by Misty Evans
The floor under Bianca’s feet rolled, making her shift to keep her balance. Her stomach was empty, but it threatened to bring up dry heaves. Backing away from the gun and whiskey bottle, she hugged her briefcase and leaned her butt against the cabinet to steady herself. There was nothing inside the briefcase that would prove Cal was a pawn in a government cover-up, but like him, she needed something to hang on to. Cal had given her this briefcase the day she graduated from MIT. It had become her lucky charm.
Right now, she needed all the luck she could get.
The only proof she had that Operation Warfighter had been compromised before Cal’s team even hit the ground was in her head—something she’d accidently come across while investigating a cult leader several days ago—and it was circumstantial at best.
But she knew when she was being followed. Knew when her phones had been tapped and her emails were being read. Hell, she was one of the NSA’s most elite eavesdroppers. She better damn well know when she became a target of the very government she served.
Her encrypted cell phone buzzed inside the briefcase and Bianca startled. She did that a lot these days…jumping at every noise, every shadow. Getting distracted by all the cranial activity inside her head.
Pulling out the phone, she glanced at the display. Punto. Bianca shifted her thought process, clearing her head of blown missions, Big Brother, and bullets with her name on them. She had to pretend she was at work and not let on she was about to disappear. She raised her voice to be heard above the waves and growing wind outside. “Hey, Ronni. What’s up?”
FBI agent Ronni Punto was part of the Southern California Violent Crimes Taskforce and working undercover on Project Bliss trying to take out a narco-terrorist. “That name I gave you yesterday? Did you have a chance to track it down, land an address?”
Bianca had an eidetic memory. She could recall details of every case she’d ever worked on without the aid of notes or memorization…one of the reasons the NSA had wanted her before the ink was dry on her degree. “The name Fire Chetfler was bogus as you suspected. It’s a codename. I played with the letters and came up with Rife Letcher. Ran that through the system and got a hit. His rap sheet includes everything from petty theft to B&E.”
“Hot damn,” Ronni said. “Where can I find him?”
“Unfortunately, his current physical address won’t help you.”
“Why not?”
Bianca sank down in the padded bench seat and rested her briefcase on the table. Her roiling stomach seemed to appreciate it and settled down. “It’s the state pen. He was convicted of prescription drug tampering and Medicare fraud six months ago.”
“You’re kidding.” Ronni mumbled something Bianca couldn’t hear. “Any possibility he’s running this ring from inside?”
Bianca shrugged even though Ronni couldn’t see her. “Anything’s possible.” The motto she was currently running on and hoping would save her life. “I’m checking into all the visitors he’s had since he’s been in there as well as his lawyer’s background. If there are any leads, I’ll give you a heads-up.”
“Thanks, Marx. You okay?”
Ronni Punto hadn’t been a fan of Bianca’s when she’d joined the taskforce. Bianca was too direct and didn’t know how to play well with her coworkers, often saying things that annoyed them. After surviving the cult operation, however, she and Ronni had grown on each other. Neither of them was the touchy-feely type and there was a sort of respect in that. They each recognized that the other was there to get the job done, and they shared the mutual goal of survival in a world of alpha males and giant egos.
What Ronni didn’t know was that Bianca’s gig on the taskforce was a cover for another mission. One the NSA was keeping off the books and another reason Bianca had to go about business as usual. Whoever was keeping tabs on her knew about Command and Control, but they’d never expected her to come across the damning information she had. “I’m good. Working. You know…”—she cringed—“normal.”
“You sound like you’re in a tunnel with a vacuum running.”
The wind continued to rock The Love Boat and it sounded as if the waves were getting serious about toppling it over. “There’s a storm here. Must be a bad connection. I better go.”
“Before you do, I wanted to say thank you for the books. It’s not easy figuring out how to talk to Adam and understand his bipolar disorder, but we’re making progress. I appreciate your help.”
If anyone knew about mental disorders, it was Bianca. Ronni’s brother was an easy case compared to her mother. “As long as he stays on his meds, you two should be fine.”
“Do you want to grab some lunch today? I’ll be back at the office by noonish.”
“Um.” Bianca wished she could meet Ronni for lunch, and on some levels, it surprised her. She didn’t do the friend thing, but lately it had been nice turning to Ronni for advice. Sharing a laugh with her over a case and learning the art of socializing. “I can’t today. I have a…an appointment.”
“Okay. No worries.” From Ronni’s tone, she knew Bianca was lying, but wasn’t going to hold it against her. She seemed to understand Bianca’s uncomfortableness with relationships. “Talk soon.”
Bianca disconnected, a hollowness filling her chest. She liked Ronni and didn’t like disappointing her, but it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t involve her taskforce coworkers in this.
Fingering the phone, she considered turning it off, maybe even dumping it over the side of the boat. She’d already diverted the GPS signal with a little software code that was all hers, so anyone tracking her phone would think she was miles away at a Starbucks in downtown San Diego. Her usual haunt during the week. But going AWOL from Command and Control would require more than disabling her phone’s GPS and would tip her hand to those tracking her. Not the smartest idea. Not yet anyway. Not until she talked to Cal and got his feedback.
