by Geri Krotow
Still, he held the winning hand with his exhaustion plea. And they already had three of the bad guys in custody.
“How soon will the suspects be brought to trial, in your estimation?” The head of Whidbey NCIS asked the question, his gaze frank. Like Brad, he was experienced.
“This will move more quickly than other criminal cases, you know that. Terrorism charges go to the front of the judicial line.” Lots of head nodding, men and women sipping coffee. Brad knew how they felt; he knew they had a new sense of purpose.
“On behalf of the FBI, I have to thank all of you for your cooperation. From everything I’ve heard and seen, this entire team has worked together flawlessly. Well-done.”
“Thank you for your work, Agent Iverson.” A young female NCIS agent spoke up, her gaze inquisitive. “It had to be a hardship going undercover for so many months and then hiding out these past few days.”
“All part of the job. But you’re welcome. Any further questions for me?”
Prayers hadn’t been in his repertoire since he’d lived with Marci’s addiction to drugs, but damned if he wasn’t saying a silent prayer that none of them had any more questions or comments.
“No? Great.” He stood up and made a point of shaking the hand of every officer present.
They’d done a good job, and he was again reminded why he’d sworn an oath to the FBI after having served for so many years as a SEAL. This was what it was about—keeping everyone safe, military, law enforcement and, of course, the public at large. Problem was, he was tired of it all. It was a slow ache in his bones, one that didn’t come from the fatigue or emotions of the past few months and days.
It wasn’t burnout. He’d had that, too, and come back from it more than once.
The way he felt now was an intuitive understanding that he was done with this kind of work. For whatever reason, his life’s path needed to change.
You know the reason.
He had to be crazy, but since Mike had pronounced the case more or less closed, he hadn’t been able to think about anyone or anything other than Joy. About what he had to do to make a fresh start with her.
As he closed the distance to her office in General Grimes’s Wrangler, he told himself, You have to do this right.
He couldn’t go to Joy and say “hey, the case is closed, let’s get together.” She deserved to be wooed, to be treated like the woman she was. Full of integrity. Honest. Funny. Sexy as hell. Beautiful.
“Well, son of a bitch.”
Gravel spewed from under the Jeep’s tires as he made an immediate U-turn and headed back to Deception Pass Bridge. Off the island, toward Seattle.
* * *
“THANKS FOR MEETING me on such short notice, Em.”
They sat at the diner on Highway 20 that specialized in grilled cedar plank salmon sandwiches with its own secret roasted red pepper sauce. Sunlight warmed her back as a gentle but chilly breeze came in off the Sound. The rays made Emily’s eyes seem luminous, almost angelic.
She’d proven to be an angel to Joy on numerous occasions over the past two years.
“I’m just glad I had the time off today. I’m on a three-day break, which, believe me, I need.”
“What’s going on?”
“Work’s been insane. You know the theory that more babies are conceived during a rough winter because people are stuck at home? Well, last year was no exception. All those cold winter nights are being celebrated in Labor and Delivery.”
Joy laughed. “How many babies are you delivering?”
“Usually it’s eight to ten a week, give or take. The last two weeks we’ve delivered thirty-two.”
“Wow! Sounds intense. I’ll stick to my files.”
“Yes, but I get to see the happy side of it, with the start of a new life. You have to deal with the not-so-nice parts of divorce and the ensuing child custody issues.”
“True, but when your job goes bad...” She didn’t want to finish her comment. Naval Hospital Oak Harbor and Em had suffered a terrible loss last spring when a baby didn’t make it.
“Well, that’s part of my job, too. When that happens—yes, it’s very, very sad.”
“Too risky for me. I like to know everything’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t look like it’s all okay right now. Want to tell me what’s up?”
Joy pushed her sweet potato fries around in the paper-lined basket. Even her favorite junk food wasn’t enough to lift her spirits.
“I was helping a friend, a colleague I worked with in Norfolk during a tough trial two years ago. He was here taking care of some...business he had on island. He’s based in Seattle.” She wasn’t sure how much to say about the terrorist cell; nothing was the best option, since she didn’t want to reveal anything she shouldn’t.
“And?”
“Well, he and I, we...”
Em waited.
Joy gave in and told her the truth.
“I think I care a lot about him. And I thought he might care about me. But now his op is over and he’s gone, and I’m not sure I’ll hear from him again. Just like before.”
“His op? Like before?”
Briefly, Joy filled Em in on what had happened between her and Brad since Norfolk. She explained that Brad was FBI—that couldn’t hurt. Joy told her everything, including her own feelings for Brad, hoping against hope that Em might help her understand, decide what to do. Help her see that Brad wasn’t the man she needed. See that she had to cut her losses and move on.
When she finished, she took a deep breath and an equally big gulp of her iced tea. “So, what are you hearing me say?”
Em put her sandwich down, wiped her mouth and folded her hands in front of her.
“Joy, how old are you?”
“Um, thirty-four. But I don’t see how that’s relevant. Brad’s the same age.”
