“You don’t look like you’re here to work out.” Gunny stated the obvious fact.
“No. I’m looking for Armando. You seen him last day or two?” Kyle watched the old man’s eyes flash with alarm, then the older man shook his head.
“Not a good sign,” Gunny said as he looked at the floor. “What are you thinking?”
“He’s never done this before. Timmins is freaked. Armando left the base without checking in with him.” Kyle leaned toward the older man. “And I didn’t tell you that, either.”
“Got it.”
The tinkling bell over the door broke the awkward silence. Two older ex-team guys entered, carrying their well-worn workout bags. In their late forties, they still bore developed chest and arm muscles, maybe even more than the younger guys. Both of them sported graying ponytails and were covered in tattoos.
“Hey, guys,” Gunny said, addressing them.
“Shit, Gunny, you’ve been smoking again,” one of them said as he propped open the door. “All your brains go south on you?”
“There’s a reason I have twelve kids and five ex-wives.”
Kyle laughed inside at this comment. He knew Gunny well enough to know he married every one of those women before he had sex with them. This was a little known fact he and Armando had been privy to—hardened and tough Gunny was also a gentleman. He’d even married one in a jungle temple in Southeast Asia, the rites performed by a yellow-robed priest who painted both the bride and groom with symbols. Gunny told Kyle he couldn’t wait and had consummated his marriage on the way back to the family celebration in the covered litter pulled by water buffalo, piloted by his new wife’s brother. They had a hard time calming her mother down when she saw the disarray of their intricate face paintings, meant to ensure good luck, fertility, and great fortune.
The two men nodded at Kyle and went about selecting the equipment for their workout. Gunny motioned to the outside, so Kyle followed him through the entryway.
“So, what have you found out?”
“Timmons is tracking down Armando’s cell signal. Said it would take a day, maybe two. But this is Sunday and Timmons has to wait until tomorrow to call it in.”
“The waiting must be a sonofabitch.”
“I don’t do ‘wait’ very well.” Kyle thought about the waiting they used to do, buried in sand, perched on rooftops. Waiting for the enemy to show up. Waiting to be told to get the hell out of there. But this was worse.
“Looks like he’s trying to leave a trail of breadcrumbs. Not checking in with Timmins might be his first clue. I just don’t know where to go from there. I’m missing something important.”
“He didn’t tell you anything?”
“I’m thinking about the last few times we were together. He got a lot of text messages, but I’m not sure from who.” Kyle continued in a whisper, “Now that I think back on it, he didn’t look too pleased when he got them.”
“Can’t get the cell location any sooner?”
Kyle’s thoughts exactly. “Timmons says to wait until we have a location. Don’t want to alarm the locals or ask them for help.”
“Understood. Meantime, you’re hoping he’ll show up somewhere and it all was a false alarm.”
“Exactly.”
“Possible he got offed?”
“Nah. No fucking way. Not alone, anyway.”
“He have a girl?”
“Between girls.”
“Someone who pulled him back into the dark ages?”
Kyle recognized this as Gunny’s way of dosing out a bit of his personal philosophy about not getting permanently involved with women. Gunny felt women were the biggest threat to a man’s freedom and always told the men to steer clear, advice he seldom took himself. Kyle tended to agree with him.
“No. Only people outside the community who could pull him away like this would be someone from his family in Puerto Rico.”
“Then you start with them.” Gunny leveled a dead-serious stare. “Kyle, they don’t know how many months I got. I never made it to your ranks, but I feel like a father to all you team guys. If you want me, I’ll help.”
Chapter 3
Christy straddled the line between fury and fear all the way back to her condo. She checked her rear view mirror every thirty seconds to make sure that cretin hadn’t followed her home. Trying to remember evasion strategies she’d read in some of her favorite thriller novels, she’d doubled back, turned right, then drove for ten minutes in the opposite direction, finally headed for her place. She planned never to go back to that damned house or even the street again for the rest of her life. She’d just take that page and rip it from her Thomas Bros. Map Book. She would familiarize herself with all the other streets and buildings of San Diego County except for the ones on page 68.
Then she remembered she’d left all three of Wayne’s red Patterson Realty signs back at the house.
“Damn!” Well, it served Wayne right. Christy wasn’t entirely sure of Wayne’s involvement in this afternoon’s caper. Let him go back and get those signs. She chuckled at the thought of Wayne finding the naked crazy guy at the front door. Now that would be a sight she would go back to see.
She drove into her condo garage, double-checking dark corners of the structure for evidence of someone lurking there. She’d never worried about this before.
All kinds of possibilities and scenarios ran through her mind as she rode the elevator to her floor. Perhaps Wayne wasn’t who she thought he was. Could there be a jealous husband or jilted lover from one of the affairs Christy imagined he’d had?
Wayne must have been the real target, the thought. After all, the worst thing she had done was help some guy max out his credit card at Madame M’s lingerie shop. She was the shop’s best saleswoman. Last she checked, this wasn’t a crime.
Once inside, she put the whole afternoon’s incident out of her mind by stripping her clothes and donning her workout gear, then headed for the upscale gym on the top floor of her condo complex.
