"We already have ten good candidates," Bobby added. “Ten of the men on that list were given dishonorable discharges either at that time or later in their careers."
"Basically, that means they were kicked out of the Navy," Luke explained.
Syd was overwhelmed. "I can't believe you did all this so quickly—that you actually managed to figure out the connection."
"You figured out the connection," Luke told her. "We just filled in the blanks."
She looked down at the enormous list of names she still held in her hands. "So now what do we do? Contact all these men and women and warn them that they or someone they love—or used to love—is in danger of being attacked?"
"Only a percentage of those men and women are still living in this area," Bobby said.
"A percentage of a billion is still a huge number," Syd countered.
"There's not a billion names on that list," Luke told her.
She hefted the list. "It feels as if there is."
"Most of Alpha Squad's in there," Bobby told her. “The squad came to Coronado for a training op, I remember, and ended up pulling extra duty as BUD/S instructors. There was this one class, where the dropout rate was close to zero. I think three guys rang out, total. It was the most amazing thing, but as they went into Hell Week, we were completely understaffed."
"I remember that," Luke said. "Most of us had done a rotation assisting the instructors, so we ended up shanghaied into helping take these guys through their paces."
"Most of Alpha Squad," Syd echoed, realizing just what that meant. Anyone female and connected to anyone on this list was a potential target for attack. She looked at Luke. "Have you called—"
"Already done," he said, anticipating her question, "I've talked to all the guys' wives except Ronnie Catalanotto, and I left a pretty detailed message on her machine and told her to call me on my cell phone ASAP."
"You know, Lieutenant Lucky, sir," Rio said, "one way to catch this guy might be to set Syd here up as bait, make it look like she's your girlfriend and—"
"Uh-uh," Luke said. "No way."
Well, wasn't he vehemently opposed to that?
"I'm not talking about sending her out into the bad part of San Felipe in the middle of the night," Rio persisted. "In fact, she'll be safer than she is right now, considering we'll be watching her whenever she's alone."
"She lives on the third floor of a house in a neighborhood that's more concrete and asphalt than landscaping,"
Luke argued. "How are you going to watch her? Unless you're hiding someplace in her apartment—"
"We can plant microphones," Thomas suggested. "Set up a surveillance system, have a van down on the street."
"We can bring the skel's attention to you, too." Rio was really excited about this. Syd could tell he'd watched too many episodes of "NYPD Blue." Skel. Oh, brother. "You could go on TV, do an interview, insult him in some way. Claim that there's no way in hell he could be a SEAL. Obviously he's trying to make somebody believe he's one—maybe he's trying to make himself believe it. Throw some reality into his face. Tick him off, then appear in public with Syd, do some kissy-face stuff and—''
"No. This is crazy."
Syd sat down at the conference table, trying to look unaffected and even slightly bored, as if she hadn't just realized that she'd completely misinterpreted that almost-kiss that she and Luke hadn't shared not quite five minutes ago. He'd spun her around, and she'd latched onto him. He hadn't looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her. No, she'd probably been looking at him that way. And he'd stopped laughing because he felt awkward. He wasn't being restrained because they were at his place of work. He simply wasn't interested.
How could she have thought he'd be even remotely interested in her?
Bobby cleared his throat. "You know, this could work."
"Yeah, but think of his reputation," Syd said dryly, "if he were seen in public with me."
Luke turned to look at her, the expression on his face unreadable. "You actually want to do this?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "Are you completely insane? Your job is research, remember? We had an agreement. You're supposed to be the one in the surveillance van, not the one used as bait. Bait. Dear Lord, save me from a conspiracy of fools!"
"Hey, what happened to brilliant?" Syd asked sharply.
He glared at her. "You tell me! You're the one who's lost your mind!"
"Maybe we could get Detective McCoy to pretend she's your girlfriend," Thomas volunteered.
"Oh, that would work," Syd rolled her eyes. "Clearly this guy pays attention to details. You don't think he'd notice that Luke sends out this 'come and get me and mine' message, and then starts getting chummy with the wife of one of his best friends? Oh, and she's a police detective, too. Anyone notice that not-too-fresh smell? Could that possibly be the stench of a setup?"
"Do you have any idea at all how much damage this dirtwad could do to you in the amount of time it would take the fastest SEAL team in the world to get from a van on the street to your third-floor apartment?" Luke asked hotly. "Do you know that this son of a bitch broke Mary Beth Hollis's cheekbone with his first punch? Do you really want to find out what that feels like? My God, Sydney! Think about that, will you please?"
"So maybe the setup should be at your house," she countered. "We can make like I move in with you, and set up a pattern where you come home extremely late—where there's a repeated block of time when I'm there alone. The team can hide in your backyard. Shoot, they can hide in your basement."
"No, they can't. I don't have a basement."
She nearly growled at him in exasperation. "Luke, think about this! If we can guarantee that the team will be close, then, yes, yes, I'm willing, to do this to catch this guy. I really, really want to catch this guy. As far as I can see, the only real objection is that you and I will have to spend more time together, that we'll have to put on a show of a relationship in public. But, shoot, I can stomach that for the greater good of mankind, if you can."
