by Zoe Dawson
Managing Emma
NCIS Series
Zoe Dawson
Managing Emma (previously published under a pseudonym)
Copyright © 2021 by Karen Alarie
Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, and especially Lisa Fournier. As always, you guys are the best.
The anonymous stars on the wall at the CIA say it all.
Chapter One
Navy Housing Complex
La Mesa, California
The baby-faced teen who walked across the lawn, his sights set on Lily St. John’s door, didn’t look like an assassin.
Until someone looked into his eyes.
He bypassed the front and stole around to the back. A dog barked and he hesitated, then realized it was coming from next door. Not that he couldn’t handle a dog.
His orders were clear and concise.
The dark green landscaper’s shirt was a tad too small. The material stretched taut across his back, roping his biceps just above the distinctive tattoo, the blood staining the back collar barely noticeable. That old man had put up quite a fight, but in the end, the teen knew how to kill fast and efficiently. He needed the uniform so these suburban housewives wouldn’t get too nervous.
He popped the door with ease, pulling the knife at his waist free of the sheath and removing his shoes. The blade glinted in the light from the window behind him as he crept to the bottom of the stairs. A muffled female voice crooned softly as he started up, his steps light.
If she, like the old landscaper dude, was unlucky and saw him coming, that would be too bad for her.
He’d be the last thing she ever saw.
NCIS Headquarters
Camp Pendleton, California
Special Agent Derrick Gunn shut down his computer, the workday at NCIS coming to a close.
“Personally, I think it’s the Lakers. They had Kobe,” Special Agent Amber Michaels said, her honey-blond hair in a ponytail as she walked into the office with Special Agent Austin Beck.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy, girl,” he said, looking over at Derrick. “Tell her, Derrick.” Today Austin’s shaggy, two-toned brown and blond hair was tamed, almost.
“The Bulls,” Derrick said, shrugging into his suit coat. Even after three years here at NCIS, it was still jarring to Derrick that he was part of a team. His time as a CIA operative in a war zone was one of secrecy, lying to just about everyone he knew and screwing over people. That was what Derrick did for a living. Coming from nowhere with no family, he’d found it easy to hide what he did. Keeping things casual with women was a fact of life. He still found it difficult not to keep to himself, even with the cases he’d worked on with both Austin and Amber. Sure they had each other’s backs as far as work was concerned, but Derrick still felt detached. It was his mindset. It was what he had used to survive in a hostile environment for most of his life.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Austin said, reaching his desk and shutting down his computer. He grabbed his hoodie.
Stopping in front of Austin, Derrick fist-bumped him, and both of them turned to find…empty space. Amber was gone and their boss, Supervisory Agent Kai Talbot, a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, with a quick stride and a tough-as-nails disposition, was fast approaching with the look on her face that spelled…overtime.
“We’ve got an injured petty officer in La Mesa Park. At a glance it looks like she fell down the stairs but take a closer look and make sure that’s all that happened. She’s at the base hospital. Check it out. Here’s her address.”
Derrick took the slip of paper Kai offered and turned to look at Austin. “Oh, Amber’s good.”
Austin sighed. “She’s smarter than the two of us put together.”
“Get us talking about basketball, then she hightails it out of here.” Derrick couldn’t help a small smile. Amber was motivated after her marriage to Tristan Michaels; she wanted to be with him as much as possible. He swallowed, suddenly thinking about his past with the opposite sex. Most of the beautiful faces were a blur, except for Afsana, and everything about his love for her had been a disaster. She was an asset and she should have remained that way, but the intensity of the situation, the danger and the work he did, changed their dynamic. For the first time in his life, he’d connected with someone, and he knew it was a doomed relationship from the get-go. The only redeeming quality was that he didn’t have to lie about who he was.
They headed for the elevator. “Well, to be fair, neither of us has someone waiting for us at home. She has a damn good reason.” Austin pushed the button and the door slid open.
Too true. Derrick had no one waiting for him, but he’d been on his own for so long, first as a kid; then living with the man who had adopted him had been almost like living alone. Jerome Thornton III had groomed Derrick to take over his vast fortune. But with no loyalty to a cruel, heartless and exacting miser, the minute the old bastard kicked the bucket, Derrick liquidated everything, giving half to charity and depositing the rest into a bank account. The only thing he’d kept was an island, which suited him fine. It was as isolated as he was. Then he’d joined the CIA. There was something compelling about becoming a spook, a shadow, moving around the globe incognito, which completely appealed to him. He had the skill set from fending for himself in that money-grubber’s house. Hiding from him had become a sick cat-and-mouse game.