Every area of the complex had a terrific view of San Diego Harbor. After a few minutes into her spin class, her body was covered in glistening sweat as she worked out to her iPod playing her favorite Secret Garden piece. The beauty of the poignant viola speared her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Damn, I’m lonely.
All her relationships with men ended badly. And the guy she just met had some sort of sick death wish for her. She barely knew him, well, except for how nicely he fit between her legs. Though she tried, she couldn’t get that image out of her head. Why were all these weird men coming into her life now, just when she wanted to embark on a professional career?
“You okay, Christy?” Marla, her personal trainer, touched her arm.
Christy realized the class had stopped for a water break. She looked up and saw the concern in Marla’s eyes. Christy buried her face in the white towel around her neck. “No. I’m not alright,” she said, her voice muffled through the towel so Marla couldn’t hear the waver there. Memories flooded in of how she’d tried to scream and how that big hand had covered her mouth, how she’d felt with him pressed down onto her body, and how she’d reacted to those damn blue eyes that seemed to drink in her face. She could easily mistake it for attraction. What was going on?
“Aw, honey.” Marla wrapped her arms around Christy’s waist. “Take a break. Come on, let’s go into my office for a bit.”
Christy nodded and let Marla lead her into a private office off the spin room. Marla motioned to a chair in front of her desk, and Christy collapsed there, continuing to wipe her face and neck with the towel. Marla punched the phone and spoke softly.
“Marla here. Hey, can Trey finish my spin class for me? Something’s come up.” Marla locked eyes on Christy.
“I’m fine. Don’t do this, Marla,” Christy whispered.
“Okay? Good. Tell him I owe him one.” Marla hung up the phone. “Not a problem. Happens all the time.” She pulled her desk chair over and held Christy’s hands
in both of hers. “Come on, spill it. Don’t make me dig.”
“Today was supposed to be my first open house.”
“Yup, you were excited about it.”
“Yes, I was…until I got there…” Tears welled up in her eyes and her lower lip quivered.
“Christy, what happened?”
“There was this crazy guy there who was asleep in the master bedroom, stark naked.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Yes…” Christy’s chest was heaving and she found it difficult to breathe.
“The creep. Did he hurt you?”
Did he hurt me? “He scared me, that’s all.”
“You call the cops?”
“No. I mean, he thought I was breaking into his house. I can’t call the cops. Maybe Wayne set it up…I’m just not sure what happened.”
“Who’s Wayne?”
“The agent whose listing it is.”
“Tell me honestly, Christy. Were you hurt?”
“He ripped off my pantyhose and messed with my purse, but no, I’m not hurt.”
“Jeez, Christy. What do you mean messed with your purse? Screw the purse. He scared you to death!”
The two women looked at each other. Christy’s composure was coming back, but Marla seemed to be losing hers.
“I know. He could have killed me, but he didn’t.”
“Exactly. And you’re giving him a pass for acting like a Neanderthal? Why would he rip off your pantyhose?”
“He used them to tie my hands together.”
“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. That’s assault, Christy. That man should go to jail.”
“Yes, I understand, and under normal circumstances, I would agree. But somehow I got that this guy was simply reacting to what he thought was a threat. Maybe he’s not right in the head. I don’t want to have anything more to do with him. I just want to stay away. He let me go and he didn’t really hurt me, just scared me is all. I don’t know, but I somehow don’t feel it’s entirely his fault.” She looked up at Marla. “Does that sound crazy?”
“Absolutely. You’re not thinking straight at all, Christy.”
“He secured my wrists to keep me quiet…so he could talk to me.”
“That sick bastard.”
“No, I mean I was pretty hysterical and I did bite him and even spiked his knee with my high heel. I fought as hard as I could, Marla. He attempted to get information out of me, like he thought I was some sort of undercover agent or something, like I was there to do him harm. His mind had it all screwed up.”
Marla nodded.
“Are there lots of paranoid whackos like this in San Diego?”
“Not generally. But then, I don’t seem to attract them like you do.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Marla rubbed her hands with her thumbs. “How did you get hired to hold this open house?”
“Wayne.” Christy winced as she forced herself to say the name again. “He told me they were expecting me. I don’t want to think he purposely set me up, but you know, I can’t figure it out otherwise.”
“What can I do to help?” Marla’s sincere voice soothed.
Christy stood up and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Marla. You already have.” At the door, she turned. “I’m going to report this to my manager tomorrow as soon as I get into the office. If I felt I was in danger now, I would call the police.”
Marla shook her head. “I’d say call them just in case, Christy. Don’t be a wimp. That’s how come these creeps stay out there. Nobody turns them in.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m going to take a hot bath and go to bed early. Thanks again, Marla.”
Marla handed her a business card with her home and cell number on it. “Call me tonight if you need company. Honest. If you have trouble sleeping, that’s a gut check that you need to call the cops, okay?”
