by Loyd, Sandy
“Sin?” the same voice asked. “You there?”
He lifted off her and said into his radio, “I’m here,” then rolled away to say more.
Sin? Was that his name? How fitting. He truly was some specter sent from hell to torment her. She wasn’t someone who rolled around in graveyards with strange men after being shot at. She was a grieving widow. A mother, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t she have enough to feel guilty over?
“Are you okay?”
She glanced up at the sound and caught him eyeing her with concern etched into his expression. Are you okay? Question of the year. No, she was not okay. She’d never be okay. To prove it, she’d just spent the last few minutes in mindless absurdity, wishing the kiss with a complete stranger could go on forever. She nodded and worked at pretending she wasn’t staring into the most incredible gaze, one that saw more than she cared to expose.
Avery rubbed her temples. Who the hell was he? Whoever he was, he’d probably saved her life. Risking another glance, she took a deep breath. Even in the shadows, she noted an arresting presence. His face wasn’t pretty. Too many angles and hard edges . . . adding to his undeniable maleness. And he had a power about him that held her in its force, which only increased her internal turbulence. No wonder she’d felt protected underneath him and totally safe, which made no sense at all.
In the blink of an eye, her fear returned full force. She was totally aware of her vulnerability. His size, dwarfing her five feet nine inches, suddenly made her feel defenseless.
“You sure?” He waited a moment, watching her closely. When she didn’t offer a reply, he stood, bent to help her, and flashed a quick, lopsided grin. “Sorry about that kiss. I got carried away.”
Avery took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her up. “I . . . um . . . no problem.” What else could she say? She’d gotten carried away too? He probably thought kissing men she’d never met in cemeteries after being shot at was her norm.
Someone shot at her.
“I need to go.” She yanked her hand out of his grasp. Home. Everything would be okay if she could just make it home and check on Andy. That thought became a driving force.
“Hold on.” He reached for his wallet, retrieved a business card, and held it out. “My name’s Jeffrey Sinclair.”
Avery stopped her retreat long enough to take the card.
So his name was Sinclair, not Sin. The fact didn’t ease her conscience any after what she’d just done. Sin or no Sin, she’d made a complete fool of herself. She had to get out of here.
Despite a million questions peppering her brain, she turned and darted out of instinct, disturbed by the kiss as much as what preceded it.
Never in a billion years would she consider herself someone who’d meet an unknown man’s mouth so crazily. Not when, according to Mike, she was frigid and never got emotional. But here she was an emotional mess and the thought only swamped her with more emotion.
She veered in the direction of her parked car as more humiliation rose up over her reaction to a complete stranger. His presence had made her feel cherished. That alone seemed totally illogical, but when he’d bent to kiss her, she hadn’t been able to turn away. In those few seconds she’d felt more alive than she had in fifteen years. Mike’s kisses had never generated such a response.
“Wait. I’d like to talk to you. Make sure you’re safe.”
That same gripping, almost disturbing voice carried on the wind. She fought to ignore the urgent tone, but somehow the quality reached past the physical, just as his concerned stare had done, touching something deep inside her she didn’t want touched.
“No . . . ,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m fine. Really. I appreciate your help, but I’ve got to get home.” By the time she made it to her car she was running. She slowed her steps and looked back. He’d made no attempt to follow, thank God, just stood and watched her in the moonlit shadows. With her focus still on him, she hit the keyless entry. Lights flashed and the locks snapped up. She scrambled inside.
In seconds, Avery had her seat belt fastened and the car started. She worked to keep her foot steady as she put the car in gear and sped off.
Maybe running away denoted cowardice, but cowardice was the least of her troubles.
• • •
“What happened? Why is she leaving?”
Jeffrey Sinclair ignored the questions, still keeping a protective watch as her car’s taillights flashed brighter when she slowed to turn left onto the main road leading out of the cemetery.
