Suzanne Brockmann - Team Ten 09 - Get Lucky

by Suzanne Brockmann -

  "So. Does the new GF know you're a jerk?"

  Lucky turned to see PJ Becker grinning at him, but he knew her words were only half in jest. Which, of course, made them half-serious, as well. This woman still hadn't forgotten the way he'd hit on her back when they'd first met. She'd forgiven, sure, but she'd probably never forget. It was one of the things he liked best about her. She'd never, ever let him get away with anything.

  "Yeah," he said. "She knows. She likes me anyway." It wasn't entirely a lie. Syd did like him. Just not in the way PJ meant.

  Senior Chief Harvard Becker's wife gazed at Syd with her gorgeous, liquid-brown eyes—eyes that never missed

  anything. "You know, O'Donlon, if you're smart enough to have hooked up with someone like Syd Jameson, maybe I seriously underestimated you. She's a good writer—she had a weekly column in the local paper about a year ago, you know. I tried never to miss it. There's a good brain— a thinking brain—in that girl's head." She gave him another brilliant smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Who knows? Maybe you're not such a jerk after all."

  As Lucky laughed, PJ went to give her best evil eye to the extremely pregnant Mia, who looked as if she were thinking about helping pick up pretzels.

  Lucky sidled up to Bobby. "What's up with Wes?"

  Bobby shrugged. "It hasn't been his year."

  "Is he gonna be okay?"

  "The walk will do him good. I'll throw his Harley into the back of my truck."

  "Anything I can do to help?" Lucky asked.

  "Nope."

  "Let me know if that changes."

  "Yep."

  Lucky grabbed Veronica's arm as she went past carrying a broom. "Got a sec?"

  She looked down at the broom. "Well..."

  He took it from her and tossed it gracefully to PJ, who caught it with one hand. Show off.

  "Yes, I suppose I do have a sec now," Veronica said cheerfully. "What's up?"

  "I need you to go to New York," he said.

  "How's a : a.m. flight tomorrow sound?"

  He kissed her, relief flooding through him. "Thank you."

  "Lucy was pretty persuasive. This monster you're trying to catch sounds awful. However, I've noticed that neither she nor PJ are planning to come with me."

  "Lucy's SFPD and PJ's FInCOM."

  "And you're convinced they can take care of them-

  selves?" She searched his eyes, her concern written plainly on her face.

  He tried to make it a joke. "Can you imagine the fallout if I even so much as implied PJ couldn't handle this on her own? And as for Lucy..." he glanced across the deck to where the detective was leaning against the railing, talking to Lana Quinn and Syd "...I'm going to strongly encourage her to bunk down at the police station until this is over."

  Veronica followed his gaze. "You make sure Syd is careful, too."

  "Oh, yeah," Lucky said. "Don't worry about that. She's, uh...she's moving in with me."

  It was the weirdest thing. It was all part of the pretend girlfriend game, designed to catch the rapist, but as he said the words aloud—words he'd never before uttered, not ever in his entire life—it felt remarkably real. He felt a little embarrassed, a little proud, a little terrified, and a whole hell of a lot of anticipation.

  Syd was moving in with him. She was going to go home with him tonight. It was true that she was going to sleep in the guest bedroom, but for the first time in God knows how long he wouldn't have to worry about her safety. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get some sleep tonight.

  On the other hand, maybe not, considering she was going to be in the next room, and considering he was still half-aroused from that incredible kiss.

  Veronica's eyes widened, and then filled with tears. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Oh, Luke, I'm so happy for you!" She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. "I was so certain you were just going to bounce from Heather to Heather for the rest of your life." She raised her voice. "Everyone, Lucky's finally living up to his nickname! He just told me Syd's moving in with him!"

  There was a scramble for cans of beer—soda for Frisco and Mia and Tash—as Veronica made a toast. Lucky didn't

  dare look at Syd directly—he could feel her embarrassment from all the way across the room. And he could feel Frisco's eyes on him, too. His swim buddy and temporary CO was smiling, but there were questions in his eyes. Like, wow, didn't this happen incredibly fast? And, why didn't you mention this to me before now?