“I get the sense that you can’t or don’t want to share everything he’s doing work-wise. That’s fine. But honestly, it’s the twenty-first century, and there’s this new way of finding out whatever you need to know about practically anything or anyone.”
“If you tell me to go to counseling, I’m going to scream.”
“Nothing that complicated, Joy. You can find out where he lives—use the information you have—and just show up. You don’t know why he’s not reaching out, but from what you’ve told me, my bet is that he believes he’s protecting you from something. His life, his job, maybe his crazy personality.” Emily pointed a finger at Joy. “Because let’s get real. You have to have some crazy in you to even think about being a SEAL. And he was one for how long?”
“Fifteen years?” She wasn’t exactly sure. Discomfort at how little she knew about this man she’d been ready to give up everything for made her skin crawl.
“Go find him, Joy. Show up at his doorstep if you can. Rock his world. Let him know you’re not going anywhere. A guy like that isn’t used to a woman who’s willing to be there for him through thick and thin. He’s gun-shy, sweetie. That’s all.”
“A gun-shy former SEAL and current FBI agent?”
Emily didn’t budge. “You know what I’m talking about. How many Navy guys have you dated, Joy?”
“Several dozen. It’s why I don’t want a relationship with one.”
“Seriously dated, I mean. One drink during happy hour doesn’t count.”
Joy groaned. Emily was always so exacting in her discussions, whether the conversation was about a knitting stitch or about men.
“One or two, maybe three. There were some civilian guys in there, too.”
“Let’s focus on the military guys, and you’ve worked alongside them for as long as I have. They act one way at work, but off duty, alone, they’re a different animal. Statistics show that most of them are actually introverts.”
“Yeah, yeah, I took all the same personality-type tests. Supposedly I’m an introverted, touchy-feely intellect. What does that prove? Zip. Nada.”
“It demonstrates that most of these gu
ys are sensitive. They wouldn’t be able to do their jobs at the level of expertise they do if they weren’t.”
“They’re sensitive, all right. So sensitive they don’t remember to call a girl for over a year.”
“Aha! I knew you had a deep resentment about him. It’s from when you worked together before, isn’t it? What happened there, Joy?”
“Nothing. Not in the way you think or want. Yes, we share an attraction. No, it’s never gotten further than a—” She stopped herself.
Emily’s steady gaze made Joy clench her jaw.
“We’ve kissed, okay? And only recently. Nothing happened until we weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice anymore.”
“Spoken like a Navy JAG.”
“Former. As of right now, as a matter of fact, I’m a full-fledged civilian.”
“Welcome to the real world, Joy.”
“Thanks.”
“In this world, women go after what they want, no matter what. Well, as long as it’s not hurting someone else. And you obviously want Brad. You can’t sit on your hands here. Trust me, he’ll thank you for it, and you’ll thank me for telling you this.”
“What makes you such an expert, Em? You didn’t look too happy when I left you with your guy, Ben. Although he seemed very enthusiastic at your book signing.”
The usually unflappable Emily turned as pink as her hoodie. “He’s just someone I work with. We’re...friends.”
“Do you blush over all the medical professionals you work with?”
“Give it a rest. I’m not ready for anything more than a date or two.”
“Your husband’s been gone for over a decade, Em. It’s time.”
“It was time five years ago, if you ask me. The right guy hasn’t shown up yet. A common occurrence for a career woman on an isolated island in Puget Sound.”
“Whidbey’s not that isolated. And you work on the Naval Air Station, where there have to be at least a zillion single men who’d love to get to know you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get to know them. I’m happy here. Like you, I like my life just as it is.”
“You’ve told me you want to move on. Maybe even leave the island.”
“For the right reasons. A Navy guy who’s going to be uprooted every other year? I’m not sure I want that lifestyle again.”
Joy stayed silent. Like Serena, but in a different way, Emily had been through a horrific experience early in her marriage to a young Navy man. She’d made Whidbey her home after she’d lost her husband.
As much as Joy didn’t want to see Emily leave Whidbey, she couldn’t help thinking giving up a house was nothing compared to the chance to be with the man you wanted to spend your life with.
“You really care about him, don’t you?”
Emily’s hand paused over the soggy fries. “Yes, I suppose I do. Still, he’s so persistent and...and presumptuous. Just because we get along well in the delivery room, he thinks that’ll translate to the outside world—and to the bedroom.”
“Has he asked you into his bedroom?”
“Not in so many words. Let’s say we’ve had our kisses, too.” Emily looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m late.”
“You have today off.”
“I scheduled a mani-pedi and massage. Pamper-me stuff.”
“So you’re doing that for you?” Joy had never seen Emily with polished nails. She kept them short and clean for nursing and for knitting.
“Why not?”
“Kid yourself if you want, Em, but you’re not fooling me. You’ve got the hots for the good doctor.”
“Maybe, but you’ve got a lot more than the hots for your SEAL, Joy. You’ve got the makings of a life-changing relationship. Go find that man.”
Emily stood up from the wooden bench, and Joy followed suit.
