Special Ops Affair

by Jennifer Morey

  “We’ll hope for the best. We’ll hope she’s just scared and doesn’t want to ask for help.”

  A tiny smile of appreciation made its way to her grief-lined mouth. “You’re someone she can trust. I can tell.”

  He wanted her to trust him, but that didn’t mean he’d trust her. Dishonesty went against his grain. He couldn’t tolerate it, not after the way his marriage had ended. He’d turn Odie in without a second thought if she was doing something she shouldn’t.

  “You care about her.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  It caught him off guard.

  “I can tell,” she said again.

  What could she tell? He couldn’t deny he’d been interested in Odie the first time he’d met her, but she wasn’t interested in him. And she wasn’t being straight with him.

  “It won’t be good for anyone if I’m wrong.” And that was all he’d say on the matter.

  Her smile warmed. “I don’t think you are.”

  He sure hoped so. “Thank you, Mo.”

  “No, thank you. I was worried about Odie before but I’m not now.”

  Time to go. He wasn’t comfortable with her insight—romantic and maybe a little too accurate.

  Odie paid the taxi driver and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a Mexican chain restaurant. She paused to stare above the building’s roofline at the Marilyn Monroe painting on the side of the hair salon next door. Searching the street, she saw no sign of Jag, but she knew he wouldn’t be far behind. She almost smiled. Did he really think she was stupid enough not to find the transmitter he’d slipped into her work tote? She’d indulged him by leaving it there, and took her tote with her—which she wouldn’t have done otherwise. The bag was just one more thing to carry if she had to leave in a hurry.

  A white Lexus pulled into a parking space not far down the street, but the driver didn’t get out. Was he looking at her? She’d check to see if he was still there when she finished with Calan Friese. She needed all her wits for this one.

  The information Luis had given her more than explained why the police hadn’t eliminated him as a suspect. Not only were his whereabouts the night of Kate’s murder sketchy, he’d had a wife whose throat had been slit seven years ago. The killer had never been found. Kate’s throat had been slit. And like his wife’s murder, there was no evidence pointing to the killer.

  Odie thought of the initials on the package Kate had sent. Was Calan somehow connected?

  It made her wonder why he’d agreed to meet her. Was he so sure of his innocence or did he want to find out what she knew?

  She entered the restaurant. A quick look around confirmed Calan wasn’t there yet.

  Finding a table in the semi-crowded space, she hung her work tote over the back of the chair and sat facing the front entrance, listening to the noise of conversation bouncing off the high ceiling and corrugated aluminum siding. Just two or three minutes later she saw him walk along the sidewalk. He opened the door and entered, seeing her almost immediately. He didn’t smile. Not wearing sunglasses, she saw that his eyes were blue. He was an attractive man, not pretty or fair like some blond-haired, blue-eyed men. He was more rugged than that. But didn’t they all have that look? That special ops, he-man look that she’d grown to dislike so much. Except this man wasn’t a hero if he’d murdered his wife and then later on a girlfriend.

  “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you at the funeral,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her.

  “Did you want to?” she asked, nonchalant…and then…not.

  He sat, his eyes unwavering and not missing her taunt. “Kate told me about you.”

  “Really? What did she say?”

  “That you’re a ball-breaker and you work for a mountaineering company in Colorado.”

  “Accurate enough.” She wasn’t going to play down his perception. Kate had told him what she was supposed to tell everyone. Minus the ball-breaker part.

  “RC Mountaineering,” he said. “Run by none other than Cullen McQueen.”

  She supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to find that out.

  “What do you do for him?”

  Did he really think she’d tell him? “I’m the cashier.”

  That pulled a cynical laugh from him.

  “Where were you the night Kate was killed?” She didn’t waste time asking.

  “I went for a drive.” He sounded belligerent.

  “Is that the truth?”

  “It’s what I told the police.”

  Cocky bastard. “Did anyone see you? Can you prove it?”

  “No.”

  She searched his face and found nothing that showed his emotion. Of course, his background made these games easy for him, and the dangerous edge surrounding him fit the caricature of so many that Cullen employed. Regardless of her bias, Odie didn’t like to see those traits used for the wrong reason.

  “Did you kill her?” she asked.

  He leaned comfortably back in his chair, appearing to enjoy this. “What reason would I have to kill my girlfriend? Wouldn’t it be easier to just break up with her?”

  “I don’t know, would it?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Did you know what she was working on?”

  “I didn’t kill her,” he said. His eyes never changed, but his lack of response to her question made her wonder if he did know what Kate was working on.

  “What did she uncover?”

  “You think she uncovered something?”

  Odie sighed, getting impatient. “You know I do. And I know you know something, so why don’t we just cut the bull and come clean?”

  “Okay, you first.”

  Odie didn’t like his smart mouth. “Did you kill your wife seven years ago?”

  Now his eyes changed, a subtle flinch, but it was there. “That subject is off-limits.”

  Why? Because he was guilty or was he still upset about his loss? “Don’t you find it peculiar that both their throats were slit?”