  Tomorrow he'd sit down with Frisco and fill him in on the details—tell him the truth.

  But right now...

  He had to get Syd out of there before she died of embarrassment.

  He put down the beer someone had thrust into his hand and rescued her from PJ, Mia, Lana and Veronica. "I hate to drop a bomb and run," he said.

  "Speech!" someone said. It was Bobby, the bastard. He knew it was just a setup and he was probably having a good laugh behind that inscrutable calm.

  "Speech," PJ echoed. "This is too good. No way are we going to let you get away without telling us at least some of the juicy details. Where'd you guys meet? How long have you been seeing each other?" She approached Lucky and gazed hard into his eyes from about four inches away. "Who are you really, and what have you done with our commitment-shy friend Lucky?"

  "Very funny," Lucky said, tugging Syd past PJ and over to the door.

  "Oh, come on," PJ said. "At least tell us how she managed to talk you into sharing a house. I mean, that's a major step. A grown-up decision." She smiled at Syd. "I'm proud of you. Good job! Way to make him follow your rules."

  "Actually, I was the one who talked her into moving in with me," Lucky lied. "I'm finally in love." He shrugged. "What can I say?"

  "Who knows?" Syd asked as they got into his truck. "That this is just an act? Only Bobby. And Lucy Mc-

  Coy," Luke admitted. "I had to tell Lucy, especially considering she's supposed to be informed of my team's every move. She called this afternoon, mad as hell about that TV interview. She was ready to wring my neck." He started the engine, switched on the headlights and pulled out into the street, turning around in a neighbor's driveway. "Officially, she's pissed, but unofficially, she hopes this works. She knows we'll keep you as safe—safer—than the police would."

  He glanced at her in the dimness of the cab. "I'm going to tell Frisco tomorrow, but I'm going to ask him not to tell Mia. I think Bobby's right. The fewer people who know, the better."

  Syd sat as far away from him as she possibly could on the bench seat, trying desperately not to think about the way he'd kissed her. About the way she'd kissed him. At the words he'd said so casually as they left the party: I'm finally in love....

  Yeah, like that would ever happen. Syd had figured Luke O'Donlon out. He wasn't ever going to fall in love. At least not all the way. He thought he was safe as long as he kept himself surrounded by the beautiful, intelligent, exceptional and already married wives of his best friends. He could cruise through life, half in love with Lucy and Veronica and PJ and Mia, never having to worry about getting in too deep. He could have meaningless sexual relationships with self-absorbed, vacuous young women like Heather—again, without risking his heart.

  But what if he was wrong? Not about Heather—Syd didn't think for one instant that Luke would ever lose his heart to her. But Lucy McCoy was an entirely different story. As was that outrageously beautiful African American woman she'd met just tonight—PJ Becker. It would be too tragic if Luke actually fell in love with a woman he couldn't have.

  "So how long have you had a thing for PJ Becker?" she asked him.

  He managed to pull off a completely astonished look. "What?"

  "Don't play dumb," she told him. "And don't worry, I don't think everyone knows. It's just I've learned to read you pretty well, and you reacted differently to her than you did to Veronica or Lana."

  He was embarrassed and rather vehement. "I don't have a thing for her."

  "But you did," she guessed.

  He gave it t
o her, but grudgingly. "Well, yeah, like a million years ago, before she even hooked up with the senior chief."

  "And let me guess, a million years ago, you did something really dumb, like, oh, say, you hit on her?"

  He was silent, and she just waited. He finally glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, and then couldn't keep his lips from curling up into a rueful smile. "Don't you hate being right all the time?"

  "It's not that I'm right all the time," she countered, "it's that you're so predictable. Why don't you surprise everyone next time you meet an attractive woman—and not hit on her first thing?"

  "What," Luke said, "you mean, if this moving-in-together thing doesn't work out and I don't end up married to you?"

  She had to laugh. As if.

