by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
He figured since there weren’t any senior-officer issues here and the parking lot was pretty much abandoned, he would step back and let Josie have her outlet by handling this one on her own. And heaven help that soon-to-be-pounded reporter.
Shannon launched, swinging her precious camera bag like a medieval spiked mace toward Josie’s head. Diego’s muscles bunched. Before he could move, Josie’s arm shot up. She snagged the camera strap, taking only a glancing blow to the shoulder from the bag. She spun, leg raised, the flat of her tennis shoe catapulting Shannon backward.
The reporter scrambled, swiped her feet to knock Josie’s legs, toppled her off balance. The two women rolled, each seeking dominance. Cupcake had a few moves of her own that attested to martial arts knowledge.
Another time, he might have fallen victim to that male tendency to get fired up by a catfight, especially one he knew Josie would win in spite of Cupcake’s training. But there was no thrill in this for him tonight, with fury still storming over Bridges’s stunt.
Josie slammed Shannon onto her stomach, kneed her in the back and twisted her arm behind her. She wrenched the camera-case strap from the reporter’s tight grip and tossed it to Diego. “Get rid of the film. I may want people to know about us, but not this way.”
He totally agreed with Josie on that.
“Can do.” Diego popped the camera and exposed the roll with one gratifying jerk.
“Jesus, Josephine.” Shannon spit grit from her mouth, her cheek still pressed to gravel. “It’s not like the two of you are Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston, for crying out loud.”
Still, Josie didn’t let go. A battlefield sheen he recognized well from his past slicked her eyes.
“Hey, Josie?” Diego squatted beside her. “Are you with me here? We need to haul out of the parking lot before somebody calls the cops.”
Her eyes blinked clear. “Oh, right.”
Diego angled his head into Shannon’s line of sight. “And don’t even think about pressing charges, because I will testify very honestly that you threw the first punch. You can be sure those charges will be reversed right back around on you.”
Diego dropped the camera case in front of her.
Hefting Josie gently by the arm, he passed her purse to her. Shannon snatched her bag and scurried off to her car.
Josie stood silently until Shannon’s nondescript blue rental left the lot, before turning back to Diego.
“Thank you for not interfering,” she said with all the formal precision of a stranger.
“You had the fight covered.”
“Such as it was.” She flicked dirt off her leather flight jacket and picked at the split in the knee of her jeans. “She wasn’t much of an opponent for somebody in need of a good tension-relieving workout.”
“Wanna wrestle with me after all?” he offered, only half-joking.
Josie didn’t even smile, just stared up at him with cold anger—and a hint of hurt. “We only met a couple of weeks ago, remember. You don’t even know me.”
“Okay. No wrestling.” Disappointment stabbed. Too much.
She made a big production out of dusting the rest of her clothes, her black jeans, adjusting her belt buckle, in control and so distant. “Is the invitation still open to speak with your contractor friend even though I’m no longer on the market for a wrestling partner?”
He was insulted that she would even have to ask. But then the male species hadn’t done a lot to redeem themselves in her eyes over the past hour. His ex-wife and Mike Bridges would sure make a helluva pair.
“Of course the invitation is still open. He’s inside waiting for us.”
She nodded, lips tight as she strode toward the bar. “Then let’s get to work. I’ll eat off your French fry plate a few times and that should go a long way for starting the couple gossip without Shannon’s pictures.”
Diego opened the bar door, voices and music swelling out. “One sampler platter from the bar menu, coming up.”
He’d learned something valuable tonight that didn’t bode well for him. Josie Lockworth carried a grudge.
Man, Diego Morel pissed her off.
Josie stretched along her living-room sofa, head propped on the armrest. She tossed a Beanie Baby up again and again and again, working out the ache in her shoulder from the glancing blow of Shannon’s camera case.
Pitch. Catch. Pitch. Catch. Her military bear. Up in the air. Kinda like her future.
She snatched the Beanie bear mid-plummet and plopped it on the coffee table. Leaning over the arm of the sofa, she hefted her flight bag up and open. She fished out the latest stack of data and dropped it into her lap.
Thud.
Great.
And she was only halfway through the stuff.
Josie shuffled aside the pages upon pages of data streams that were already blurring together and tugged free an old scheduling logbook instead. Musty pages crinkled as she turned them for…yawn…she glanced at the clock.
Five hours.
What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, turned the page, reading dates for TDYs to bases in Florida, New Mexico, Ohio, back to New Mexico.
Josie slammed the book closed. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. Maybe her mother really had screwed up. But if she had, was there faulty logic lurking in this test, as well?
Damn it all, she’d gone over everything in her current day procedures. Diego hadn’t found fault either. Must be that mess with Bridges that had her doubting herself. Come Monday, once she filed the Memo of Record, she would feel better, more proactive and in control of her life. Instead of feeling lonely and frustrated on a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do but play catch with a toy.
Her feet twitched with the need to act. Maybe there was something she could do now. Diana had e-mailed the requested information on the Cipher early this morning. Did her sister never sleep?
She could forward it to Kayla for the investigation into Rainy’s death. Or she could call. Hadn’t she been trying to reach out and connect with something more than cyber waves?
