Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5)

by Geri Krotow

“Are you okay, Joy?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine, really I am. Maybe just a little tired from starting a new job.”

  “Of course you are.” Winnie nodded emphatically. “And let’s not even talk about what happened yesterday... On a different topic, have you seen the schedule for next month? We’re having the sweater class for the kimono jacket you admired on Amy last month. It’s straight knitting, no seams. Think of it as a big scarf!”

  Winnie handed her the tote over the crowded counter.

  “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Winnie.” Joy took the schedule and dropped it into the bag. Winnie gave out class schedules as if they were a secret chicken noodle soup recipe. A sure cure for whatever ailed a person.

  “You can sign up online or call us here.”

  “I’ll probably do that.”

  It seemed too much to ask, to hope that she’d be free in a week and able to do something as lovely and simple as a knitting class. Without the constant worry over Brad’s welfare and Farid’s case.

  Hot and tired, she had to get out of the jam-packed shop. Her agitation was so great she didn’t even stop to tell Winnie that she’d progressed to more complicated patterns. The tickle in her stomach was turning into a full-fledged GERD attack. She needed quiet and space. No more thoughts about men and relationships.

  As she drove out of Coupeville on the way north, it was tempting to turn toward General Grimes’s house in the woods. But her cell phone had no messages from Brad or the general. Neither did her email.

  Nothing to do but go home.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “YOU DIDN’T NEED to drive me home, but thank you.” Emily sat in Ben’s small fuel-efficient car as he maneuvered across Deception Pass onto Fidalgo Island.

  “It’s my pleasure, and the least I could do since you wouldn’t let me buy you dinner.”

  “I told you, no dates. We’re colleagues, and we can be friends.”

  “That’s right, friends. I know I take all my work friends out hoping they’ll let me spring for a meal.”

  “You’re not being fair, Ben.”

  “Tell me how you got interested in knitting.” She admired the way he didn’t hold grudges, the way he changed the topic as smoothly as she’d seen him care for a newborn who needed extra attention. He was the senior pediatrician at Naval Hospital Oak Harbor, and the scuttlebutt was that he was also the Navy’s best. It was only a matter of time before he got transferred to a bigger base, a teaching hospital, where he’d be able to reach more patients and instruct residents.

  At least, that was what Emily thought.

  “I learned to knit as a child. My grandmother taught me. I picked it up again after my husband died. It gave me something to do with my hands and kept me from going crazy those first couple of years after he got sick and then died. After a while I realized it’s truly a passion of mine, and I started making my own designs.”

  “I find it impressive that you’re as accomplished at knitting as you are at nursing.”

  “Thank you.” She was grateful for the dark interior of the car; she hated when anyone saw her blush. Her pale skin made her look like a beet when she did.

  “You’re taking the next left.” She didn’t want him to miss the awkward turnoff.

  “I remember.” His profile was strong, but his mouth curved into a smile and she found herself wondering just how soft those lips of his were.

  Was this how she was finally going to break her decade-long mourning period?

  “You’re not the first man I’ve dated, you know.”

  “I didn’t think I was. And we’re not dating, remember?”

  “I’ve tried to date other guys, and I’ve gotten as far as a few weeks, but it never worked out.”

  He pulled into her long drive. “I don’t need your history tonight, Emily.”

  “It’s just that a lot of people assume I’m gun-shy because my husband died when we were still newlyweds. I loved Peter, but I’ve done my grieving and moved on. My life is full.”

  Ben didn’t respond as he put the car in Park and turned off the ignition. His windows were down and his moonroof open. The sound of the wind as it rustled across the grass in the fields surrounding her subdivision, the distant sound of waves hitting West Beach, the occasional hoot of a great horned owl—they all soothed her and helped her feel not quite as foolish as she supposed she should.

  “Ben, I don’t want you to think it’s you. But I’m not ready—”

  She stopped as he unbuckled first his belt and then hers. And reached over the console to grasp her face in his hands. His elegant masculine hands revealed all their strength and gentleness as they held tiny babies. She’d noticed those hands when she’d worked alongside him.

  “Emily, all I want to do is kiss you. May I?”

  She blinked and nodded, unwilling to miss out on this. Just in case...

  Several minutes later Ben lifted his mouth from hers, and she was very, very grateful she’d opted for just in case.

  “Thank you, Emily.” His voice, usually so smooth and commanding at the hospital, was rougher, huskier. Sexy as all get-out.

  “Thank you, Ben.”

  He stroked her cheek once more before he pulled back and got out of the car. Emily tried to gather her thoughts as he walked around the front of the vehicle, but there was nothing to gather.

  He’d left her unable to focus on anything but her reaction to his kiss.

  Her door opened and she slid out, rising to her full height, which meant she reached his shoulder.

  “You don’t have to walk me to the door, Ben.” Really, this was getting a little silly. Unless... Did he expect to come in?

  “I don’t do anything I don’t want to, Emily. That’s something you’ll figure out as we get to know each other better.”

  “Ben, this doesn’t have to be the start of anything. I’m not expecting it to.”