  “I would think a woman like you would have already checked the police record.”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  He just met her gaze with cold indifference. He knew she’d checked the report, but he wasn’t going to budge.

  Fine. “Where were you going on your drive? You don’t really expect anyone to believe that, do you?”

  “Nowhere in particular,” he replied, ignoring the rest of what she’d said. But he sounded annoyed. And emotion had put it there. Emotion over his girlfriend’s death, and his wife’s before that. Interesting. Crime of passion or unresolved grief?

  “Why were you driving?”

  “I needed some time alone.”

  “Why?”

  Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, he said, “I had an argument with Kate.”

  Was he taunting her? She leaned on the table, too, imitating him. “About what?”

  “A woman like you has a lot of resources working for someone like McQueen,” he said.

  She found the comment a little strange. “You know him?”

  “Never met him. I’ve heard of him, though.”

  “What’s your point?”

  He smirked and rose to his feet. “Have a nice day.”

  Did her association with TES make him nervous? Well, it should.

  “Does the name Nigel Hersch mean anything to you?” she put out there for him.

  He stilled just as she’d expected and then faced her beside the table, the blue of his fearless eyes streaming out between thick lashes.

  When the silence stretched too long, she asked, “How much did Kate tell you about him?”

  “How much did she tell you?”

  She wasn’t going to tell him a thing if he wasn’t going to reciprocate. “What about Edward Ferguson? Ever heard of him?”

  He shrugged and shook his head, noncommittal.

  Odie had to force herself not to react. He knew. Why was he playing cat and mouse? Edward was her father. She would like
nothing more than to catch his killer. And now Kate’s. Whose side was Friese on? Hers or his own? And why had he agreed to meet her? Was it really only to fish for information? To find out what she knew? Maybe now he wasn’t worried. She didn’t know enough.

  “Did you love Kate?” she asked.

  Emotion ravaged his eyes for a second or two. Strong emotion. Pushing its way to the surface, past his soldier’s armor.

  “Good luck with your investigation,” he said, and walked toward the short line in front of the concession counter. He was going to get something to eat, as if their conversation hadn’t meant a thing. Only it had. It had been written all over his face.

  Did he love Kate or hate her enough to kill her like his wife? Odie debated on whether to wait and continue to talk to him or take his dismissal and go. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. The fact that he’d done his homework and had pieced together where she worked convinced her. Surely he knew what she was capable of with TES behind her. If he was innocent, he could trust her. But he didn’t. And that could only mean he was playing his own side, not hers or anyone else’s. Guilty. He had something to hide. Was it murder? Was it the contents of Kate’s package? Both?

  She stood and left the restaurant. Outside, she spotted Jag leaning against his rental car. Sunglasses on, light brown hair messy, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles. His biceps bulged in a short-sleeved dark green golf shirt and his lean thighs cupped his groin. Without even trying, the man did sexy like a Chinese fireworks explosion.

  She stopped in front of him, smiling and unable to subdue the spark of excitement over seeing him. She caught him looking her over, too, saw the way his head moved down a little and then back up. She was in a white cotton T-shirt and white-washed jeans with Gore-Tex leather hiking boots. Nothing sexy about it, but he made her feel like she was in a little black dress.

  “Get what you needed?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked, even though she already knew.

  “Lucky guess.” He pushed off the car, straightening his tall frame. “You know, you’re going to have to start trusting me.”

  Odie reached into her tote and pulled out the GPS device and handed it to him. He opened his palm for her to drop it there.

  She tipped her head back, putting her face close to his. “I do trust you.”

  A grin spread over his mouth, showing off straight, white teeth and putting creases around his eyes. He really had to stop with the sex appeal thing.

  “Every time I think I have you figured out, you do something like this,” he said.

  “Good.” She liked his straightforwardness and the way his ego wasn’t injured that she’d outsmarted him. Trying to cover her warming appreciation, she looked toward the spot where she’d seen the Lexus park. It was still there, driver behind the wheel. Not very good at surveillance.

  “Who is that?” Jag asked.

  “Don’t know, but he’s no professional.”

  “I noticed. Want to see if we can get him to play?” He opened the passenger door for her.

  Smiling back at him, she said, “Sure,” and got in.

  Chapter 4

  “Who’d you meet at the restaurant?” Jag asked as he drove. “The guy from the funeral?”

  “Yes,” Odie told him easily. She knew it wouldn’t take him long to get to this. “Calan Friese.”

  He seemed pleased that she’d told him. “What do you know about him?”

  She hadn’t shown him the file Luis had given her and he hadn’t pressed her to. That both impressed and worried her. He’d given her the space she needed, but he was also confident enough to either learn what he needed on his own or take his time prying it out of her.

  “An aimless ex-Delta, from what I can tell. Kept odd jobs on and off over the last few years. Ever since his wife was murdered. Throat was slit just like Kate’s.”

  “Any motive?”

  “Nothing that came up in the reports. For Kate, either.”

  She waited while he digested that.

  “Did you make any headway when you talked to him?” he finally asked.

  “No. He didn’t give an inch.”