Tossing the Beanie bear to the coffee table, Josie snagged her cordless phone from beside the stacks of papers. She keyed through until she found the stored number and hit dial.
The phone rang once, twice…until by the fourth ring she was about ready to give up.
“Hello?” a gasping voice interrupted the ringing, background noise of computer games and a television cartoon pulsing through.
“Kayla? Josie here. Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. I can call back later.”
“Josie! Great to hear from you. And there’s never a peaceful moment anyhow. I have a daughter. Remember? I’m just trying to restore order to the house before we start a new week. Jeez, I welcome the excuse to sit with a soda for a few minutes.” Bleeps and music from the computer game grew louder in the background as Kayla yelled away from the phone. “Jazz, turn that down! I’m trying to talk, sweetie.”
The noise level lowered from deafening to a dull roar. “Okay,” Kayla exhaled a long breath. “I’m here now. Sorry to sound so scattered. What’s going on with you?”
Josie couldn’t imagine Kayla anything but mega-organized and intense. A single mother, she juggled solo parenthood and a high-pressure job on the Athens, Arizona, police force with seeming ease.
Which brought Josie right back to the reason for her call. “I wanted to let you know I’m e-mailing some new scoop for you that may or may not have something to do with Rainy.”
“Once I get the youngun’ off to bed tonight, I’ll log into the secure lines.” The pop and fizz of a can opening crackled. “Where did you find the information?”
“My source would prefer to remain anonymous.”
A low laugh wafted through the lines. “Did your computer geek source enjoy her mac and cheese while she turned over the information?”
“Damn, you’re good.” Josie tried to laugh along, but this weekend had sucked the life right out of her and
her chuckle came off like more of a strangled squawk.
“Are you okay?” Concern coated Kayla’s solemn tones.
Innate defensiveness rose at any mention of possible depression or, heaven forbid, instability. “Of course I’m okay. Talking about Rainy just makes me a little blue. Normal blue though, understand what I mean?”
“Completely.” A pause stretched with the sound of Kayla changing the phone to the other ear. “And there’s really nothing else going on?”
“Just some crap at work.” She scooped the bear up again and started tossing higher and higher. “My boss thinks it’s okay to hit on me.” The tumbling toy deflected off her hand to the floor.
“Oh my God. Did you kick his tail?”
“And get thrown into Leavenworth?” She angled off the couch to snag the poor bear from his crash landing on the gray carpet. “I don’t think so. I warned him not to come near me again. I’m also going to make a sealed Memo of Record tomorrow after my flight to back up my story in case there’s a second incident. But beyond that, without more proof—or his admission—there’s not much else I can effectively do.”
“Sounds like you’re following procedure and doing what needs to be done. You hang in there, now.”
She smoothed and redistributed the uneven lumps in the tiny beanbag after its fall. “It just sucks seeing someone you admired turn out to be so—”
“Scummy?” Kayla offered between slurping sips of soda.
“Pretty much sums up Mike Bridges.”
Silence filled the phone lines. Kayla always had been good about listening with a sympathetic ear, but Kayla’s silence grew more thunderous than the bleeping computer game blaring in the background—way beyond sympathetic attention.
“Kayla? Are you still there?” Josie asked even though she could still hear Jazz’s computer game.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice shook then leveled. “I was just pouring Jazz some juice.”
“Mom,” Jazz’s voice floated through. “Did you just say juice? Can I have some?”
But hadn’t Kayla just said…
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out her friend was lying to cover an awkward silence. “Kayla? What’s going on?”
More quiet screamed through, followed by a heavy sigh. “Hold on. Let me shut the door so Jazz doesn’t overhear.” Footsteps and a click sounded before one more deep breath vibrated through. “Do you remember how we used to admire all those lieutenants in uniform when they came to town? Well, I was actually involved with one.”
Oh, God, this couldn’t be going where she thought.
“Mike Bridges is my daughter’s father.”
Holy crap. She hadn’t seen that one coming.
Josie dropped the Beanie Baby onto her lap. She’d known the guy Kayla had been seeing was named Mike, but she’d never imaged…“You’re serious? But you were a teenager when Jasmine was born. He was an adult. A commissioned officer in the air f—”
“Stop,” Kayla commanded, her near whisper carrying an indisputable authority that would halt criminals in their tracks. “I was young, easily dazzled and God knows he had charm.”
Josie clenched the phone. She couldn’t deny Kayla’s words. Hell, even as an adult, she’d almost been snowed by Bridges. And the man must have some good points if he’d managed to charm serious Kayla for any length of time. “God, Kayla, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m over him. He didn’t want to get married, and quite frankly after the way he acted when I told him about the unexpected pregnancy, I wasn’t so sure I wanted him anymore, either. I mean it that I’m over him. It was just strange hearing his name out of the blue like that.”
Bravado on Kayla’s part? Or truth? Either way, Josie knew proud and serious Kayla would never admit a lingering hurt.
“It’s not a big secret per se. We just don’t want to advertise the fact and get Jazz worked up. He makes his child-support payments like clockwork. I’m not too proud to take what my child deserves. But he isn’t a part of her life or mine. Mike and I decided it was better that he stay away completely rather than break Jazz’s heart by not being a good father.”