  They were at her front door, and she slid her key in the lock. Inside, loud barking commenced.

  “You have a dog?” he asked.

  “Two. You?”

  “Three.”

  “You have three dogs?”

  “I rescued them from the shelter last Christmas. I couldn’t take one and leave the other two.” He shrugged.

  “And I thought I was crazy with my two. Plus eight cats, but only three live inside.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Emily. See you in the morning.”

  * * *

  TECHNOLOGY WAS ONE of Joy’s best friends as it allowed her to keep her calendar up-to-date with the ease of one entry, whether it was via phone, laptop or tablet. Still, after years of post-graduate education, whenever she was stymied over a case she wasn’t afraid to rely on more basic old-tech methods.

  She sat at her kitchen table minutes after she returned from the book signing and quickly wrote down everything she knew about Farid’s village from what General Grimes had testified and Brad had told her. With each mark of her pencil on the yellow legal pad, she hoped to put the memory of Brad’s kisses further from her thoughts and increase her chances—their chances—of finding out who the unknown terrorist was. The GERD and her nerves were agitated because this hadn’t been solved. Her reaction didn’t have anything to do with Brad.

  But his kisses... His lips hadn’t disappointed.

  She put her pencil down.

  It wasn’t her imagination. Their physical chemistry was as strong as it had ever been when they were unable to act on it. Brad felt it, too; that was obvious from the way he’d grabbed her and held her against the undeniable erection under his cargo pants.

  There wasn’t anything keeping them apart at this point—if she was willing to give up everything she’d worked so hard for. If he was willing to let go of his past and try again. She wasn’t. He wasn’t.

  At least, she hadn’t been willing to change. Those kisses certainly could’ve been game changers in other circumstances...

  But it wasn’t hi
s kisses that compelled her to help Brad. He was an honorable man, and this was the right thing to do, would’ve been the right thing, even if they shared zero chemistry.

  Her phone vibrated and she looked at the screen, expecting a local number.

  Maria Alexander.

  “Mom!”

  “Hi, sweetheart. We saw CNN earlier and were concerned about what they’re reporting. Was it very close to you, the explosion?”

  “Not really.” The less said to her mom, the better. There wasn’t any sense in worrying her or her father.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m so busy with my new job and getting out of the Navy that I’ve barely kept up with the news.” Lying to her mother topped her list of most shameful activities.

  “Speaking of which, how’s the new job?”

  Her mother was thousands of miles away in one of Joy’s favorite cities, and it sounded as though she was in the same room. That didn’t seem fair, not when Joy needed her right here, beside her. She actually ached for one of her mother’s hugs.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Your dad and I are doing well, thanks. Now, no chitchat. It’s me, honey. How are you really?” Her mother’s flair for the dramatic, normally annoying, was oddly comforting her.

  “Hanging in there. It’s...complicated.”

  Her mother’s warm chuckle brought tears to her eyes.

  “When is it not complicated with you, darling?”

  “Have I always been that difficult?”

  “You’re not difficult, Joy. You’re just too smart for most of the men on the planet. This is about a man, right?”

  “Kind of.”

  “So you’ve met someone. Well, that happened more quickly than I expected. Especially with you out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Mom, Whidbey isn’t the middle of nowhere. Seattle is only two hours away, as is Vancouver. You and Dad will see when you come out and visit.”

  “We will indeed. You’re still planning on coming to Paris for Christmas, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Will Tommy and Elaine be there?” She referred to her brother and sister-in-law.

  “Tommy’s not sure he’ll be able to get leave, but they’re working on it.” Tommy had followed in their father’s footsteps and was also a Foreign Service officer. He was a junior in the State Department, on his second post, in Djibouti. He’d met his wife in the Peace Corps after college.

  She felt a sudden pang of self-doubt. “Mom, I have to go—I’ve got a case I’m working on. Can I call you back in a few days?”

  “Tomorrow we’re going to London with the British Ambassador and his wife, but we’ll be back by the weekend. We’ll catch up then if that works for you. Try to call me on Skype next time.”

  Mom loved to use Skype; she said she felt as if she was in the same room with Joy. Joy suspected her mother wanted to see if she was really healthy and happy.

  “Sure, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie.” They ended the connection, and she fiddled with her phone. She needed to talk to Brad, to work through her notes and memory of the case with him.

  The dozen or so lines of text she’d written blurred in front of her.

  Her perfect life had imploded in the hours since yesterday morning.

  * * *

  TWO HOURS LATER Joy wasn’t any further with her private investigation. She stood up from the kitchen table and lifted her arms over her head. It was almost midnight, and she’d have to be up early to go into the office.

  The thought of being at work exhausted her—having to pretend she had nothing on her mind but her new job, that she wasn’t trying to figure out a puzzle that had life-or-death consequences.

  Sleep wouldn’t come easy, so she decided to get ready for bed and try to take her mind off everything. It looked as though Brad was safely entrenched at General Grimes’s or elsewhere, at least for the night. Until she heard from him or found out whether Grimes remembered anything else that would help, there was nothing more she could do.