Arriving at the hospital, they went up to the ICU floor and stopped at the desk. Flashing his badge, Derrick said, “We’re here about a petty officer”—he looked down at his phone—“St. John.”
The nurse at the desk said, “Yes, she was admitted about thirty minutes ago.”
“What can you tell us about her condition?” Austin asked.
“She’s in a coma. She’s critical—cuts, bruises, broken ribs, broken arm and leg.”
“If her condition changes, could you let us know? We’d like to ask her some questions,” Derrick said. Both Derrick and Austin handed the nurse their cards.
They backed away from the desk, and Austin said, “Think she fell or was she pushed?”
“It’s possible, but I’m not taking anything at face value until we thoroughly investigate.”
“Agreed.” They turned toward the elevator. “How about I drop you at her town house, and I’ll go and talk to the military police who found her?”
“That’s a plan,” Derrick said. Fifteen minutes later Austin
drove away and Derrick walked the perimeter of the town house, but found nothing suspicious. Lily had the end unit of a row of Spanish-inspired homes, pink stucco, painted tile, curves and arches with black ornamental ironwork and terra-cotta roofs. He knocked on the neighbor’s door adjacent to hers, but no one answered. A woman in a white top and jeans came out of the house a door over. “Oh, she’s not home. She’s one of them military lawyers—JAG. Works late.”
Derrick walked off the porch of the neighbor’s town house and approached the woman. He flashed his badge. “Her name?”
She studied the badge and said absently, “Lieutenant Gail Baker.” Then she looked at him. “NCIS?”
“Naval Criminal Investigative Service, ma’am. We’re federal agents,” he said, jotting down the neighbor’s name.
“Criminal? Oh, I saw the ambulance a bit ago. Is Lily all right?” Her face was pinched in the fading light from the setting sun.
“You know her?”
“Just to say hi. She is so sweet, and her little boy, Matthew, is a doll.”
Derrick stiffened. “Her little boy?”
“Yes, he’s just a baby—um, nine months, I think. Is he all right, too?”
“What is your name?”
“Samantha Robbins.”
“Did you see anything suspicious this morning?”
“Oh, heavens no. I sleep in, as I have a late shift at my bartending job. But my husband, Sergeant Rod Robbins, is up at the crack of dawn, and so is Gail.”
He handed her a card. “Have him call me when he gets home. Thank you for your time.” Derrick reached for his phone and headed for Lily St. John’s town house. Once inside, he climbed the stairs two at a time and stopped dead when he hit the first room on the left.
A nursery.
He took in the crib, the changing table, the baby-blue walls and the whimsical animals painted on them. Pain sliced at him, but he dismissed it. This wasn’t about him and the child he’d lost. This was about Lily’s little boy. He called Austin.
“She has a baby,” Derrick said, his gut in knots. “Nine months old.”
“Where the hell is the kid?”
“That’s a damn good question. I’m searching for her phone. Check to see if it was with her personal effects. We need to find out if she’s got relatives, a babysitter, or day care.” He headed for the door. Going to the master bedroom, he noted how the house was very neat and tidy, the bed made. He found the charger on her nightstand, but no phone.
Urgency burning in him, he rushed downstairs into the living room. A female voice ordered, “Hold it right there.”
“I would suggest you stand very still and keep your hands where I can see them,” Emma St. John said, pointing her 9mm directly at the powerful back of the man standing in her sister’s living room. “Slowly turn around and don’t make any sudden moves. I’d really hate to end the day with killing someone. It was going so well. Besides, blood is really hard to get out of the carpet.”
The man did as he was instructed.
Whoa.
Emma straightened, her stomach giving a funny little lurch when she saw him. It took all her professional private investigator willpower not to react to the man’s gorgeous features. He certainly didn’t dress like a thief, but Emma never took any unnecessary chances. That suit was expensive; the tie, too. He looked a bit tired—his eyes gave that away—but other than that, nothing. She absorbed the details she could, her observation skills her biggest asset. But she was frustrated when this man didn’t reveal much.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this man wasn’t it. Big, wide-shouldered, he stood framed in the light from the lamp in the living room. His fingers were long and well-shaped, and there was something almost deceptively casual about his stance, about the way his hands weren’t quite relaxed. Something lethal and a little too careless, as though he had small regard for danger.
Experiencing a strange flutter at the unexpected thought, Emma clenched her palm around the grip of the gun. She was looking for her sister, and she had a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Lily had to work late tonight and Emma had agreed to pick up Matty from day care and watch him until Lily finished her shift. Except, when she’d gone to the base, they’d told her Matty hadn’t been dropped off today, nor had Lily called in to let them know he wouldn’t be there.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her fear for Lily overriding anything else.