“And you let him live?” Josie would have kicked his butt for abandoning a child. An image of Jazz’s sweet little face flashed to mind, those wide hazel eyes that—holy cow—the child had inherited from her father.
Josie’s fist clenched around the toy in her lap. Her desire to pummel Bridges now far outstripped anything she’d felt earlier. And she’d been mighty darn mad at the man earlier.
Kayla continued, “It’s his loss, missing out on this incredible little girl. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Contrition nipped. Firing up her friend wouldn’t make the situation better. “You’re right. I’m sorry for saying the wrong thing.”
“Don’t even worry about it. I’ve had years to come to peace with this.”
“You’re amazing.” Josie wished she had Kayla’s calm.
“I’m glad somebody thinks so.” Blips and music swelled in the background again, Kayla returning to her normal life. “Oops, I think Jazz is trying to hint at me to get off the phone. It’s been great talking to you, but I promised I would join her for a computer game of Roller Coaster Sim.”
“Take care.”
“You, too, friend. I’ll be looking for the files after the youngun’ here goes to sleep tonight. G’bye now.”
“Bye.” Josie turned off the cordless phone and replaced it on the coffee table, draping the cammo bear on top. Her eyes skipped over to the shelves full of other Beanie creatures crammed into every nook in a rainbow splash of color.
Quiet blanketed her condo, the silence even thicker now in contrast to Kayla’s full and noisy life. And how pathetic that she was sitting here feeling sorry for herself when Kayla had yanked her life back together after a tough start with the teenage pregnancy. Kayla had overcome so much to be a successful cop already on the fast track.
Josie gave herself a mental thump. Time to quit whining and be honest. She was totally pissed at Mike Bridges and was transferring that to Diego. Oh, her biker boyfriend had been a butthead, no doubt. Yet not so much in comparison to her boss.
Yeah, she was a prickly, tattletale grudge holder, all a product of that nagging, deep-seated sense of fair play. But she wanted to forgive Diego. If only he would offer her bruised pride some salve first.
Standing outside the control room on Monday, Josie watched Diego Morel stride up the empty hallway. Jeans and black leather had never looked so good.
Her temper had cooled somewhat. But the Josephine inside her still cringed over what Diego had said about their kiss in the desert being a meaningless encounter. Words hurt. More than punches as far as she was concerned.
After being the target of so much gossip over the years, she should have been immune to hateful barbs. But somehow the verbal slap from Diego stung her in a way Bridges never could. Although currently Bridges was high up on her dirt list.
She should have been strapping on to the Predator for today’s morning test flight. Instead that bastard boss of hers had ordered a crew change in some macho, message-sending power play. She would fly the remote control instead, while Craig Wagner rode in the saddle for this exciting-as-hell mission, taking the modified aircraft to a higher altitude.
Thanks bunches, Boss.
Kayla’s revelation about Mike Bridges only added more tinder to her fiery anger. He didn’t deserve her respect. And once this mission was complete, she would take great pleasure in filing that Memo of Record.
Diego drew closer in the solitary corridor, his dark hair pulled back today. Her fingers itched to tug it free.
Biker boots thudded down the thin industrial carpet in a swagger that somehow kept a hint of the military precision. He halted beside her, one shoulder to the wall. “I owe you an apology.”
Yes, he did. But in spite of her wish for ego balm, she was now starting to wonder if she could afford to accept it. “You alr
eady gave me one back in the parking lot this weekend.”
“One that you rejected. I was there, too, and yeah it was a half-assed apology that didn’t deserve to be taken seriously.”
“We do agree on something then.”
A dry smile kicked up one side of his face before it faded again. “I was in a crappy mood because of things that had nothing to do with you. I owe you a real apology. Whether you want to accept it or not is up to you. But I’m still damn well going to say my piece.”
Ah, hell. He was going to be reasonable, something Josephine would never be able to resist.
Still, the ever-fair Josephine said, “Go on.”
“I was wrong to make the ‘couple of weeks’ crack, and I was wrong to insinuate you would hop from my bed to his—”
“Insinuate?”
His half smile returned, dug deeper into his face. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you, Buttercup?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t know everything about you, but I do know you better than that. And I like what I know enough that I—” he paused, skimmed a hand up to smooth along her French-braided hair “—really want to know more, which is why all of this torqued me off until I went into Thor mode.”
“You were jealous.” Her breakfast flipped in her stomach.
Diego bit out a curse. “Yeah, I guess you could put it that way if it helps.”
“It shouldn’t. And somehow it does anyway.”
He hadn’t gone violent with his jealousy the way some guys might have. Just been a jerk.
Hands jammed in his pockets, he studied the top of his boot scuffing the carpet. “My, uh, ex, wasn’t exactly the faithful type. That doesn’t excuse what I said, but maybe at least you’ll understand where I was coming from.”
An ex? Jealousy sure was an ugly emotion. Josie forgave him a little more. Practical Josephine, however, wanted to know more about this ex of his. “Your ex-wife?”
“Stephanie. We were married for five years, during which time she plowed her way through every available guy in town the minute I went TDY.”