“Sin?” Desmond Phillips strode up to him. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
He turned to his business partner and grunted. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“But it’s obvious at this point she’s part of it. She’s been here every night we’ve staked out the gravesite. This would’ve been the perfect opportunity to discover what she knows.”
“It can wait. What I want to know is . . . why would someone try and kill her?”
“Diversionary tactic,” Des spit out. “Had to be. A high-powered rifle with a silencer? He was probably using a scope. Had a clean shot and missed. On purpose. To draw us out. Which in my book indicates some kind of involvement.”
“Maybe.” Sin’s gaze moved to the now empty street. He clenched a fist, hating that he had no answers. Why had he spoken to her? Even more disturbing, why had he kissed her . . . her, of all women?
He snorted. Hell, he knew why. He hadn’t been able to stop, that’s why. Now, more than ever, she intrigued him. Each and every evening she’d made her nightly visits, he’d stationed himself just feet away. Watching . . . waiting . . . wanting.
“Shit,” he whispered, and then shook his head. Why deny his attraction? She was one gorgeous woman with curves in all the right places. He’d dealt with attraction before and never lost his head. Not like tonight, when she’d seemed so forlorn, peering at him with those haunting eyes, begging him to give in to the need.
Sin’s fingernails dug deeper into his palms to the point of pain. He needed to find out if a connection existed between his company’s stolen technology and the two dead Army officers. He couldn’t let attractive females sidetrack him. As Des said, the lady now appeared to be involved. But to what extent?
“It’s a waste of time to keep watching tonight. Nothing’s going to happen now.”
Des’s voice yanked him back to the the reason they were lurking in a cemetery—the anonymous tip concerning the thefts from Sinclair Phillips & Coleman Electronics. “I agree.” He nodded. “Whoever we were waiting for most likely got scared off with all the commotion.”
“Had to be a setup.” Des flashed a light onto the grass surrounding the headstones. The light caught something shiny. He stopped and crouched to dig at the ground with his pocketknife.
“But why?” Sin drew a hand through his hair before resting it on the back of his neck. He began rubbing, trying to massage the kinks out. “What the hell have we stumbled into? Nothing makes sense. It’s as if someone’s playing a sick game. With our company. With our livelihood.” The last phase of testing SPC’s prototypes had been right on schedule until they’d gone missing. Now they had to deal with two more thefts.
“According to Colonel Williams’s report, neither Major Crandall nor Major Montgomery fit the traitor profiles, and there’s nothing to show their involvement.” He watched Des extract a bullet from a nearby tree. Yet Montgomery had been in charge of testing the powerful light-driven tracking, listening, and recording devices. The dead major was the last known person to have them in his possession. In an attempt to learn all he could about him . . . and about her, Sin had memorized the pertinent details.
The stunning brunette’s life read like a storybook romance on paper until Montgomery’s death. Her deceased husband had been an all-American—athletic, good-looking, gifted—the poster boy for his college fraternity. The high school sweethearts had lived in the D.C. area, attending local Alexandria schools until college. He’d been two years ahead of her, graduating su
mma cum laude from Georgetown University before entering the Army.
“The colonel’s right. Major Montgomery served ten years with a spotless record and several medals.” Sin exhaled a resigned sigh. “He’s a fricking war hero, not your usual scumbag who’s sold his country’s latest technology to the highest bidder.”
Crandall’s file read similarly. Despite the glowing words, Sin wasn’t about to remove either officer from his short list of suspects. Military Intelligence had cleared them of all wrongdoing, but he and his partners couldn’t afford to overlook any possibility. Too much was at stake.
“Maybe Montgomery needed the money.”
“Money wasn’t an issue.” Sin met Des’s gaze. “He came from old money, had access to a hefty trust fund. In fact, according to the file, several generations of Montgomerys earned money through interest, not hard work, and they all had one thing in common. They believed in giving back to society through public service, which plays into the war hero scenario.”
He didn’t want to think he harbored a prejudice toward dead heroes, but if Sin were totally honest, he’d have to admit to one. He’d always held such men in contempt, those born with not only the silver spoon but also the whole meal.