Luke laughed in disbelief. If she didn't know better,
she'd think his feelings were hurt. "Well, gee, that's big of you."
Syd stood there, staring at him, both wanting him to give in, and praying that he'd refuse. God, how on earth was she going to play boyfriend-girlfriend with this impossible, incredible man for any length of time? How was she going to share a house with him? If she were a gambler, she'd bet big money that she'd end up in his bed within a day or two. No, make that an hour or two. It was a sure thing— except for one little important detail. He didn't want her in his bed.
"I think this could really work," Bobby said, his calm voice breaking the charged silence.
"I do, too," Mike said, speaking up for the first time. "I think we should do it."
Luke said something completely, foully unrepeatable— something having to do with barnyard animals, something that implied that he was out of his mind, then stomped out of the room.
Bobby smiled at Syd's confused expression. "That was a green light," he interpreted. "A go-ahead. Why don't you use those media contacts you have and set up whatever kind of interview for the lieutenant that you can? TV's best, of course. Oh, and Syd—let's keep this to ourselves. The fewer people who know this relationship between you and Luke isn't real, the better."
Syd rolled her eyes. "Anyone who knows him will take one look at me and realize something's up."
"Anyone who knows him," Bobby said, "will take one look at you, and think he's finally found someone worthy of his time."
Lucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous because of a woman.
He had to park his truck three houses down from the Catalanottos'. Veronica's "little" cookout had turned into
a full-blown party, judging from all the cars and trucks parked on the street. Bobby's truck and Wes's bike were there. PJ Becker's lime-green Volkswagen bug. Frisco's Jeep. Lucy McCoy's unassuming little subcompact.
"We'll just stop in so I can talk Veronica into leaving
town for a week or so," he told Syd as they walked down the driveway toward the little house. "We can use this party as a dress rehearsal for when we go into town later. If we can fool this group of people into thinking we're together, we can fool anyone."
Syd looked over at him, one perfect eyebrow slightly raised. "Do you really think we can fool them? We don't look like we're together."
She was right. In fact, they looked about as un-together as a man and woman could. "What do you think I...? Should I put my arm around your shoulders?"
Yeesh, he hadn't sounded this stupidly uncertain since that eighth-grade dance he'd been invited to as a sixth-grader.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Would you put your arm around my shoulders if we really were together?"
"I'd..." He put his arm around her waist, tucking her body perfectly alongside his. He didn't mean for it to happen, but his hand slipped up beneath the edge of her T-shirt and his fingers encountered satiny smooth skin.
Uh-oh.
He braced himself, waiting for her to hit him, or at least to pull away and assault him with a severe scolding. But she didn't. In fact, she slipped her arm around him, tucking her own hand neatly into the back pocket of his shorts, nearly sending him into outer space.
Lucky had to clear his throat before he could speak. "You think this is okay?" With his hand where it was against her bare skin, it was far more intimate and possessive than an arm thrown around her shoulders.
Syd cleared her throat, too. Hah, she wasn't as matter-of-fact as she was pretending to be.
"God, this is weird." She lifted her head to look up at him. "This is weird, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Are you as nervous about this as I am?"
"Yes," Lucky said, glad to be able to admit it.
"If you have to kiss me," Syd told him, "try not to kiss me on the mouth, okay?"
Have to?
"Oh," he said, "well, sure. I mean, that's good. You tell me what you don't want me to do and I'll make sure I don't cross those boundaries—"
"No!" She sounded completely flustered. "It's not about boundaries. It's just...I had about a ton of garlic on my pizza for lunch yesterday, and I still have Dominic's Italian Cafe-breath. I just...I didn't want to gross you out."
Lucky laughed—it was such a lame excuse. "There's no way you could still have garlic-breath more than twenty-four hours later."
"You've obviously never had one of Dominic's deluxe garlic pizzas."
"Look, Syd." He stopped about ten feet from the Catalanottos' front steps, pulling her to face him. "It's okay. You don't need to make up reasons why I shouldn't kiss you."
"I'm not making up reasons," she insisted.
"So then, if I don't mind about the alleged garlic-breath, you don't mind if I kiss you?"
The early evening shadows played artfully across Syd's face as she laughed. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."
And standing there, looking down at her, with his arm still around her waist, Lucky wanted to kiss her about as badly as he'd ever wanted to kiss anyone.
And damn it, as long as they were playing this pretend
girlfriend game, he might as well take advantage of the fact that it would only help their cover if he did kiss her.
But how the hell did one go about kissing a friend? He knew all there was to know about how to kiss a stranger, but this was different. This was far more dangerous.
And suddenly he knew exactly what to do, what to say.
"You've got me dying to find out if you really do taste like garlic," he said.
"Oh, believe me, I do."
"Do you mind...?" He tipped her chin up to his. "For the sake of scientific experimentation...?"
She laughed. That was when he knew he had her. That was when he knew he could kiss her without having her get all ticked off at him. She might pull away really fast, but she wasn't going to hit him.