  She’d never been comfortable admitting her own powerlessness.

  Good old Navy training kicked in, and she went methodically through her nightly routine, taking off her makeup and brushing her teeth.

  * * *

  IT SEEMED DARKER around Joy’s house than it had at General Grimes’s. He still couldn’t believe the old man had handed him the keys to his Wrangler.

  “Take it and go out the back road.”

  “I can’t put you at risk here, too, General.”

  “The news is reporting that they’re closing the case. No one’s looking for you anymore, or not publicly at any rate. You know as well as I do that my security detail told your boss you were here the minute they identified you. He won’t be worried now, but you may have one angry guy on your hands. We also both know that if anyone was going to come here, asking more questions, they already would have. Just be very careful about saying anything related to Farid or his village on open comms, at least until you get your information further up the chain.” For a man like General Grimes, a reporting senior would never be more than a link in the chain of command.

  They’d shaken hands and Brad had promised to have the vehicle back to Grimes as soon as possible.

  What the Jeep lacked in shock absorbers, it made up for in fun driving. He contented himself with letting the wind blow through the open windows as the moon played hide-and-seek with the clouds racing across the inky sky.

  He’d parked the car in dense brush a mile from Joy’s and hoofed it the rest of the way, careful to stay hidden from the road. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the news media reported. He was already exposed by his simple action of not staying ashore through the op, and then his disruption of their attempted aircraft takedown. They knew by now that he was an undercover operative, in place to take them down. The people who were out to hurt innocent Americans didn’t think for a minute that he was dead. And they wouldn’t, not until they had his body as proof.

  All the lights were out at Joy’s, except for the soft glow from an upstairs window. He leaned over the side of the house from his perch on her stone deck and figured it was the master bedroom.

  Joy’s bedroom.

  Damn it, he wished they’d met under different circumstances. Where time didn’t matter and they had nothing but long nights in front of them.

  He told himself it wouldn’t make any difference. He’d still be doing this kind of work. Which meant no more serious relationships. Joy deserved better—and wasn’t she seeking something better by making a nice life for herself out here?

  Still, a man could dream.

  Just not now. He’d have to save his fantasies for after he’d wrapped up this case and Joy was nowhere near the bastards who dealt in death.

  He let himself into her house with the key she’d given him; opening her door reminded him of the way he’d entered her place yesterday. It had been far too easy—and the idea of anyone else breaking in made him clench his fists. Once inside, he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs. If she was sleeping he’d leave her and settle on the couch. Whether she was awake or asleep, he needed to know she was safe.

  The sounds of splashing water and a low-throated humming came out of the bathroom as he neared the door. He hated to scare her or invade her privacy.

  He also hated that he couldn’t interrupt her in a sexier way.

  Silence from the bathroom. She’d heard something.

  “Joy, it’s me, Brad.”

  “Nice time to stop by, Ivy.” As tough as her tone was, he also detected the quaver. He felt bad about scaring her. He’d brought enough darkness into her life over the past forty-eight hours. Less than that, actually.

  “Grimes gave me the keys to one of his cars.”

  “Wait, let me come out.”

  “No, take your time.” She needed to relax. And sleep. He could use some sleep, too. “We can talk after you’
re done, or even in the morning. I’ll crash on your sofa.” Where he could monitor her front door and the sliding glass doors in back. So she’d be out of his reach... You don’t want to behave nicely. You want to...

  “No!”

  “No what?” Joy stood in front of him, wearing a thick robe. Her face was obscured in shadow; the bathroom light behind her was the only source of brightness in the entire room.

  “No, as in ‘no, I don’t want to interrupt your routine.’”

  She smelled pretty and fresh, just like the Navy lieutenant commander he’d originally met in Gitmo. No matter how starched her collars had been, her scent was never less than utterly feminine.

  The woman standing there—this was the Joy he’d imagined asking for a date. Before he’d unleashed the hounds of hell...

  “This isn’t my routine, Ivy. I usually brush my teeth and wash my face around nine. Then I’m asleep by ten.” She was guarding herself from him. Part of her defensive posture had always been to call him “Ivy.”

  “Hell, I didn’t know the Boat School’s routine was still imprinted on you.”

  She smirked; Boat School was slang for the US Naval Academy.

  “Not all of us are almost-PhDs.”

  She slipped back into the banter that had helped them lighten their load in Norfolk. They’d needed to relieve the pressure when they’d had military and political heavyweights breathing down their necks during Farid’s case.

  He knew how he’d dreamed of relieving that stress, and how he’d like to dispel the tension that pressed in on them now.

  “Joy—”

  “Let’s go to the kitchen.” She walked past him, into the hallway. Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe. She wanted the same thing he did, but she’d decided it couldn’t happen. And her decision was the sanest option.

  “Good idea,” he said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TEN MINUTES LATER they had Irish coffees in front of them. The light over the stove threw long shadows and accentuated the dark smudges under her eyes. He hated being the cause of it.

  “Don’t you need to sleep before work tomorrow?” he asked.