She only hoped he would help her.
She sat back and toyed with the zipper on her briefcase. Her fingers shook ever so slightly, and she clenched her hand tight. She was in serious trouble but this wasn’t her first rodeo. The information she’d intercepted and decoded may have put her life in danger, but now she was here. If anyone could keep her safe until she figured out how to expose the truth, it was Cal.
She thought she’d made it clear to him that her life was in danger, yet he’d taken off with the dog.
Good to know he puts his dog’s wellbeing over my safety.
Cal took Maggie along a familiar route, then doubled back through a less populated area. A week ago, he’d been a mess, anxious every time he went out in public. An expert at threat assessment, he’d never felt unsure of his surroundings. He’d relied on his unit, his team, to always have his back. Once they were gone, his mind continued to be stuck in Afghanistan. Every noise made him jump. Every person who stuck their hands in their pockets was suspect. He felt claustrophobic in every store. The places to hide an IED were too numerous.
Even outside, tall buildings were hide sights for snipers. Every corner was the perfect place for an ambush.
He felt like a walking target.
The only place semi-comfortable for him was on the water. The minute he saw the boat for sale, he knew it was the only place he’d find peace. What he found when he showed up to take ownership, was Maggie.
Since then, she’d become his “unit.” She had his back, kept him centered. Calmed him down when the anxiety hit. He still struggled with crowds and entering buildings, but he was doing better thanks to her.
The marina had two escape routes, a parking lot, and the shack with the office and rental equipment. From his location, Cal could see all of it. Vehicles in the lot were few, none with tinted windows or out-of-state licenses. No faces stared out from Chewy’s shack or any of the boats. Because of the storm, few souls were out, making his reconnaissance easier.
…After what I’ve stumbled across, you’re the only man who can protect me…
…I know what hap
pened with Operation Warfighter…
Bianca’s words looped like a flimsy rubber band through his mind as the wind drove rain into his face. His naturally suspicious nature was conflicted. Maybe she was telling the truth, and in that case, he needed to know what she’d discovered and why she needed protection.
If she was pulling a drama queen act and going for an Oscar, he needed to know the why of that as well. Why not hand him the divorce papers and be done? Why imply she needed him when all she wanted was to kick his ass to the curb like the US government had done thirteen days ago?
Either way, seeing her stirred up feelings he’d tried long and hard to shut down. She was kryptonite. His Achilles heel. Her simple presence—that librarian look and genius IQ behind the glasses—undid him every fucking time. He wanted to strip her naked and kiss every inch of her body, make her groan and beg for more.
And then he wanted to irritate her with some flippant comment about her “desk job” just to listen to her spout words like “autolatrist” and “kosmokrator.”
How the hell did I end up with her?
He wiped rain from his eyes, slowed Maggie to a walk. Because she saw something in you long before the Navy did. She believed in you.
He wondered if she still did.
…you’re the only man who can protect me…
At a lookout site that offered him a view of the entire marina and boatyard, he tucked himself and the dog behind a set of trees and in between some large rocks. Maggie whined, wanting to head home for breakfast. His own stomach gurgled in reply. “Give me ten, Mags,” he told the dog. “Better safe than sorry.”
He scanned the area, saw nothing and no one out of place. Normally, a few of the old guys would be sitting out on their boats having coffee and reading their papers. This morning, there wasn’t a soul out. He searched the hills behind the marina and saw nothing suspicious. If someone was tailing Bianca, they were good.
But he was patient.
He gave it the full thirty minutes, his headache lifting in the humid ocean air. When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he took Maggie and doubled around the area again, rechecking the obvious sites a man could hide. Sites Cal himself had scoped out and logged in case he ever needed them.
“Paranoid son-of-a-bitch” Butcher had always called him. Cal had never denied it.
Confident no one was following Bianca, and ready for his shower and breakfast, Cal urged Maggie back to a run and headed for the boat.
Chapter Three
Bianca found a pair of binoculars on the bridge. As she stood hidden behind the navigation controls, wishing she’d worn more sea-worthy clothes, she watched Cal running back to the boat.
As per normal, he was in his element—water. He’d been a gifted swimmer even as a kid and had competed nationally in high school.
She’d never learned to swim. The best she could do was dog-paddle and even that was a struggle. Open water made her feel claustrophobic—the opposite of most people. Being in water over her head sent her into a full-fledged panic.
We really couldn’t be more opposite. But opposites did attract. In their case, that was both good and bad. From the day they’d met, she and Cal had come together, broken up, and come together again. First as friends, then as more.
Even now, she couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry between them. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him, every part of her body tingled when he looked at her. If only there weren’t so much bad stuff between them. She wished they could lay all the ugliness down, get out from under it for a few hours, and enjoy coming together once more.
Not just for the physical stuff. For the friendship. Cal had been her best friend since elementary school. She missed him.
While rain pelted the bridge’s windows, Bianca stood transfixed, unable to take her eyes off him. He ran with such ease, his tan face turned up to the rain as his long, sure strides ate up the distance between them. Her parts tingled and her heart beat erratically in her chest.