As she dumped the contents of her plastic basket into the trash receptacle and placed it in the pile collecting on top, she noticed a blue Jeep Wrangler speeding past. She only caught a brief glimpse of the driver, but she’d know him anywhere.
Brad. And he was driving north. Toward Deception Pass Bridge, which meant he was leaving the island.
She knew he was going back to Seattle, knew the case here was done for him. Her defenses had never let her down before, but in the flash of seeing him again, a pang of regret and longing squeezed something buried in her chest.
Her heart.
* * *
“I’M STOPPING IN at the office today, Mike. Not a new problem or anything.” He spoke on the new Bureau hands-free cell phone Mike had given him before he left Joy’s.
“No, you’ve done enough for a while. Go home, get some rest. Report back on Monday morning. You did a good job, bro.”
“So did you, and my team deserves some extra perks for their hours, Mike.”
“Already done. Most of them are taking the rest of the week off, too. This case has attracted attention at the highest levels. The director is going to brief POTUS in fifteen minutes.”
“You need me on the line for that, Mike. What if he has more questions?”
“Then the director will answer them with the notes you provided earlier. If he needs backup, that’s what I’m being paid the big bucks for. Go home.”
“Right.”
“And, Brad?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you decided to make it real with Joy?”
Brad swerved to avoid a pickup truck that had turned into his lane with no warning.
“Brad?”
“I’m here. Just had to dodge a bad driver. I swear I-5 gets worse every day.”
“Stop avoiding the question, teammate.”
“There’s nothing to avoid. You know she’s the JAG I had to work with to get a villager freed. I trusted her, then and now, and it was the right decision. She was a good shipmate, helped me get through the past few days. Got me to Grimes, where I got this Jeep.”
“You sure she didn’t do anything else for you?”
Crap. Did Mike know about the case files?
“She might have done some searching, tried to unearth some info on the previous case. You know, with...”
He didn’t want to say Farid’s name over an insecure line, and certainly not on a cell phone.
“Gotcha. We’re checking that out, too.”
“Let me do it. Let me talk to him.” He’d love to be able to see Farid face-to-face again. Reassure himself that he and Joy had made the right decision all those months ago.
“You can’t, you know that. We’ll talk about it on Monday. It can wait until then. You still didn’t answer the question, bro.”
“And I’m not going to.”
He disconnected in the middle of Mike’s bark of laughter.
* * *
JOY HAD NEVER done anything this crazy. Driving into Seattle on a work night, when she had to be at work in the morning. The two-hour drive wasn’t such a burden, but doing it twice in less than twelve hours was a bit much.
“Exit in one mile.”
Her GPS told her what she knew—she was close to Brad’s place. She had the address from the information she’d taken while they’d discussed the facts of the explosion. When she’d agreed to help him again.
As she eased off the highway, she entered a residential neighborhood. She wasn’t all that familiar with Seattle and had imagined Brad in an apartment or condo.
Instead, her GPS directed her to a lovely craftsman-style home on a street completely lined with trees. It was obviously Brad’s as General Grimes’s Jeep sat in his driveway.
Butterflies whirled around in her stomach as though she’d swallowed an entire flock. Before she could change her mind, she squared her shoulders and got out of the car.
Wide steps led up to a bright red door, which she thought was a nice touch for a bachelor.
He could have had a woman’s help.
She shoved the irritating image of Brad with another woman out of her mind. This was scary enough.
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The door opened within seconds of her pressing the doorbell.
“Joy.”
He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp, and wearing a gray T-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders. It emphasized the physique that had enabled him to scale West Beach as if it were a child’s playground equipment.
“Hi, Brad.”
“Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
His eyes were surrounded by lines of exhaustion, but their glimmer was unmistakable. He was happy to see her.
“Something like that.”
“Come on in.” He stepped aside, and she caught a whiff of his soap and the clean smell of the house.
Clean wasn’t the right word. The house sparkled. The wooden bannisters and molding gleamed; that had to be the result of hours of physical labor. The deep cherrywood offset the cream wallpaper and simple but elegant brass touches on the light fixtures and switches.
“Brad, this is beautiful.”
He shrugged. “I needed something to do on my weekends.”
“Are you renting or is this yours?” She walked farther into his home and ran her fingers along the wood, relishing the cool, firm feel of it. This was a pleasant change from the modern design of her house.
“I bought it. The Bureau doesn’t move agents around as much as the Navy, unless you really want to transfer.”
“Was it already in decent shape or did you have a lot to do?”
“The bones were all there, but I rebuilt the walls and refinished the molding.”
“That’s an enormous project.”
He was beside her and she wanted to turn toward him but felt suddenly shy, wondering if she’d made a mistake.
It didn’t matter. She was here, and it was time to start living the life she wanted instead of hiding from what she feared.
“Like I said, my weekends were free, at least before I went undercover.” His fingers were in her hair, lifting the strands as he worked his way down to her neck, massaging it.
“Was there a lot of traffic?” he asked.
“Not once I decided to come...oh! That feels so good.” She leaned over to allow him access to her sore muscles.
“Let’s go into the kitchen and get something to drink. Later I can give you a full massage.”