“Crandall didn’t have Montgomery’s megabucks, but their backgrounds are parallel.” Sin scrubbed a hand over his face. How could they be anything but heroes with that upbringing? Poster boys like Montgomery always had it easy, had their way paved, so much so they never had to truly fight for anything, always got their pick of everything just because of who they were . . . the best jobs with the best salaries attracting the best mates. The gutter Sin had climbed out of was totally at the other end of the spectrum. Unlike Montgomery or Crandall, he’d had to fight for everything.
Still, he dealt in logic and probabilities. Logically, the probabilities pointed to their innocence. As the colonel had stated during their last meeting, they had nil to go on as far as motive for tying either man to any treasonous treachery.
“The wife’s involved. I know it. She’s been here every night we have.” Des pocketed the bullets and was now shining the light in the distance. “That means something.”
“Coincidence. She is Montgomery’s widow, after all.”
“Too much coincidence for my liking. Who visits a gravesite so often these days?” Des’s voice held disbelief. “And for so long?”
“A grieving widow whose husband recently died?”
“Maybe.” Des nodded, still searching. “Or maybe she’s in on it and the husband wasn’t?”
Sin’s gaze followed the beam of light hitting row after row of white stones. “She’s definitely someone to question, but you can’t really think she’s involved in passing stolen technology?”
“I’m suspicious of everyone until I understand their motives,” Des said. “If she were the target tonight, she’d be dead. And since she was alive enough to run away, my gut tells me she’s part of the ploy to draw us out.”
“You’re too cynical. I’d think you’d be less biased, given your previous occupation,” Sin teased. Such scorn resulted from Des’s colossal mistake—marrying the wrong woman. Sin understood because he hadn’t made the best of choices in a wife and had his own form of cynicism in dealing with the opposite sex. Still, he tried to be objective about it.
“Cynical or not, she’s someone I want to interrogate.” Des flicked off the light, but not before Sin caught the annoyance on his face.
Yep, Des’s expression and tone indicated he’d already tried and convicted the lady. Sin wasn’t inclined to condemn her so hastily. She just didn’t seem like the traitor type. Having never finished her degree, she’d dropped out to marry Montgomery ten years ago and had a baby some seven months after the wedding.
Okay, so they had to get married, Sin thought. But that was kids being too hot and heavy and not using birth control. As far as he was concerned, being stupid and horny rarely led to selling out your country for monetary gain. He could even see how it might have happened, given Avery was a woman a man could lose his sanity over enough to forget the condom.
Lucky bastard . . . then again, maybe not so lucky as the guy’s ashes are buried only two feet away and she’s still vibrantly alive. If she were his, he wouldn’t want to be separated from her for an instant.
“There has to be something,” he whispered, not liking the ditch his thoughts had plowed into. “Some link with her dead husband to all of this.”
“The wife is the connection, I’m telling you.” Des pointed his flashlight at him as if making a point. “Wives, especially wives who’ve been married for so long, generally know not only where the bodies are buried, but how many and how deep.”
Sin didn’t reply. Right now the widow was the only solid lead they had.
“What about Williams? Maybe the military’s made progress.”
Sin frowned. “I doubt it.” Colonel Williams was the Army official in charge of procuring and, in his mind, the person who supposedly got things done. Yet their Army liaison seemed useless in this situation. “He’s not concerned with the theft, thanks to the fail-safe.” If the prototypes landed in the wrong hands, they’d shut down without the proper sequence of numbers, and then self-destruct in fifteen hundred hours. Roughly seven days from now unless reactivated. “I rushed through the process and finalized our contract with the Army without thoroughly weighing the consequences. I certainly didn’t think anyone would steal our product before it’d been fully tested.” Sin sighed. “I thought the military would provide an element of security.”
“It’s understandable.” Des clapped him on the back and grinned. “If you can’t trust your government, who can you trust?”
