With Agent Kinsley watching her expectantly, she shrugged away her thoughts. “It’s not a big deal, and you don’t owe me an apology for someone else’s behavior.”
“He kissed you, and then he left.” Agent Kinsley set his hand over hers, and she liked the way it felt. Strong and firm, it communicated dominance and comfort. “You were angry when you found out.”
She understood his implication—that she’d kissed him because she had been angry at Liam. Maybe she had been, but one kiss with this sexy agent had solved that problem. “A little, but then I got over it. I’m not one of those people who hold grudges or obsesses over inconsequential things. He knocked my socks off last night, and you did it this morning. It must be an FBI thing. Do they give you kissing lessons at Quantico?”
He laughed, a warm, rich sound that raced through her system and implanted in her core. “That’s classified.”
“Meaning that if you tell me, you’ll have to handcuff me to your bed and make me forget?” Tru didn’t have much use for a filter, and she liked to flirt with handsome men whose kisses made her knees wobbly.
He laughed again, mischief dancing through his irises. “I prefer rope or leather cuffs. Less bruising.”
Lord help her. He was either kinky or dominant, perhaps both, and he was flirting back. Combined with his physical attractiveness and the way he kissed, he could have her on her knees in no time—and she wasn’t in the habit of kneeling for just anybody. She pressed her thighs together to shut her pussy up. “That’s sensible.”
He pointed, indicating her outfit. “Where are you off to today?”
“They have bicycle paths around here. I’m going to explore, see what I find.” She hoped it didn’t sound like she was trolling for more bodies—because she wasn’t. If she never saw another murdered body, it would be too soon. From his nod, she gathered that he hadn’t gone down that path of thought. “Are you busy? You could come along. It’ll only be a few hours.”
“Sorry.” He appeared genuinely regretful. “I have to work. Otherwise I’d join you. It sounds like fun.”
The waitress set a plate in front of Tru. Pancakes heaped with fresh blueberries in a blueberry sauce created a visual feast, and the scent of fresh blueberries whet her appetite. She picked up her fork and dug in. “Thanks.”
Agent Kinsley stood. “That looks so good, and I see that my food is ready as well. Enjoy your bike ride.”
She waved because her mouth was full, and she watched him walk away, enjoying the view until he made it back to the table he shared with his fellow agents. She liked him. He had an intangible quality that piqued her interest. If she thought about it, she could probably pin down exactly what it was, but she didn’t want to spoil with needless logic the pleasant feeling that lingered after their brief chat.
Intangible. It meant indefinite or unclear to the mind. The word itself disappeared after being thought or uttered, impossible to capture or hold. Tru liked to think that intangibles weren’t meant to be confined or imprisoned—only appreciated and wondered at. She could enjoy appreciating and wondering about Agent Kinsley and his sexy, well-muscled chest. And she knew better than to try to capture her visions or force them to happen before their time.
The path she chose for the ride was a twenty mile trail that followed the ocean and wended through mostly inhabited areas. The coastline here was in no way rural, and as she rode, she composed lines for her blog. She’d include information about the beautiful scenery, the joggers, in-line skaters, speed walkers, and those out for a stroll. Every now and again, she came across vendors with their wares spread on carts. She could buy anything from a new purse to fresh fruit. On the way back, she stopped at a fruit stand blooming with cherries. Cherries always reminded her of home, and their season was coming to a close. Impulsively she purchased a bunch of cherries and four Red Delicious apples.
She didn’t hold out long. Less than a mile later, she stopped and parked her bike off the path. She perched on an outcropping overlooking the ocean and dug into the cherries. At home, she and Poppy, her best friend, always had contests to see who could spit the seeds farthest. It annoyed the hell out of Gram, who maintained that spitting wasn’t a ladylike pastime. Then she would lament that Tru had never been very ladylike. Once she and Poppy had convinced Gram to join in, and they found the woman could out-spit them all.
