Get Lucky

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She started hopping back over the rocks, and Lucky couldn’t resist. He scooped her up and carried her the few feet to the soft sand. Problem was, once he had her in his arms, he didn’t want to put her down. Especially when she looked up at him with such surprised laughter in her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Actually, my feet thank you.”

  She squirmed, and he released her, and then it was his turn to be surprised when she threw her arms around his neck and gave him an exuberant hug.

  “Oh, baby, this is it,” she said. “This is the connection! It’s going to help us identify and protect the women this guy is targeting.”

  Lucky closed his eyes as he held her tightly, breathing in the sweet scent of her sunblock.

  She pulled free far too soon. “Hurry,” she said again, pushing him in the direction of the administration building.

  Lucky went, breaking into an obedient trot, even though he was far from convinced they’d find anything new. He hoped with all of his heart that Syd wouldn’t be too disappointed.

  Of course, if she was, he could always comfort her. He was good at providing comfort—particularly the kind that slid neatly into seduction.

  God, what was he thinking? This was Syd.

  Syd—who’d kissed him as if the world were coming to an end. Syd—whose body had felt so tempting beneath his just this morning. Syd—whose lit-up windows he’d stared at for nearly an hour last night, dying to ring her bell for more reasons than simply to make sure she was safe.

  Okay. True confession time. Yes, it was Syd, and yes, he wanted to seduce her. But he liked her. A lot. Too much to trade in their solid friendship for his typical two-week, molten-lava, short-term fling.

  He wasn’t going to do it.

  He was going to stay away from her, keep it platonic.

  Yeah. Right.

  Chapter 8

  “Another former boyfriend and a father who’s since died,” Luke said to Syd as she hurried into the office.

  She stopped short. “Oh, my God, I’m right?”

  “You’re amazingly, perfectly, brilliantly right.” He grabbed her and danced her around the room.

  It was a lot like this morning in Lana Quinn’s waiting room. One minute she was standing there and the next she was in motion. She clung to him for dear life as he spun her around and around.

  “Finally,” he said, “something that we might be able to go on.”

  She looked up at him breathlessly. “Only might?”

  “I’m trying to be restrained.” He narrowly avoided a head-on collision with a file cabinet.

  She had to laugh at that. “This is you, restrained?”

  Luke laughed, too, as he finally slowed to a stop, as he once more let her feet touch the ground. “This is me, extremely restrained.”

  He was still holding her as tightly as she was holding him, and suddenly, as he gazed into her eyes, he wasn’t laughing anymore.

  She was pressed against him from her shoulders to her thighs and the fit felt impossibly good. He was warm and solid and he smelled good, too.

  He was looking down at her, her face tipped up to his, his mouth mere inches from hers, and for several long, heart-stopping moments, Syd was certain that he was going to kiss her.

  Like the last time he’d kissed her, she saw it coming, but this go-round seemed so much more unrehearsed. The shift of emotions and the heightened awareness in his eyes couldn’t possibly be an act, could it? Or the way his gaze dropped for just an instant to her lips, the way his own lips parted just a tiny bit, the tip of his tongue wetting them slightly in an unconscious move.

  But then, instead of planting a big knee-weakening one on her, he released her. He let her go and even stepped back.

  Whoa, what just happened here?

  Luke grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the main computer. “Check this out. Show her the thing,” he commanded the SEAL candidates.

  Thomas was at the keyboard with Rio hovering over his shoulder, and they both moved slightly to the side so that Syd could see the screen. As if her eyes could focus on the screen.

  She still felt completely disoriented. Luke hadn’t kissed her. Of course, this was an office in a building on a U.S. naval base, she told herself, and he was the team’s commanding officer. This was the U.S. Navy and there were probably rules about kissing.

  Restrained, he’d said, indeed. Syd had to smile. Funny, she wouldn’t have thought he’d have had it in him.