God, I love you.
She understood the science behind what she was feeling—the chemical releases going on in her brain. Cal was familiar. Cal was safe. Her most precious memories were tied to him. Her happiest times were rooted in him.
He may have been her polar opposite, but since the day he’d picked a shy girl up off the playground asphalt, brushed pieces of the sharp cinders from her knees, and raised his fists to the school bully who’d made her life hell, Cal had been her hero.
Even when he’d broken her heart.
Now it was time for her to repay the favor. This time the bully was the government she and Cal had sworn to serve. Standing up to that bully would cost her everything…her job, the quiet existence she enjoyed, and quite possibly her life. But the government had already taken the one thing she held most dear—Cal. She wouldn’t let them destroy him as well.
The dog ran by his side, completely soaked and tongue lolling from the side of its mouth. They hit the boardwalk and slowed to a jog. She was sure the dog was smiling.
Through the binoculars, Bianca could see the animal was missing vital male parts, so it must be female. That might explain the adoration in the dog’s eyes. Bianca had never met a female yet who could resist the absolute alpha male prowess Cal exuded.
Hell, she’d been at restaurants with him where the male waiters hit on him.
The thing none of them realized was that he was a very dangerous man. A weapon the US had trained and given specialized skills. When she told him about Senator Halston, Cal would want to use those skills on the man.
What to do? Could she keep her husband away from the senator until the worst of Cal’s anger subsided and she could convince him to go along with her rational, logical plan? Cal would be out for blood, and if he went after the senator his way—with violence—she’d be forced to rein him in.
She couldn’t physically stop Cal from doing anything. And she didn’t want to notify authorities that he was hunting down a United States senator.
Cooper, the leader of the Southern California Violent Crimes Taskforce, could possibly step in if she needed him. He was a secretive guy himself, and she knew a few of those secrets.
If necessary, she wasn’t above blackmailing Cooper to gain his cooperation, but she didn’t think she’d need to stoop that low. He valued her—at least her brain—and once you were part of Cooper Harris’s team, the man would move mountains for you.
She preferred to do things her way, and if she involved Cooper, he’d take charge. He’d also end up in the crosshairs with her. Best not to involve him unless she was left with no other alternative.
She lowered the binoculars as Cal and the dog came aboard and headed down the stairs, oblivious to her in her hidden vantage point.
“B?” he called over the noisy rain, and his deep voice made her pulse jump. There was the usual irritated edge to his voice, but something else as well. “Where are you?”
Worry? Was that what she heard in his voice? Sure had been a hell of a long time since he’d worried about her.
She had to do this. She had to tell him. What happened after that would be up to him.
Leaving the binoculars behind, she flipped on the tiny camera she’d installed by the boat’s windshield so she could keep an eye on the marina’s entrance. Grabbing the handrail, she steadied herself. The storm might buy her an hour or two—keep Cal from going anywhere and slow down anyone searching for her—but she needed to figure out a way to keep him sequestered, and her ass out of the line of fire until she could find physical evidence against the senator she could take to the Justice Department. They wouldn’t bring him up on charges over hearsay.
And hearsay was all she had.
Bianca sighed. After what she’d put Cal through already, he was more likely to toss her overboard than become her bodyguard.
Cal dried his hair with a towel, watching Bianca descend the stairs. She was as wet as he was, strands of her hair sticking to her graceful neck. She’d removed her glasses, and if not f
or the clothes and the fear on her face, she’d look like she’d just stepped out of the shower.
Oh, the fun they’d had in the shower. “What were you doing up there?”
She took the other end of the towel and wiped her face off with it. “Watching you.”
Warmth spread in his veins. “Afraid I wouldn’t come back?”
Her eyes met his. “Yes.”
One simple word but it packed a hell of an accusation. “I always came back, B.”
“You almost didn’t this last time.” Her voice was soft but forceful. “I told you that would happen. The odds—”
“The odds?” He took the towel, then wiped off his neck. “Fuck the odds. Three of my men died. I should have died with them.”
“You nearly did. You knew that joining the SEALs could leave me a widow.”
How many times had they had this discussion? “Being a SEAL is my life.”
Was my life.
He didn’t miss the flare of hurt in her eyes, but before he could backtrack and try explaining that she’d always been even more important to him, Maggie decided to shake off the rain.
Water flew all over Bianca’s legs. She let out a yelp and jumped backward. “There are over a million feral cats in San Diego County and you adopt a dog?”
Cal grabbed a dry towel from a bin above the bed and tossed it at her. She’d always been a cat person, feeding the strays in the neighborhood even after her mother had slapped her for “wasting food.” He shook his head. “A million feral cats in one county?” She was a walking book of facts and an expert at exaggeration. “Come on.”
“You want to see the stats from Animal Control?” She dried her legs and feet while Maggie panted, looking at Cal and waiting patiently for her kibble. “L.A.’s even worse. The number runs around three mil.”
So maybe she wasn’t exaggerating. Being married to Bianca was like being married to his own form of Google—except in an annoying, infuriating way. “The towel is for Maggie.”