“That’s no excuse.” Sin clenched his jaw. “Not for us. Not for me. Fulfilling this contract is too essential to our success.” If the components weren’t found in time, Williams would declare the project a failure. SPC Electronics, would be out millions, a loss they couldn’t afford right now. Due to a provision in the contract stating SPC would be paid only upon confirmation of the technology working, there wasn’t a damned thing Sin could do to stop the verdict.
“It’s obvious the colonel has little interest in helping us.” Sin shook his head in frustration. “He doesn’t give a shit about whether or not we go under. His main concerns are saving face and not having to deal with military bureaucracy.” With only a week left, the clock was ticking.
“I’ve still got a few friends on the force who owe me some favors.” Des started walking toward the road. “I’ll see if they can analyze these bullets.” He patted his pocket. “Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”
Sin nodded and silently fell into step. At least Williams had provided him with a special sticker, the same one surviving spouses and family members received to enter the national cemetery after hours. “Maybe we should reconsider hiring a PI.”
“We don’t need outsiders.” Des exhaled heavily. “They hold too many risks.”
Sin nodded. Trust was the biggest issue, that and finding an investigator with the clearances necessary to deal with such sensitive information
“You’re right, of course,” Sin finally said as they reached his car. When Des sent him a questioning look, he added, “We should talk to Mrs. Montgomery, and the sooner the better. Let’s go back to the office to see if Eric’s still there.” Eric Coleman was their third partner.
He hit the keyless entry. Both opened their doors and slid inside simultaneously.
Sin wasn’t looking forward to questioning the lady, given his earlier reaction. Maybe Des could do it without him. The minute the thought was out, he discarded it.
An ex-homicide detective, Des could spot inconsistencies and lies within seconds of talking to a person, a handy skill to possess due to the sensitive nature of their business. He was also a real pro at solving puzzles, but his friend wasn’t what Sin would call a people person. With his square, muscular physique, he’d make a perfect bouncer in one of D.C.’s hottest nightclubs.
And despite his stern, military-like bearing and short, dirty-blond buzz cut, both throwbacks from an early Marine Corps experience, the ladies must like him as he never lacked female company.
Sin watched Des snap his seat belt into place. Smiling, he started the engine and pulled onto the road. As he drove, his grin spread. He stifled a chuckle. Since Sin had already irritated the female in question with his actions, he couldn’t risk poking the stick of Des’s contemptuous personality at her and inflaming her further. SPC’s chief of security might attract women like pollen-loaded daisies attracted bees, but his demeanor toward them was spiked with vinegar, not honey.
Questioning Mrs. Montgomery required teamwork, and they made a great team . . . sort of like good cop/bad cop when they interviewed prospective employees and clients.
Sin’s breath came out in a long sigh. Unfortunately, he’d have to play his good cop part if he wanted to gain any useful information.
The memory of having her soft body under his flashed and he shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat.
“Damn,” he said under his breath, punching the accelerator. No matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn’t shake free. He didn’t need any more complications.
And Avery Montgomery might prove to be a huge one.
• • •
Once Avery was miles down the road, well away from him, the incident replayed in her mind. Incident? She snorted, unable to describe what happened so simply.
An out-of-control kiss, maybe, but definitely not a mere incident. Guilt immersed her, filling her with more self-loathing. How could she have acted like a complete idiot . . . a lovesick fool without any restraint? She was a grieving widow, not some sex-starved hussy.
If that were true, then why did some part of her wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted? No. She hadn’t liked kissing him. Fear, grief, and remorse had hit her all at once, creating her erratic behavior. Even so, she had to admit that Mike’s kisses had never affected her like that.
At a red light, she closed her eyes for a brief second. Without the man’s influence, she could finally think clearer. Someone had shot at her. Her earlier fear returned full force. Ice water ran through her veins replacing some of the other emotions. She stared in the rearview mirror searching for unseen threats and making note of those behind her.