  Thomas was talking to her, explaining what they’d done on the computer. “We pulled up the personnel files of all twelve of the servicemen and women—living and dead, active duty and retired—who’re connected to the victims.”

  “All twelve,” Rio chimed in, “were stationed here in Coronado during the same eight-week period in 1996.”

  Eight weeks, four years ago. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Syd leaned closer to look at the numbers on the screen for herself.

  “According to the information we’ve been given directly from the women who were attacked, the servicemen and woman also all knew their corresponding victim during that time,” Thomas pointed out.

  “We’ve pulled a complete list of personnel who were here during that eight-week period,” Luke said handing her a thick tome that was stapled together with what looked like a railroad spike. “Even if they were only here for a day during that time, their name’s on this list. Mike’s out delivering a copy to Lucy McCoy. She’s going to run these names through the police computer, see if anyone left the service and ended up with a police record—particularly one that includes charges of sexual assault.”

  “We already have ten good candidates,” Bobby added. “Ten of the men on that list were given dishonorable discharges either at that time or later in their careers.”

  “Basically, that means they were kicked out of the Navy,” Luke explained.

  Syd was overwhelmed. “I can’t believe you did all this so quickly—that you actually managed to figure out the connection.”

  “You figured out the connection,” Luke told her. “We just filled in the blanks.”

  She looked down at the enormous list of names she still held in her hands. “So now what do we do? Contact all these men and women and warn them that they or someone they love—or used to love—is in danger of being attacked?”

  “Only a percentage of those men and women are still living in this area,” Bobby said.

  “A percentage of a billion is still a huge number,” Syd countered.

  “There’s not a billion names on that list,” Luke told her.

  She hefted the list. “It feels as if there is.”

  “Most of Alpha Squad’s in there,” Bobby told her. “The squad came to Coronado for a training op, I remember, and ended up pulling extra duty as BUD/S instructors. There was this one class, where the dropout rate was close to zero. I think three guys rang out, total. It was the most amazing thing, but as they went into Hell Week, we were completely understaffed.”

  “I remember that,” Luke said. “Most of us had done a rotation assisting the instructors, so we ended up shanghaied into helping take these guys through their paces.”

  “Most of Alpha Squad,” Syd echoed, realizing just what that meant. Anyone female and connected to anyone on this list was a potential target for attack. She looked at Luke. “Have you called—”

  “Already done,” he said, anticipating her question. “I’ve talked to all the guys’ wives except Ronnie Catalanotto, and I left a pretty detailed message on her machine and told her to call me on my cell phone ASAP.”

  “You know, Lieutenant Lucky, sir,” Rio said, “one way to catch this guy might be to set Syd here up as bait, make it look like she’s your girlfriend and—”

  “Uh-uh,” Luke said. “No way.”

  Well, wasn’t he vehemently opposed to that?

  “I’m not talking about sending her out into the bad part of San Felipe in the middle of the night,” Rio persisted. “In fact, s
he’ll be safer than she is right now, considering we’ll be watching her whenever she’s alone.”

  “She lives on the third floor of a house in a neighborhood that’s more concrete and asphalt than landscaping,” Luke argued. “How are you going to watch her? Unless you’re hiding someplace in her apartment—”

  “We can plant microphones,” Thomas suggested. “Set up a surveillance system, have a van down on the street.”

  “We can bring the skel’s attention to you, too.” Rio was really excited about this. Syd could tell he’d watched too many episodes of “NYPD Blue.” Skel. Oh, brother. “You could go on TV, do an interview, insult him in some way. Claim that there’s no way in hell he could be a SEAL. Obviously he’s trying to make somebody believe he’s one—maybe he’s trying to make himself believe it. Throw some reality into his face. Tick him off, then appear in public with Syd, do some kissy-face stuff and—”

  “No. This is crazy.”