  "Sorry about Veronica's announcement," he continued. "I honestly had no idea she was going to do that."

  Syd shrugged. "It's okay. It was a little strange—all your friends looking at me sideways, wondering what type of alien mind control I was using to make you want to live with me."

  "That's not what they were thinking," Luke scoffed.

  Yes, it most certainly was. Syd kept her mouth closed.

  "After seeing that kiss," he said with a laugh, they think they know why I want to live with you."

  That kiss.

  For many, many pounding heartbeats, Syd had stood on the front walk of that cute little beach house with her arms wrapped around Luke O'Donlon, her lips locked on his. For many pounding heartbeats, she had dared to imagine that that kiss was real, that it had nothing to do with their game of pretend.

  She'd thought she'd seen something warm, something special, deep in his eyes, right before he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Okay, face it, she'd thought she'd seen his awareness of his genuine attraction, based on genuine liking and genuine respect.

  She'd seen awareness, all right—awareness of the fact that they were being watched through the window. He'd known they were being watched. That was why he'd kissed her.

  They drove in silence for several long minutes. And then he glanced at her again.

  "Maybe you should scoot over here—sit closer to me. If this guy does start following us..."

  Syd gave him a look. "Scoot?" she said, trying desperately to keep things light. If she moved next to him, and if he put his arm around her shoulders, she just might forget how to breathe. Unless she could somehow keep him laughing. "I'm sorry, but I never, ever scoot anywhere."

  Luke laughed. Jackpot. "That's what I love most about you, Sydney, dear. You can pick a fight about anything."

  "Can not."

  He laughed again and patted the seat next to him. “Come on. Move your skinny butt down here."

  "Skinny?" she said, sidling a little bit closer, but nowhere near close enough to touch him. "Excuse me. Have you even looked at my butt? It's double wide."

  "What, are you nuts?" He reached for her, pulling her so that she was sitting with her thigh pressed firmly against his, his arm draped across her shoulders. "You have a great butt. A classic butt."

  “Thanks a million. You know, these days classic means old. Classic Coke, Classic Trek. Old"

  "It doesn't mean old, it means incomparable" he countered. "How old are you, anyway?"

  "Old enough to know better than to sit this close to someone who's driving. Old enough to know I should have my seat belt on," she grumbled. "Older than you."

  "No way."

  "Yes way," she said, praying as he braked to a red light that he wouldn't look down at her. "I'm one year older than you."

  If he looked down at her, his mouth—that incredible, amazing mouth—would be mere inches from hers. And if his mouth was mere inches from hers, she would be able to think of nothing but kissing him again.

  She wanted to kiss him again.

  He turned and looked down at her.

  "Where are we going now?" she asked, not that she particularly cared. But she figured maybe if she used her mouth to talk, she wouldn't be tempted to use it for other things.

  Like kissing Luke O'Donlon.

  "There's a seafood shack down by the water here in San Felipe," he told her. "It's usually packed this time of night. I figured we'd go get some steamed clams. And maybe after that, we could do a little barhopping."

  "I've never been barhopping," she admitted, mostly to fill the pause in the conversation. "I always thought it sounded so exotic."

  "Actually, it can be pretty depressing," Luke told her as the light turned green and he focused on the road again, thank God. "I've been barhopping with the other single

  guys from Alpha Squad. Mostly Bobby and Wes. Although occasionally their buddy Quinn would come along. The Wizard. He's married—you know, to Lana—which never sat quite right with me, because our goal was to cruise the clubs, looking to pick up college girls. But I didn't really know him, didn't really know Lana—I figured it was none of my business."

  "God," Syd said. "Did she know?"

  Luke shook her head. "No. Quinn used to say that they had an arrangement. He wouldn't tell her and she wouldn't find out. Wes used to get so mad at him. One night he actually broke Quinn's nose."

  "Wes is Bobby's swim buddy, right?" Syd thought about the SEAL she'd met for the first time tonight. He was bigger than she'd imagined from the way Luke had described him. Something about him had been disturbingly familiar. When he'd slammed into her on his way out of the party...

