression on his face. This was the same officer who’d heard their report—the coroner took all kinds of blood and bodily fluid samples while Perez’s body had still been on the beach.
“Blood, et cetera.”
“Of course.” The commodore slapped Miles on the shoulder. Lucky stiffened next to his good leg but, to her credit and thanks to his training, she didn’t growl.
“Well, let me know the first news you get.” Sanders took the five steps down to the pavement as quickly as Miles had seen anyone do it.
“Yes, sir.”
Miles waited until the commodore had turned left at the end of his driveway and he knew Sanders couldn’t see his porch. Then he unlocked his front door and let Lucky inside. He unhooked her collar. “Good girl. Watch the house.”
He clicked the door shut behind him and ran down the stairs and back up his driveway, looking down his road. He had a clear view for about a quarter of a mile, where he saw the commodore’s trademark BMW. The commodore was just reaching his car.
Miles turned back and made his way inside. He didn’t want Sanders to catch him spying.
But what the hell had Sanders been doing at his house?
Lucky wasn’t in the foyer.
“Lucky?” He whistled. Lucky bounded up from the basement and barked at him. A short, sharp bark that he recognized as a tell, Lucky’s way of letting him know something was wrong.
“What, girl?”
She barked again and wagged her tail before she bounded back down the basement steps. He followed her to the sliding glass door.
He hadn’t put the bat in the door, in case he and Lucky got locked out. He’d lost his house key more than once on a run. But the bat was in the door as if he’d put it there, to lock it from the inside.
He went back over when he’d unlocked the dead bolt on the front door. He’d been in a hurry—had he heard the bolt click?
No.
Sanders had been in his house.
But why?
He went back upstairs and glanced around his living room. The television was on, a precaution he automatically followed to give the impression that someone was home.
“A lot of good that did, Luck,” he said to the dog who followed him from place to place.
His laptop was still open on the kitchen counter.
“Son of a bitch.” He could kick himself. He’d left the screen saver off because he’d been following a recipe for slow-cooker stew and didn’t want the screen blacking out when he was in the middle of adding spices.
Sanders could have seen everything Miles had perused on the internet for the past several sessions. He scanned his open browser windows. Nothing incriminating—but he didn’t like it that he’d left himself so vulnerable.
Of course, he never would have expected his boss on Whidbey Island to become the enemy.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RO RELISHED THE QUIET of her home. It had only been less than a week since her life had turned upside down. She wished she could blame the Perez investigation for all of it but she knew that was futile.
It would be even easier to blame Krissy and Dick for showing up, acting as though they were fighting—just to help her save face—in an effort to find out how she was really doing. And the impending visit by her mother wasn’t something she looked forward to, either.
Her family was convinced she was crazy. They’d never understood her need to get out of Trenton, to see the world. Of course it was natural for them to think she’d never make it without them...and without her fantasy of a life to return to.
She could never go back to Trenton. It wasn’t the location. It was her family. And it was who she’d been before she’d discovered what she was capable of.
She had thought she’d found herself, her dreams, in the navy. Now, she wondered if this ‘getting to know oneself’ was actually a lifelong occupation.
She held up her knitting to the light. The deep red hue of the lamb’s wool turned fuchsia when backlit by the sun’s rays. This hat would be great for a woman with a deeper skin tone. As she moved the needles through the stitches, her mind wandered. She’d like to make herself a sweater for next fall and this was a good time to get yarn on sale.
Thoughts of baby items popped into her consciousness as she remembered Krissy was pregnant.
She was going to be an aunt.
No matter how much Krissy had hurt her and annoyed her over the years, this was about blood. Her baby niece or nephew deserved a nice hand-knitted outfit from their auntie.
Krissy had left one of her ubiquitous notes on the refrigerator indicating that she and Dick had gone for a long day-trip into Seattle and not to expect them back for dinner. Ro planned on eating something light and easy and simply enjoying a quiet night to herself. Tomorrow was going to be hell with the memorial service to get through.
A glass of wine might help. She stood up to stretch and see if she had an open bottle in the refrigerator. The harsh knock followed by her doorbell startled her. She dropped her knitting on the sofa and ignored her rapidly beating heart. It wasn’t like Miles to come over without calling.
She squinted through the peephole.
It wasn’t Miles.
She unfastened her chain lock and opened the front door.
“Karen, what a surprise!”
Karen Sanders stood on the front porch. Her hair was askew and her eyes darted back and forth.
Was that booze she smelled?
“Oh, uh, hi. Glad to see you.” Karen stepped over the threshold and into her front entryway.
Ro accepted Karen’s superficial hug. To do anything else would have been too awkward in the small foyer and with just the two of them there.
“So this is how you live. Really nice, Roanna. Cuter than I’d imagined for you.”
What the hell?
Ro remained silent. She didn’t want to appear rude, nor did she want to encourage Karen to stay any longer than necessary.
“I’m sorry to crash in on you like this, but there’s something I have to talk to you about.” Karen looked up from a knickknack Ro had purchased in Bahrain.
“Okay, well, why don’t you come on in? I was just about to, um, have a cup of tea.” She ditched her plan for her own glass of wine. She really didn’t want to be drinking with the commodore’s wife. Especially since Karen smelled as if she’d already had her afternoon cocktails.