  Syd sat down at the conference table, trying to look unaffected and even slightly bored, as if she hadn’t just realized that she’d completely misinterpreted that almost-kiss that she and Luke hadn’t shared not quite five minutes ago. He’d spun her around, and she’d latched onto him. He hadn’t looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her. No, she’d probably been looking at him that way. And he’d stopped laughing because he felt awkward. He wasn’t being restrained because they were at his place of work. He simply wasn’t interested.

  How could she have thought he’d be even remotely interested in her?

  Bobby cleared his throat. “You know, this could work.”

  “Yeah, but think of his reputation,” Syd said dryly, “if he were seen in public with me.”

  Luke turned to look at her, the expression on his face unreadable. “You actually want to do this?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “Are you completely insane? Your job is research, remember? We had an agreement. You’re supposed to be the one in the surveillance van, not the one used as bait. Bait. Dear Lord, save me from a conspiracy of fools!”

  “Hey, what happened to brilliant?” Syd asked sharply.

  He glared at her. “You tell me! You’re the one who’s lost your mind!”

  “Maybe we could get Detective McCoy to pretend she’s your girlfriend,” Thomas volunteered.

  “Oh, that would work,” Syd rolled her eyes. “Clearly this guy pays attention to details. You don’t think he’d notice that Luke sends out this ‘come and get me and mine’ message, and then starts getting chummy with the wife of one of his best friends? Oh, and she’s a police detective, too. Anyone notice that not-too-fresh smell? Could that possibly be the stench of a setup?”

  “Do you have any idea at all how much damage this dirtwad could do to you in the amount of time it would take the fastest SEAL team in the world to get from a van on the street to your third-floor apartment?” Luke asked hotly. “Do you know that this son of a bitch broke Mary Beth Hollis’s cheekbone with his first punch? Do you really want to find out what that feels like? My God, Sydney! Think about that, will you please?”

  “So maybe the setup should be at your house,” she countered. “We can make like I move in with you, and set up a pattern where you come home extremely late—where there’s a repeated block of time when I’m there alone. The team can hide in your backyard. Shoot, they can hide in your basement.”

  “No, they can’t. I don’t have a basement.”

  She nearly growled at him in exasperation. “Luke, think about this! If we can guarantee that the team will be close, then, yes, yes, I’m willing to do this to catch this guy. I really, really want to catch this guy. As far as I can see, the only real objection is that you and I will have to spend more time together, that we’ll have to put on a show of a relationship in public. But, shoot, I can stomach that for the greater good of mankind, if you can.”

  Luke laughed in disbelief. If she didn’t know better, she’d think his feelings were hurt. “Well, gee, that’s big of you.”

  Syd stood there, staring at him, both wanting him to give in, and praying that he’d refuse. God, how on earth was she going to play boyfriend-girlfriend with this impossible, incredible man for any length of time? How was she going to share a house with him? If she were a gambler, she’d bet big money that she’d end up in his bed within a day or two. No, make that an hour or two. It was a sure thing—except for one little important detail. He didn’t want her in his bed.

  “I think this could really work,” Bobby said, his calm voice breaking the charged silence.

  “I do, too,” Mike said, speaking up for the first time. “I think we should do it.”

  Luke said something completely, foully unrepeatable—something having to do with barnyard animals, something that implied that he was out of his mind, then stomped out of the room.

  Bobby smiled at Syd’s confused expression. “That was a green light,” he interpreted. “A go-ahead. Why don’t you use those media contacts you have and set up whatever kind of interview for the lieutenant that you can? TV’s best, of course. Oh, and Syd—let’s keep this to ourselves. The fewer people who know this relationship between you and Luke isn’t real, the better.”

  Syd rolled her eyes. “Anyone who knows him will take one look at me and realize something’s up.”

  “Anyone who knows him,” Bobby said, “will take one look at you, and think he’s finally found someone worthy of his time.”

  Lucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this nervous because of a woman.