“Drop the weapon and kick it over here,” a male voice said from behind her. “I also would prefer not to kill anyone today.”
She complied, the voice of the man who had the drop on her firm and commanding. Feeling as if her heart was going to come right through her chest, she watched the guy in front of her approach, her heartbeat stopping completely when he reached into his suit coat. He was stern and unsmiling as he met her gaze with an unreadable expression, his chiseled features neutral.
A warrior. That was what he was.
A cop, she thought a moment before he pulled out the NCIS badge and showed it to her. Navy cops. What were they doing here? “Oh, God. What happened to Lily?” she asked, dropping her hands and taking a step toward him, her voice compressed.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Emma St. John, Lily’s sister.”
The man who had been holding the gun on her came around to face her, and he was very different. Much more casually dressed in chocolate pants, a baby-blue polo and deck shoes, his hair a mixture of blond and brown—very California beach boy. He flashed his badge. “I’m Special Agent Austin Beck, and this is Special Agent Derrick Gunn.”
She took another step as the men exchanged glances, and her stomach plummeted. “Why are you here? What happened to my sister?”
“She was found at the bottom of the stairs hours ago. She’s at the base hospital. It appears she fell.”
“I’ve got to go.”
A strong hand gripped her wrist, and something wrenched loose when she met Agent Gunn’s flat, unreadable gaze. Grasping her shoulder, he drew her over to the sofa and guided her down to the cushions, his tone firm when he said, “I know this is terrible news, and you want to be with your sister, but we need to ask you some questions. Where is your nephew?”
Cold to the bone and scared to death, she sank into the sofa, the solid pressure of his hand on her shoulder strangely reinforcing. She stared at him, her heart hammering in her throat; then she drew a deep, stabilizing breath. “Oh, man, that’s why I’m here,” she said, brushing at her hair. She was trying to recover, to catch her balance. She clasped her hands between her thighs, aware of the panic rising and trying to remain calm. Getting hysterical wasn’t going to help the matter. She needed to think like a PI, not a panicked family member. “I—” She paused and took another deep, shaky breath, then said, her voice still unsteady, “I was supposed to pick Matty…Matthew, up from day care.”
“Do you normally pick up your nephew?” Austin asked.
“No, Lily had to work late today, and I was going to watch him.” Fear twisted up her stomach. “I knew something was wrong,” she said as her voice dropped into a distressed murmur. Agent Beck turned away and pulled out his cell. Dialing, he started to talk. He was speaking to someone about notifying NCMEC. Emma didn’t know what NCMEC stood for, but before she could say anything, Agent Beck stopped talking and asked for a description of Matthew.
“What is this for?” she asked.
“National Center for Missing and Exploited Children,” he replied.
Emma pulled up her phone and navigated to a recent picture of him, sending it to his phone when he requested it. Then he was focusing again on his conversation.
“Ms. St. John—”
“Emma is fine,” she said, absently caught up once again in her shock. This couldn’t be happening. She was supposed to watch out for her baby sister. But they’d had an argument and Lily was being stubborn. She was still absorbing this information. Matty gone? Lily hurt.
�
��How bad is she?”
Their argument had been intense, but Emma was always there for Lily, and she knew that. Their conversation had been strained, but for the sake of Lily’s job and Matty’s care, they had both agreed they would talk again with more level heads. Work things out.
“Critical. She’s in a coma. I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this, but we’re here to help.” Concern showed in his unique, deep blue eyes. “Where is the boy’s day care?”
“On base—Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, NAB.” She took a fortifying breath. “They told me Lily hadn’t dropped him off. At first I thought maybe Lily or Matty was sick, and she forgot to call me. She can be flighty, but she’s been so responsible since she joined the Navy and became a mother—much more responsible.”
“I need you to confirm his age for me,” Austin said as he stopped talking into the cell, waiting for Emma’s response.
“Nine months,” she said, her voice catching. “I tried to call Lily several times, but there was no answer, so I came over to make sure everything was all right. What is going on? What happened to my sister? Where is Matty?”
She knew her shell-shocked tone was edged with anger. She wanted answers—had to have answers. Lily was the only person she had left from their family. Their grandmother didn’t count.
“I understand the need for answers, and I understand your anger even if I don’t completely know what you’re going through,” he said, his voice now warm and soothing. “We don’t know at this point, but we’re going to do everything in our power to find who did this and find out what happened to your sister.”
