by Liz Johnson
“Targeting how?”
“He took a few shots at her.”
“I heard you got hit.”
Was there anything this woman hadn’t heard? Except the truth about why Jordan canceled their date, of course.
“And a bomb at our house.”
She hummed low in her throat. “A bomb? That’s pretty out of character for Cole. He’s a traditionalist. Guns and drive-bys.”
So he wasn’t afraid to get violent, but he liked to keep his distance. And maybe he wasn’t too worried about precision. Hence Zach’s shoulder. But that didn’t mesh with yesterday’s setup. “Any chance he’s working with someone who’s into bombs?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been on my list in a while. But let me ask around. Someone else may be keeping tabs on him, especially if he has a hit out on a civilian.” She paused for a long second. “Listen, I’m sorry this is happening to you guys. You don’t deserve this.”
“And I’m sorry about…” He bit his tongue, wishing he hadn’t gone down that particular path. But it was too late now. “Well, about that thing with Jordan.”
“Sure.” He could hear the stiffness in her voice. Despite the benign word, her tone had zero give. “I’ll call you if I hear anything about Cole.”
“Appreciate it.”
He ended the call and stared at his phone before scrubbing his hand across his face. Amy was barely an ally thanks to Jordan’s less-than-smooth moves, but she would help out if she could. He was sure of it. She was a good woman, a good agent. And he’d heard the sympathy in her voice.
But so far she’d managed to confirm only one thing. They were dealing with a very dangerous man.
And right that minute, they were no closer to finding Cole than they had been an hour before.
“Guess we’re going to the party,” he mumbled to himself.
EIGHT
Zach tugged on his suit coat and adjusted his tie for the hundredth time since he’d put it on fifteen minutes before. Flexing his shoulders, he tried to stretch the fabric of the too-small suit. It did no good.
He’d give all the money in his wallet—all twelve dollars—to be in even his stiffest battle dress uniform. Camo pants and a crusty T-shirt sounded a million times better than the starched cotton of his white shirt, which pulled taut across his chest and gut.
Smoothing a hand down the fabric, he tried to remember the last time he’d worn this suit. Luke’s wedding. More than a year ago.
Because he hated dressing up. Dress uniform. Suit and tie. It didn’t matter. He’d rather get wet and sandy than get gussied up.
“Come on, Kristi,” he hollered up the stairs. “You about ready?” There was no reason for the rush. Luke and Mandy hadn’t even arrived to watch Cody yet. But the sooner they left, the sooner he could take off the stupid noose around his neck.
Get in. Get the file. Get out.
It was an easy op.
But his stomach was in a knot, and his heart thudded like he’d run a mile in the sand.
“I’ll be right there.”
Cody appeared at the top of the stairs, dropping toys as he dragged his blanket across each step. “She looks really pretty. Her dress is red.”
His heart gave a little kick, like he was nervous.
No. That was ridiculous. This wasn’t a first date. It wasn’t any kind of date.
This wasn’t the fulfillment of his high school dreams or any other dreams.
It was a mission. Pure and simple.
His head accepted the words. His heart took another lurch.
Perfect. He needed a distraction.
“You need anything, little man?”
Cody shook his head and plopped onto the couch. “First Gear is on.”
Of course. If the show was on, the kid was watching it. And the show was always on. “You hungry?”
“Nope. Still full from dinner.”
Dinner. Right. Kristi had cooked a Southern chicken-salad thing. It was pretty tasty, for being 95 percent green. He swung into the kitchen and found just the diversion he needed. Both sides of the sink were filled to the brim with dirty bowls, used plates and some sort of lettuce spinner that he didn’t recall owning before his last deployment.
And per usual, Kristi had cooked. And forgotten to clean up.
He was starting to suspect that the perpetual dirty dishes were less about forgetting and more about not wanting to tackle them.
Still, he’d rather think about the chore than Kristi’s red dress. Or playing the role of her doting husband in front of her coworkers. Or ending up under the mistletoe.
Pressing flat palms against the counter on each side of the sink, he hung his head and inhaled through his nose.
Stop it. Stop thinking about that, McCloud.
She was his wife.
But she wasn’t his.
She is not yours!
He could say it over and over. It was true. His heart just hadn’t caught up.
He’d vowed to honor and protect her, and he’d do whatever it took. Including denying the feelings he’d held on to for far too long.
Even though she was finally free, he wouldn’t ever be the man she wanted.
He hadn’t told her when they were young. He’d never confessed to his feelings because even then he’d seen her and Aaron shared something special. But she had to know—in the deepest parts of her heart—that she needed only to wave her hand to call him to her side.
And no matter how hard he pushed those feelings down, they popped up at the most inopportune moments. Like this one.
He had to remember that he was not the type of man she needed. She needed someone like Aaron. Someone gentler and softer. Someone with a kind voice and easygoing style.
The teams had made him into a lot of things. Gentler wasn’t one of them.
He loved what he did. And he was good at it. He wanted to continue doing it for as long as he was physically able.
Which meant he wasn’t good for her.
“I’m ready.” Her words were so quiet he almost missed them. But when he looked up, he couldn’t miss her.