As she tried for maximum distance, Tru wondered if Liam or Agent Kinsley—he hadn’t invited her to call him by his first name—could be persuaded to take part in her game. Liam probably would. If he liked to hack the CIA, then he definitely wasn’t one who was all about rules and propriety. She had no idea about Agent Kinsley. He’d seemed relaxed and laid back, but then he’d apologized for Liam leaving the way he did. Unless he’d used it as an excuse to talk to her?
Her lips tingled in remembrance of that last kiss, and she wondered what it would feel like if he actively participated next time. Of course, there probably wouldn’t be a next time, and her visions had never hinted that he would kiss her—only that he would stare at something, possibly a bed that she might or might not be in.
She made it back to The Abiding Tide before lunch, and she found the three agents camped out at one of the picnic tables in the fenced yard overlooking the cliff. They still wore suits, though in deference to the warming of the day, they’d each removed their jackets. They looked out of place, and that anomaly drew her inner moth to their collective flames.
Tru stopped inside to grab bottles of ice cold water, and then she beelined for the FBI table. She set water in front of each agent, and then she plopped the bags of cherries and apples in the center. “Presents,” she announced. “Picked yesterday, according to the farmer.”
Agent Lockmeyer looked up, a tired smile curving her lips. “I love cherries. Thank you.” She reached into the bag and took a handful before passing it to Agent Forsythe.
The blonde agent snagged some and set the bag back in the center of the table. “Thanks.”
A bit perturbed that they hadn’t offered any to Agent Kinsley, Tru sat on the bench next to him and offered cherries.
He grimaced. “I don’t like fruit.”
Nobody had ever uttered such a sentiment to her before. Sure, people often disliked a certain fruit, but there was always something else they liked. And who didn’t like apples? Shock must have shown in her face because he scrambled for cover.
“Of course, these might be tart.” He took one and popped it into his mouth.
“It has a pit,” she warned. If he choked, it would be an excuse to put her arms around him, but it wouldn’t be the right kind of fun. It wouldn’t lead to a second kiss.
He chewed carefully, and when he spit out the pit, he did it into a napkin which he wadded up and set on the table. He regarded her with a tight smile. “Not bad.”
She laughed at his bad attempt to cover his distaste. “You hated it.”
He twisted the cap to the water. “I appreciate the water. It’s hot as sin out here.”
“Yes, well there’s no law against wearing shorts or T-shirts.” She looked at Jed. “I wouldn’t publish pictures on my blog, not even if you turned out to have sexy legs. Your secret would be safe with me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this on your blog,” Agent Lockmeyer returned. “But I know you will. Tragedy and sensation sell well.
Tru couldn’t argue with that logic. She hadn’t yet told her editor about the incident because she knew Julia would press her for an immediate story. She shrugged to let Agent Lockmeyer know it was out of her control. “I can give you another three days at the most.” If Julia found out through other sources, then she’d insist on an early report.
Lockmeyer sighed, tilting her head in acceptance. “Well, I guess I can’t ask for more.”
She could, but she wouldn’t get anything. Tru’s gaze fell to the surface of the table, and she noticed a digital photograph on Agent Kinsley’s tablet. “I know that guy.”
; He closed the cover, blocking her view of the information on the page. “Of course you do. You’re the one who discovered his body.”
The body of the person she’d discovered had been misshapen and bloated. He had barely appeared human. The picture on the tablet reminded her of someone else. She frowned. “That doesn’t look like the man I found. No—I know him from somewhere else.”
Agent Forsythe nodded. “Perhaps you saw him around here? He was a guest here until three nights ago.”
“I’ve only been here two nights.” Tru struggled to remember where she’d seen the face before. The trouble with constant travel was that after a time, the faces of the people she saw blended together. She held her hand out to Agent Kinsley. “Can I see the picture again?”