So he lowered his head those extra inches and covered her mouth with his.
And, oh, my. Just like when he'd kissed her on that deck just off his kitchen, she turned to fire in his arms. Just like when he'd kissed her on his deck, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, kissing him just as hungrily as he kissed her.
It was the kind of kiss that screamed of pure sex, the kind that lit him up pretty damn instantly, the kind that made him want to tear her clothes from her body so he could take her, right here and right now—on his captain's front lawn.
It was the kind of kiss that made him instantly aware that it had been forty-nine long days, seventeen agonizing hours and twelve very impatient minutes since he'd last had sex. It was the kind of kiss that made him instantly forget whomever it was he'd last had sex with. Hell, it made him forget every other woman he'd ever known in his entire women-filled life.
It was the kind of kiss he might normally have ended only to spend the rest of the evening actively plotting ways
he could get away with kissing this woman again. But— ha! He laughed as well as he could, considering he was still kissing her. They were playing the pretend girlfriend game. He could kiss her whenever he wanted!
Oh, my, she tasted hot and sweet and delicious. And yes, he thought just maybe he could taste the slightest, subtlest spicy hint of garlic, too.
Syd pulled back, and he let her come up for air, ready to protest that he thought he needed to kiss her again just to make sure he wasn't imagining the garlic, ready to give her a mile-long list of reasons why he should probably kiss her again, ready to...
He realized belatedly that the light had gone on next to the Catalanottos' front door. He turned his head, and sure enough. Veronica was standing there, laughing at him.
“You," she said. "Figures it would be you."
Lucky saw that they'd drawn a crowd. PJ Becker was behind Veronica. And Mia Francisco peeked through the front window, Frisco right behind her. Frisco gave him a smile and a thumbs-up.
Syd jettisoned herself from his arms, but he caught her hand and reeled her back in.
"It's okay," he murmured to her. "I knew someone would be bound to notice us. We're together, remember? You're my new girlfriend—I'm allowed to kiss you."
"Sorry," Veronica called through the screen in her crisp British accent. "Frankie came out onto the back deck, insisting that a man and a lady were making a baby in the front yard, and we just had to see for ourselves."
"Oh, my God," Syd said, her face turning bright pink.
"I obviously need to discuss the details of conception with him again," she said, laughter in her voice. "I'd thought we'd been over that 'kissing doesn't make a baby' stuff, but apparently it didn't stick. I suppose it's all right— he's only four."
"Do you want to come in?" PJ called out, "or should
we just all go away? Give you some privacy—close the door and turn off the light?"
Lucky laughed as he pulled Syd to the door.
The introductions took no time, and then Veronica was pulling Syd through the house to the back deck. "You've got to see the view we've got of the ocean," she said, as if she'd known Syd for years, "and I've got to check the chicken that's on the grill."
"Bobby already checked the chicken," about four voices called out.
"Everyone here is convinced I can't cook," Veronica told Syd as she opened the slider. She made a face. "Unfortunately they're right."
"Hey, Syd," Bobby said serenely from his place at the grill.
He was wearing only a bathing suit, and with all his muscles gleaming, his long hair tied back in a braid, he looked as if he belonged on the cover of one of those historical romances. Syd did a major double take, and Lucky poked her in the side, leaning close to whisper, "Don't stare—you're with me, remember?"
"You know Lucy McCoy," Veronica said to Syd. "And Tasha Francisco, and Wes Skelly—"
"Actually, we've never met," Wes said. He didn't stand up from where he was sprawled in a lounge chair. "See, I'm not allowed to help with this op," he told Veronica, his vo
ice tinged with sarcasm and coated with perhaps just a little too much beer. "I'm not a member of the team because I'm a potential suspect, right, Lieutenant?"
Lucky kept his voice cheerful. "Come on, Skelly, you know I didn't have anything to do with picking my team. Admiral Stonehead did it for me."
"Hi, everyone. Sorry, I'm late—I was held up at the office, and then it was such a nice evening I couldn't resist walking over."
Lucky turned to see Lana Quinn climbing the stairs that led from the beach.
Bobby greeted her with a hug. "Where's Wizard, the mighty Quinn? I thought he was coming home today."
She made a face. “Team Six has been sidetracked. What else is new? He's going to be away at least another few weeks. I know, I know—I should feel lucky he even got a chance to call."
Wes lurched to his feet, knocking over the little plastic table next to him, spilling pretzels across the deck. He swore sharply. "I'm sorry," he said. "Ron, I'm sorry, I forgot I... I have to go...do something. I'm sorry."
He vanished into the house, nearly knocking Syd over on his way. Lucky turned to Bobby, making the motion of keys turning in the ignition, silently asking if Wes was okay to drive.
Bobby shook his head no, then pulled his hand out of his bathing-suit pocket, opening it briefly—just long enough so that Lucky could see he'd already claimed possession of his friend's keys. Bobby made a walking motion with his fingers. Wes would walk back to the base.
On the other side of the deck, Syd helped Lana Quinn clean up the spilled pretzels.
Suzanne Brockmann - Team Ten 09 - Get Lucky Page 12