She’d tamed her curls into a halo that glowed under the kitchen lights. Eyes shimmering, she offered him a smile as red as her dress that hugged her torso from her almost-bare shoulders until it reached her waist, where it flared. Some sort of netting poked out at her knees, and it seemed to keep her skirt dancing as she moved.
Cody slipped up behind his mom and put his arms around her. “Told you she looked pretty.”
Plastering a stupid grin in place, he nodded. It was a lie. No one could call such a stunning creature merely pretty. But there were no words to describe the way her simple presence made his head spin.
He’d have stood there, silently gawking, all night if three solid raps on the door hadn’t shaken him from his stupor. He rushed past her and greeted Luke and Mandy, quickly drawing them into the house and forcing himself to focus on anything but the porcelain sheen of Kristi’s skin.
“Kristi, this is Mandy.”
The brunette reached out her hand with a broad smile. “Good to meet you.”
“And this is Luke.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind watching Cody?” Kristi held out her hand, and Cody shuffled into the entryway, rubbing at the oxygen tube running across his cheek.
Luke squatted down, eye level with Cody, and pointed to the tank on his back. “Pretty cool setup you got there.”
Cody lifted his eyebrows, surprise lighting his little features. “It’s oxygen. It’s supposed to help me stay awake. But I still fall asleep a lot.”
“I like to sleep, too.” Luke looked toward the television. “What are you watching?”
“First Gear.”
Holding up a tight fist, Luke waited for the little guy to bump knuckles. “Love that show.”
“Want to watch?” Cody led the way, and Luke followed, while Mandy waited, seeming to know that there would be more instructions.
“I just checke
d his oxygen pack and cannulas, so he could be fine all night, but if there’s any trouble, there’s a tank in the front closet.” Kristi gestured toward the door behind Mandy. “We shouldn’t be more than two hours, and I left my number on the fridge. I know you have Zach’s number, but just in case.”
Mandy’s smile grew wider. “Of course.”
It took another ten minutes to run through Cody’s bedtime routine, the emergency contact information and the acceptable snack choices—just in case he felt like eating.
When there was no possible excuse for them to linger, Mandy gently brushed them out the door. “Have a good time. Everything will be fine. We’ll see you later.”
“You’ll call if anything happens?”
“Of course.”
Kristi didn’t look convinced. Oddly enough, Zach didn’t feel particularly certain either. His stomach gave a strange roll as they hurried to the car. He immediately scanned the street for a car or person out of place. There wasn’t even a dog walker out in the fresh darkness, only the whisper of a breeze through the rosebushes.
With a shiver, Kristi pulled her sheer wrap over her arms, tucking her clutch purse beneath her chin. “It’s going to be okay. Right?”
“Yes.” He forced himself to sound confident. “We’ll get in, get what we need and get out. We can do it in forty-five minutes tops.”
*
Forty-five minutes later Kristi was on her second glass of punch and still stuck in a conversation with her boss’s wife. She hadn’t gotten closer than a hundred feet from the file room. And despite surveying the partygoers for anyone watching her too closely, she’d identified exactly nothing out of the ordinary.
Across the room, she caught Zach’s eye and gave him a half smile. He lifted his punch cup as Walt clapped him on the back, clearly in the middle of a story that he found hilarious. Zach gave a quick nod toward the door.
She looked where he’d directed, past half a dozen clusters of men in suits and women in party dresses. The long table and chairs had been removed from the office conference room and replaced by a handful of tall-top tables, each decorated with a sprig of holly and red berries. The lights had been dimmed, and the room buzzed with music and conversation. And everyone was distracted.
With a quick nod, Kristi confirmed that she’d meet him on the other side of the door.
“I’m going to duck into…” She hoped Veronica, Walt’s wife, would connect the dots but not before Kristi could make her escape. She didn’t need company to the ladies’ room. She slid around the circumference of the room, dodging Quentin, who danced to the low music and smelled like his cup had something stronger than punch in it. He tried to invite her into his party-for-one, but she held up her hands and waved him off.
When she finally reached the only exit, she put her hand on the doorknob at the same moment that another hand clamped over hers. Heat raced up her arm as she swung around to zero in on Zach, who didn’t say a word as he twisted her hand to open the door and slipped them into the hallway. Somehow they were halfway to the file room before she realized he hadn’t let go of her hand.
The hall’s darkness wrapped eerily around them. A door closed loudly, and she whipped around to make sure that no one had followed them.
The corridor was empty.
Letting out a slow breath, she tried to calm herself down. No one at the party wanted to harm her. Maybe.
Unless there was someone on Cole’s payroll.
And if so, there was no telling who that might be.
Zach soothed her with a quick squeeze of her fingers as they came to the door of the file room. Kristi led the way in but couldn’t risk turning on a light. He was prepared. After the door clicked closed behind them, he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it across the rows of dark gray filing cabinets.
“Our office manager is meticulous, so a file on Cole would be in with this year’s other files.” She pointed to a large white label on the cabinet. “Let’s start here.”
Zach nodded, holding up the light as she tugged on the drawer. It rattled but didn’t budge.