He glanced toward Agent Lockmeyer before flipping the cover open and unlocking the screen. Then he enlarged the picture so that no other information was visible. Only then did he hand it over. “Maybe you saw him as you were checking in and he was checking out?”
Tru studied the face of a man in his fifties, with graying hair and a receding hairline. His eyes were brown, and his eyebrows needed a trim. His long face was neither attractive nor ugly. He was very nondescript. Nothing clicked, but something definitely nagged. Finally she handed the tablet back. “I don’t think so. He’s not someone I’ve seen since I’ve been here. I think I’ve had a conversation with him, but I don’t remember what, where, or when. Sorry. If I remember where I’ve seen him, I’ll let you know.” She kept notes about most of the interactions she had because she wanted her posts to be accurate. Later tonight, she’d look through her notebook to see if anything jogged her memory.
Agent Kinsley studied her face, his honey-brown eyes searching every inch. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but something in the strength of his expression tapped into her submissive side, and she found herself powerless to move. She wondered if he liked what he saw, or if he was thinking about the brief kiss they’d shared. That kiss was definitely on her mind.
After a long time—too long, considering that Agents Lockmeyer and Forsythe were stuck watching them—Tru finally shifted her gaze. “I need to grab a bite before I head out for my kayaking excursion.”
Agent Kinsley’s face lit. “I’ve always wanted to go kayaking on the ocean. I’ve seen videos of people out there watching harbor seals or exploring caves. It looked so cool.”
His enthusiasm was contagious. Tru smiled. “It’ll be my first time on the ocean, but I’ve kayaked plenty in Lake Michigan. I’d invite you, but it looks like you’re working.”
Agent Lockmeyer jumped in. “We’ve got this covered. Jed, why don’t you go? I’m sure Ms. Martin would love the company.”
He looked at her, a question echoing in his eyes.
Did she want him to tag along? She wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t, so she offered an easy grin. “I’ll call and make the arrangements. Be ready in an hour.”
Chapter Five
Agent Kinsley eyed the kayak doubtfully, and Tru silently echoed the sentiment. When she’d called to make arrangements for him to join the kayaking excursion, she hadn’t envisioned that they’d upgrade (downgrade?) her to a tandem kayak.
“We can do this.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
He scratched just underneath his short sideburn. “You’re sure they don’t have two single kayaks available?”
They did not. She’d already tried to wheel and deal a second kayak into the equation, but they were sold out. “This is the only way we’re both getting out there.”
“I don’t have to go.” He glanced at her. “This was your thing. I didn’t mean to screw it up for you.”
“You didn’t screw it up.” She squeezed his arm, taking the opportunity to feel up his biceps. “It’s an adventure. We’ll figure it out. It can’t be that bad.”
He chuckled as he shook his head. “I’ve heard these referred to as divorce boats.”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re not married. If we go into it with a positive attitude and a sense of humor, we’ll have a great time. Even if we never get anywhere.” She donned her life vest. “Come on, Agent K. You’re up for this challenge.”
“We could get lost at sea.”
“Nah. We’re with a group. The worst thing that could happen is they tie a tow rope to us and we get a free ride back to shore.” She held out the second life jacket. “I promise not to divorce you over this.”
He zipped into his jacket. “In that case, you should probably call me Jed.”
“Jed, do you want to paddle or steer? I’m not bragging, but I kayak all the time. I’m quite good at steering.” She didn’t know his skill level, but she had the sense that he liked to be in control, and not just because he’d mentioned that he liked to use restraints. If she let him have control of the choice, then hopefully he’d make one based on kayaking ability and not hubris. Of course, she’d never steered a double kayak, but how different could it be from canoeing?
He nodded. “Then you should probably be in back. I’ll set the rhythm and supply the muscle. You handle course correction.”
It seemed a lot like sex. She preferred her partner to be in charge, but she wasn’t shy about offering helpful advice like harder, spank me, and pull my hair.