  "Bob and Wes are the best example of a two-man team I've ever seen," Luke told her, the muscles in his thigh flexing as he braked to make a right turn into a crowded restaurant parking lot. "They're good operators separately, but together—it's like instead of getting two regular guys, you're getting two super men. They know each other so well, they play off of each other perfectly—they anticipate each other's every move. They're remarkably efficient."

  "Bobby knows Wes really well, then, I guess," Syd said.

  "Probably better than Wes knows himself."

  "And Bobby's certain Wes couldn't be—" She cut herself off, realizing how awful her words sounded. Just because he was broad-shouldered and wore his hair exactly like the man they were looking for....

  Luke parked his truck, then pushed her slightly away from him, turning to face her, to look penetratingly into her eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

  "It was weird," she admitted. "When he bumped into me... It was like deja vu."

  "Wes isn't our guy." Luke was adamant.

  She couldn't help herself. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?"

  "Yes. I know him."

  "There was something about him...." And then she knew. "Luke, he smelled like the guy on the stairs."

  "Smelled?"

  "Yeah, like stale cigarettes. Wes is a smoker, right?"

  "No. Last year Bobby made Wes quit. He used to be a smoker, but—"

  "Sorry, he's smoking again. Maybe not in front of anybody, but he's definitely smoking, even if it's only on the sly. It was faint, but I could smell it. He smelled just like the man we're looking for."

  Luke shook his head. "Wes isn't our guy," he said again. "No way. I can't—I won't accept that."

  "What if you're wrong?" she asked. "What if you find out that all this time he's been right here, right under our noses?"

  "I'm not wrong," Luke said tightly. "I know this man. You didn't see him at his best tonight, but I know him, all right?"

  It wasn't all right, but Syd wisely kept her mouth shut.

  Chapter

  “So here's the scenario," Syd said as Luke opened the door, letting her into the quiet coolness of his house. "You're the only man inside an enemy stronghold when a battle, what do you call it, a firefight starts. Your team is being pushed back. You're outnumbered and outgunned. Do you fight or flee?"

  He locked the door behind them, the sound of the dead-bolt clicking into place seeming to echo around them.

  They were here.

  Together.

  Alone.

  For the ni
ght.

  Syd's lips were still warm from the last time he'd kissed her—at a bar called Shaky Stan's. He'd kissed her at the Mousehole, too, and at Ginger's, and at the Shark's Run Grill as well. In fact, they'd kissed their way pretty much clear across San Felipe's waterfront district.

  Syd had tried to keep the kisses short. She'd tried des-

  perately to keep from melting in his arms. But far too often, she'd failed.

  If they were truly moving in together, after that series of temperature-raising kisses, there was no way in hell either of them would still have their clothes on within five seconds of Luke's locking that door.

  Aware of that fact, with her clothes firmly on, Syd kept talking, posing one of her military scenarios. She wasn't allowed to ask any of the SEALs specific questions about their operations, but she could pose hypothetical. And she did, as often as possible.

  "What's inside this hypothetical stronghold?" he asked, tossing his keys onto a small table near the front door. “Is this a rescue mission or an info-gathering op?"

  "Rescue mission," she decided. "Hostages. There are hostages inside. Hostaged children.''

  He gave her a comically disbelieving look as he moved to the thermostat and adjusted the setting so that the air conditioning switched on. That was good. It was too still in here, too warm. The AC would get the air moving, make it a little less stuffy. A little less...sultry.

  "Make it impossibly difficult, why don't you?" he said.

  He went into the kitchen, and she followed. "I'm just trying to provide a challenge."

  "Okay, great." He opened the refrigerator and scowled at the cluttered shelves. "If we've been sent in to rescue hostaged children, you better believe we've been given a direct order not to fail." He reached in behind a gallon of milk and pulled out a container that looked as if it held iced tea. "Want some?"

  Syd nodded, leaning against the door frame. "Thanks."