The warm bubbles in Christy’s bath sluiced all the tension from her muscles and bones. But every time her eyelids closed and she began drifting off to sleep, those she saw those blue eyes staring down at her and those full lips, slightly upturned at the edges, and his swallow that had forced her attention to wander down his tanned neck and rest just under his stubbled chin. She could smell the muskiness of this man’s heaving chest as he arched over her while she peeked at the trail of light brown hair that led downward to the place where their bodies touched. When he whispered in her ear, asking who she was, he had pressed his cheek next to hers. She had to endure his scent all the way home in the car. There was a part of her that wanted to reach up and—do what? Kiss him?
Get a grip!
After the bath, she went to bed with a big glass of warm milk, taking her favorite romance novel with her. The bath had done its job and she fell asleep, waking up at midnight to turn off her reading light.
She lay back again, deciding to put up with the fear while she studied him in her memory—every inch of him, and fell asleep for the second time.
Mr. Simms came in early, so Christy made sure to arrive first, just a little before eight o’clock. She knew no one else except the office staff would likely come in until well past ten.
“Good morning, Christy,” he said as he passed by her cubicle. “Nice to see you here bright and early. That’s a good sign.” He appeared in a chipper mood and Christy didn’t pick up any indication he was somehow involved in the fiasco the day before.
Good. I’ll just tell him, then.
“Mr. Simms, I have something to speak with you about. It’s urgent.”
“Oh? Something happen?”
“Yes.” Christy was surprised at her forcefulness.
“Okay, come on in.” He indicated she should follow him to his office. Once inside, he closed the glass sliding door behind her.
Christy took up a chair in front of the red cherry wood desk. Plaques from various agencies, awards from the Board of Realtors, as well as several service groups, including Rotary, decorated the walls. An impressive collection, Christy had to admit, not quite sure why she hadn’t noticed them before.
“Shoot.” He waited without expression on his face, hands folded over the calendar desk blotter. On the back credenza sat a picture of a woman, two children, and a black Labrador retriever. A family like she’d always wanted.
“I went to do the open house on Sedgeway yesterday for Wayne. You know, his new listing?”
“Oh, that’s a great one. Bank sale, right?”
“Um, yes. Short sale.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I got attacked.”
Mr. Simms fell back into his chair and almost toppled over. He righted himself and took a big sigh. “Did he…did he…hurt you?”
“Yes and no.”
“Meaning?”
“He didn’t rape me, but he, he…” Christy’s eyes stung in reflex, trying to create tears that would no longer come. Her lower lip trembled. Her throat was parched.
Mr. Simms was quick to make it around his desk. He knelt in front of Christy and placed his hands on her upper arms with care, as if he didn’t want to appear inappropriate. “I’m so sorry, Christy. Have you been to the police?” he asked, his demeanor genuine and tender. She appreciated that.
“No.”
“Why?” He rubbed her arms gently and then took her hands in his. His moist, warm hands were a comfort to her. “We have to report this. You know that,” he said softly. “Could you identify him?”
Oh yes, I could. I can’t get the look and smell of him out of my mind.
“Mr. Simms, I’m thinking there was some sort of a mistake. Maybe even a prank. I don’t want to blame Wayne, but this guy was like, waiting for me. He was…he was…naked.”
Simms removed his hands from her arms and stood up, shaking his head.
“Bastard. Did he say he knew Wayne?”
Christy could tell Simms was considering Wayne’s involvement, which further underscored some of her own hesitation to be anywhere near the man.
> “No. He didn’t. In fact, Wayne acted like he’d never heard of him.”
The appearance of a very angry Wayne, puffed up and red, tore apart their conversation. He pulled open the glass sliding door without being given the nod of approval from Simms, and wedged himself into the room, making it feel suddenly very stuffy.
“What the hell happened, Christy? My clients called me, and they’re so mad they want to cancel the listing.” His tiny bloodshot eyes darted back and forth between Christy and their manager.
“Wait a minute, Wayne.” Simms put a palm on Wayne’s sausage-shaped chest, holding him back from coming any closer to her. “Christy here was just explaining what went on yesterday, and I have to say, I find this highly disturbing.”
“Disturbing? Disturbing? I’ll tell you what’s disturbing!” Wayne said, looking like he wanted to crash through Simms and grab Christy himself.
Great! Another man wants to attack me.
“I work damned hard to get a good listing, then try to take my wife and kids to the zoo—just try to take one Sunday off to be with them the way I never do—and I drive by the house on our way home, and voila, no open house signs. No sign of Christy anywhere. Then I get home and I get this irate message on my answering machine telling me I’m fired.”
“Wayne, you sack of shit.” Christy’s own surprise wasn’t half of what got reflected on Wayne and Mr. Simms’s faces. One of the office staff came running to check the ruckus so Christy toned down her voice. “I was going to hold it open, but there was this naked crazy guy who came after me and…and…”
“What?” Wayne looked genuinely shocked.
Simms interrupted. “Apparently, Christy was attacked, Wayne. That’s what she was trying to tell you.”
“No way.”
Christy hated the man now. Genuinely hated him. His sense of morals, his scheming, his lack of sensitivity to her and what she was going through, and the way he’d pushed his oversized body into Mr. Simms’s office. Anger boiled in her stomach. Christy had reached her limit.
Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1) Page 3