Her stomach sank to the floor. Of course. Ginger wouldn’t leave the confidential files unlocked. Especially not on a night when the office was full of guests.
Kristi squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I should have thought. I don’t have a key.”
“Mind if I give it a try?”
She turned her gaze on him and spoke in a low, even tone. “It’s locked.”
He shrugged, stretching the fabric of his suit coat. The one that looked terribly out of place—and terribly good—on him. Again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tool of his trade. His hands dwarfed the little knife, but he manipulated it with unmistakable ease.
With a quick flick of his wrist, she heard a small pop, the lock releasing. Zach slid the drawer open, motioning for her to dig in.
Where had he learned that? Was it just ingrained in SEALs? Or men in general?
She shook her head, trying not to think about how often he came to her rescue. It was dangerous how much she was coming to rely on it.
She returned her focus to the drawer. The files were lined up in neat rows, all alphabetical and perfectly ordered, and she skimmed through the A and B sections before narrowing in on the C names. “Cartridge. Center. Cobb. Cunningham.” Her fingers stopped their dance over the manila files as the beam of light jerked to indicate Zach had heard it, too. “Where’s Cole?”
“Maybe it’s under Jackson?”
No. But she looked anyway, swinging the top drawer closed and opening the second one.
The file wasn’t there either.
She met his gaze, even as the corners of her eyes began to burn. Blinking rapidly, she wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed tight. She hated the thought that popped to mind but couldn’t stop from voicing it. “This proves that someone in the office is covering for Cole.”
“Or that the file was misplaced.”
She shook her head. “Ginger would never. She’s too careful.”
His wide palm rubbed the top of his head as he squinted, clearly lost in thought.
“Maybe a file wasn’t made on him. You said he was never a client.” Zach’s voice rose a fraction as he laid out his theory. “Maybe Ginger never got around to making him a file. Or maybe he never gave her enough information to start one. I’m guessing that drug dealers aren’t eager to pass out a lot of personal information. What’s the point of a file with no information in it?”
“That’s possible. I guess.” Except what if he was wrong?
Suddenly the black silhouette of a man appeared on the blinds covering the window into the hallway. Her heart jumped to her throat, and she froze.
Zach didn’t. In one move he turned off his flashlight, pocketed it and twirled her into his arms. Sheltered from view by the corner of the cabinet, he whispered into her ear, “Stay quiet.”
Like she needed to be told. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried.
His arm snaked around her waist, and she pressed her hands against his chest, burying her face between them. Please, God. Get us out of here safely. Please.
Of late her prayers had been little more than pleas for rescue, but as she snuggled deeper into Zach’s embrace, she wondered if he wasn’t the answer to many of them. Had God known that Zach was who she needed even back in Montana?
Undoubtedly so. And she sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the man who held her so securely.
Another set of footsteps joined the first in the hall, and then Kristi heard a loud giggle. Followed by a loud shushing and more laughter. Probably two coworkers who had had some spiked punch and were enjoying the casual atmosphere a little too much.
Zach let out a deep sigh. “They’re not looking for us. But as soon as they leave, we should get back before we’re missed.”
“Right.” Because she couldn’t stay in his arms all evening. Even if she’d acted on worse ideas before.
Forcing h
erself to take a step away from his warmth, she paused when he reached for her face. His fingers stopped, pulled back, then stretched out again to tuck one of her unruly curls behind her ear. Heat singed through her, and she quickly covered her cheeks, lest her blush—even in the dark—give away her reaction to his innocent touch.
The couple in the hall moved on, and a door slammed somewhere deeper in the office.
“Let’s go.” Grabbing for her hand, he led the way to the door and stopped just long enough to peek into the darkness beyond. Satisfied, he kept moving, tugging her in his wake.
She tiptoed behind him toward the party, but just as he reached for the door, it swung open. Even the muted party lights seemed like a follow spot directly on them.
Veronica laughed and clapped from her spot just inside the room, drawing way too much attention. “I wondered where you two had gone. Now I see.” Her obvious wink made Kristi’s cheeks burn all over again, as every face turned a little knowing.
She hadn’t stolen away for a rendezvous with her husband. She hadn’t even kissed her husband, save for the chaste kiss on her cheek at their wedding and when he returned from his deployment.
But they didn’t know that.
Zach, always so cool under pressure, joined with a chuckle and pulled her into his side in the door frame. “I sure missed her while I was gone.”
That brought more laughs until someone pointed and hollered, “Look! You’re under the mistletoe.”
No. No. No. Her very modern coworkers wouldn’t enforce such a ridiculous tradition. Would they?
“Go on, then. Kiss her like you missed her.”
That sounded an awful lot like Ginger, but she didn’t have time to see who had egged them on. In a single movement, Zach snagged her hand and spun her to him. She barely had time to catch herself against his chest and to register the heavy thudding of his heart beneath her palm.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
His hazel eyes softened until they were almost green, but the smile there never quite reached his lips. Which she suddenly couldn’t tear her gaze from. The curve of his bottom lip trembled. Or maybe that was her shaking as his hand cupped her elbow, his fingers warm and reassuring.
“Are you ready?”