  He glanced over at her, searching her face for a few seconds before turning toward the windshield again. He didn’t believe her.

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” she assured him. “He was good. He even knew about Cullen.”

  “Why’d he meet you?”

  “He was feeling me out.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  That made her laugh briefly. “Ha, ha. That’s funny.”

  He pulled into a parking space along U Street.

  Odie looked around. “Where are we?”

  “I’m hungry.” He looked in the rearview mirror. “Let’s see if our friend is, too.”

  She was hungry, too. She got out and walked beside him down the sidewalk, seeing the Lexus pass along the street. He wore a hat and a jean jacket with the collar up. Another car passed, blocking their view.

  “I can’t see the plate number,” Jag said.

  “Me, either.” The Lexus was too far away now.

  Two blocks later she spotted Jag’s intended destination, a narrow white-and-red building accentuated by a bold sign. Jag opened the door for her and she followed to the end of a moderate line of people. The 1950s décor looked original.

  “I’ve always wanted to try this place.” She took in the booths and red stools with shiny metal frames.

  “I come here every time I’m in town.” He kept looking out the front window for the Lexus.

  “He’ll be easy enough to spot when we leave,” she said.

  And Jag nodded. “That’s for sure.”

  She started reading the menu above the busy staff behind the long diner counter. The kitchen looked well used for the better part of a half century and the staff wore T-shirts and jeans with dirty aprons that said The Spicy Bowl.

  “Not much of a fancy eater, are you?” she said, liking that about him.

  “I can lift my pinky with the best of them, but I highly recommend the chili smother.”

  She read that menu item. “Yummy, but fattening.”

  “You’re concerned about fat?”

  “A girl has to watch her figure.” Was she flirting with him? It was so easy. She eyed him, bewildered that he could do that to her.

  “You don’t need to worry about counting calories.”

  “You should see what happens to my butt when I don’t.”

  “It’s a nice butt. Hard to do much damage to that.”

  The woman in front of them turned to look at them, facing forward when Odie caught her.

  “Why, thank you,” she said to Jag. She’d forget he was an operative for today.

  Watching the workers behind the counter whip up chili concoctions, surrounded by people in the tiny café, Odie sighed and tipped her head back, smelling the aroma. “I miss Washington so much.”

  “Roaring Creek doesn’t seem like your kind of town.”

  Looking back and up at him, her head still angled, she wondered why all the operatives had to be so damn good-looking. “It isn’t. But Cullen fell in love with a mountain girl.”

  “I thought it was strange a woman like you worked there.”

  “What do you mean, a woman like me?” She didn’t think he’d noticed much about her. Not as a woman, especially one he might be interested in.

  “Until I saw how much you respect Cullen.”

  She checked to make sure no one was listening to this. The woman in front of them was ordering.

  “Don’t get sappy on me.” She did not want to talk about her loyalty to Cullen. There was a reason for her loyalty, and she didn’t want the conversation to go there.

  “Maybe there’s hope for you after all,” he said.

  “Sappy…”

  “You’re unapproachable to anyone other than Cullen. Maybe you can learn something from him.”

  She spoke her mind and didn�
�t gloss over the truth. Did that make her unapproachable? To operatives, yes. Cullen was different. He was her friend.

  “Scared you off, didn’t I?” She kept it light. Any thing to steer him clear of what had made her unapproachable.

  “No, I’ve just learned to recognize the signs when a woman isn’t interested.”

  That gave her pause. “You were interested? How could I have missed that? I never miss that.”

  “I could tell. You were defensive.”

  “I was not.”

  “I think that’s why you come on so strong,” he said, confirming what she thought he’d seen in her and touching her at the same time. No one had ever noticed so much about her. “You scare them off before they have a chance to give it their best shot.”

  She couldn’t even argue with him. She’d already teased him about scaring him off. “I was interested.” She said it before she realized what she was revealing to him.

  Sensing his look, she didn’t turn to meet it. The woman ahead of them finished ordering. They were next.

  “Two Reds,” Jag told the black man behind the counter.

  Odie let him buy hers.

  Taking their food, Jag led her to two vacant stools at the other end of the counter. She sat next to him and used a fork to take her first bite of the chili-laden sausage. Spicy chili and mustard and onions melted in her mouth.

  “Mmm.” She closed her eyes and savored the taste.

  “You didn’t seem interested.”

  She stopped chewing to look at him.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let that one go, did you?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was flirting or leading up to something. “Just because I was interested doesn’t mean it would be good for me to explore it.” She wished she hadn’t let that slip.

  “You do seem to keep a lot bottled up.”

  What did he mean by that? Whatever he said next was what he really wanted to say.

  “There are things about you that I doubt even Cullen knows.”

  She stopped chewing another bite. Oh, he was so smooth. She was going to have to watch out for him from now on. “Like what?”

  “Things you keep to yourself.”

  He was using this nice time they were having together as a way of cracking her. All the enjoyment of flirting with him drained away. “Everyone doesn’t need to know personal details about me. I’m not an open book. So what?”