They got in and workers from the company supplying the kayak launched them from the beach. She waited until he started paddling, and she matched his strokes. Steering didn’t prove challenging, and they easily fell in line with the rest of the group. The day was beautiful, bright with just enough cloud cover so that there wasn’t too much glare from the water. The group stayed parallel to the coastline, and they traveled south.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jed.” It was more than a conversation starter. She really wanted to know more about this man who rocked her world with a passive kiss and kept appearing in her visions. They were close enough to have an intimate conversation, but because sound traveled really well over water, it probably wouldn’t be private.
“What do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
“Michigan, same as you, though I live in the Detroit area.”
That meant seeing him would entail a four-hour drive—not that he’d indicated an interest in that direction. “Does your family live nearby?”
“Nope. I grew up in Cincinnati. When I graduated from Quantico, they placed me in the Detroit field office. My family is all down in Cinci.” He peered over his shoulder. “What about you?”
“My grandmother is my only family, and she’s in Northport. That’s my home base. When I’m not traveling, I’m there with her.”
“But you travel a lot?”
“Yeah. You?” The fact that he’d turned the conversation around so that he controlled the questions wasn’t lost on her.
“A bit. More, now that I’m on a task force.” He paused in paddling. “Are those dolphins?”
He pointed toward the horizon, and she squinted to see what had caught his eye. Several other kayakers pointed as well, and it took her a few seconds before she realized what she thought were swells were actually a pod of dolphins racing around. Suddenly one launched into the air. She gasped at the beauty and grace.
“Good eye.” She would have thought their tour guide would be the first to spot anything.
Tom, the tour guide, piped in with words of caution. “Federal law requires that we stay one hundred feet away from marine animals. Stay where you are, and just watch. They often come closer to check us out.”
Several tourists had brought binoculars, and they used those to get a closer look. Tru hadn’t thought to bring a pair, so she enjoyed the sight from a distance. The dolphins raced along, dancing on the waves and jumping into the air, until they vanished from sight. Tru was sorry to see them go and even sorrier that they hadn’t taken an interest in their party.
“If I could come back as anything, it would be a dolphin.” She sighed wistfully. “To be wild and free, part
of a pod society that accepted you for who you are, and still travel with loved ones—that would be the perfect kind of life.”
“Or not.” Jed grinned. “I admire them for the graceful creatures they are and because they can stay awake for five days straight without needing catch-up sleep, but they’re also ruthless hunters and rapists. Males have been known to starve females who won’t have sex with them and marauding groups of teenage males routinely gang rape females.”
This must be a pitfall to hanging out with an officer of the law. Lawyers and social workers were probably just as bad. She glared in return, though her vexation was lost on the back of his head. “I did not need to know that, Jed. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And how do you know it’s not some version of dolphin kink? Some humans enjoy group sex—the kind of ménage where multiple men are focused on one woman, and lots of people like some version of dominance and submission.”
At this, he shook his head. “People enjoy consensual group sex. They like consensual dominance and submission, where negotiation happens, and preferences and limits are agreed upon. When the female dolphin tries to leave, the males get aggressive and start slapping her around. That’s just wrong.”
“It is,” she agreed. “It’s probably too much to expect a wild creature to have human morality, though they seem to have picked up on the horrible side of human behavior. That’s sad. I hope whales are nicer to each other.”
“I haven’t heard anything to the contrary.”
“Okay.” She’d changed her mind about dolphins. Yeah, they were all kinds of cute, but that lost steam in light of recent information. She’d evolved on the issue. “Then I’d come back as a whale and squirt you with my blowhole.”
He turned, twisting his whole body. “Careful, now. It almost sounds like you’re coming on to me.”
She’d meant to joke, not flirt, but she had no problem shifting gears. After all, her brain kept imagining what it would be like to experience the one-sided kiss from two sides. “I hope I have better pickup lines than that. Like—apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living? Or, if being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged. Let’s go with the second one because I bet you have handcuffs stashed somewhere.”
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