  He had to park his truck three houses down from the Catalanottos’. Veronica’s “little” cookout had turned into a full-blown party, judging from all the cars and trucks parked on the street. Bobby’s truck and Wes’s bike were there. PJ Becker’s lime-green Volkswagen bug. Frisco’s Jeep. Lucy McCoy’s unassuming little subcompact.

  “We’ll just stop in so I can talk Veronica into leaving town for a week or so,” he told Syd as they walked down the driveway toward the little house. “We can use this party as a dress rehearsal for when we go into town later. If we can fool this group of people into thinking we’re together, we can fool anyone.”

  Syd looked over at him, one perfect eyebrow slightly raised. “Do you really think we can fool them? We don’t look like we’re together.”

  She was right. In fact, they looked about as un-together as a man and woman could. “What do you think I…? Should I put my arm around your shoulders?”

  Yeesh, he hadn’t sounded this stupidly uncertain since that eighth-grade dance he’d been invited to as a sixth-grader.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Would you put your arm around my shoulders if we really were together?”

  “I’d…” He put his arm around her waist, tucking her body perfectly alongside his. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but his hand slipped up beneath the edge of her T-shirt and his fingers encountered satiny smooth skin.

  Uh-oh.

  He braced himself, waiting for her to hit him, or at least to pull away and assault him with a severe scolding. But she didn’t. In fact, she slipped her arm around him, tucking her own hand neatly into the back pocket of his shorts, nearly sending him into outer space.

  Lucky had to clear his throat before he could speak. “You think this is okay?” With his hand where it was against her bare skin, it was far more intimate and possessive than an arm thrown around her shoulders.

  Syd cleared her throat, too. Hah, she wasn’t as matter-of-fact as she was pretending to be.

  “God, this is weird.” She lifted her head to look up at him. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you as nervous about this as I am?”

  “Yes,” Lucky said, glad to be able to admit it.

  “If you have to kiss me,” Syd told him, “try not to kiss me on the mouth, okay?”

  Have to?

  “Oh,” he said, “well, sure. I mean, that’s good. You tell me what you don’t want me to do and I’ll make sure I don’
t cross those boundaries—”

  “No!” She sounded completely flustered. “It’s not about boundaries. It’s just…I had about a ton of garlic on my pizza for lunch yesterday, and I still have Dominic’s Italian Café-breath. I just…I didn’t want to gross you out.”

  Lucky laughed—it was such a lame excuse. “There’s no way you could still have garlic-breath more than twenty-four hours later.”

  “You’ve obviously never had one of Dominic’s deluxe garlic pizzas.”

  “Look, Syd.” He stopped about ten feet from the Catalanottos’ front steps, pulling her to face him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to make up reasons why I shouldn’t kiss you.”

  “I’m not making up reasons,” she insisted.

  “So then, if I don’t mind about the alleged garlic-breath, you don’t mind if I kiss you?”

  The early evening shadows played artfully across Syd’s face as she laughed. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  And standing there, looking down at her, with his arm still around her waist, Lucky wanted to kiss her about as badly as he’d ever wanted to kiss anyone.

  And damn it, as long as they were playing this pretend girlfriend game, he might as well take advantage of the fact that it would only help their cover if he did kiss her.

  But how the hell did one go about kissing a friend? He knew all there was to know about how to kiss a stranger, but this was different. This was far more dangerous.

  And suddenly he knew exactly what to do, what to say.

  “You’ve got me dying to find out if you really do taste like garlic,” he said.

  “Oh, believe me, I do.”

  “Do you mind…?” He tipped her chin up to his. “For the sake of scientific experimentation…?”

  She laughed. That was when he knew he had her. That was when he knew he could kiss her without having her get all ticked off at him. She might pull away really fast, but she wasn’t going to hit him.

  So he lowered his head those extra inches and covered her mouth with his.

  And, oh, my. Just like when he’d kissed her on that deck just off his kitchen, she turned to fire in his arms. Just like when he’d kissed her on his deck, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, kissing him just as hungrily as he kissed her.