by Jen Talty
“I’ll pick you up here at eleven for lunch?”
“Sure.”
“Pack a bathing suit.”
“For lunch?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he cupped her face, lowering his mouth to hers, but once again, his lips landed on her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Leaning against the door, she watched him as he took the steps down the porch then headed back the way they had come. “You’re not driving, are you?” she yelled.
“Nope. I rent the apartment over the Boardwalk.”
“Be safe.”
He turned. “You never told me your last name.”
“Mervis. Delaney Mervis.”
“That’s a nice Irish-Jewish name.”
She laughed. “Good night.” Quickly, she unlocked the door, and once inside, she tapped her phone, looking at the texts. All from the man with the Gray Eyes.
The clock is ticking. Report in.
I’m waiting.
If I don’t hear from you tonight, your brother will pay.
She fumbled with the phone, her fingers constantly tapping the wrong letter as she tried to text back.
Found Burdett and made contact. Meeting again tomorrow.
She stared at the phone. The little caption bubble danced while Gray Eyes typed his response.
Why didn’t you seduce him? The sooner I get that tape, the sooner this is over for your brother.
She wanted to ask him how on earth a sex tape was going to ruin Josh. As a woman, it would affect her more, but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to know any more about Gray Eyes’ plans. All she wanted was to make sure her brother wasn’t murdered.
Josh had never stopped looking over his shoulder, knowing Alexander Craypo would deliver on his threats, even if he’d said he was a changed man during a press conference on the day of his release from jail.
Men like Craypo didn’t change. Not when everything they held dear blew up before their eyes.
The secure, fireproof lock box in the closet of Josh’s apartment hadn’t been opened in over six months. Pulling it out felt like a step back into the past. Even touching it brought back the crushing chest pain of the five bullets that had ripped through his body. He steadied his hand as he inserted the key. Rubbing his fingers across his chest, fingering each scar through his thin T-shirt, he turned the key, clicking open the box.
Pictures, articles, and his medal taunted him.
He traced his fingers across the emerald, upside-down, five-pointed star given by the President of the United States for extraordinary valor above and beyond the call of duty.
Public Safety Officer Medal of Valor.
Shaking the President’s hand had been a humbling experience, but Josh didn’t deserve the honor. He’d failed his uncover assignment, and while he may have saved lives, two innocent children were dead, and he was partly responsible.
Craypo only got a slap on the hand and a very short sentence. All of Josh’s hard work, the months of gathering evidence of Craypo’s arms operation, was for nothing the moment Josh blew his cover to save a building full of innocent people.
A picture of Nicki Craypo and her boys, Tyler and Ray, lay under the medal. Josh traced the faces of both boys, four and two, tears welled in his eyes.
He picked up the article regarding Craypo’s arrest for colluding and the subsequent plea deal that landed him in jail for almost a year, which had ended a month ago. Josh was surprised it took Craypo this long to find him…if what he suspected about his new hot female friend was true. Sure, many people from downstate came here for vacation, but not one of them had ever hit on him while reading a book in a bar.
His old superior officer had informed him of Craypo’s release and subsequent reports on his whereabouts. Offers of new transfers, even out-of-state opportunities, continued to come in from his past boss. While he appreciated the sentiment, he liked his current post, and he wasn’t about to run scared because a scumbag like Craypo had been released.
The doorbell rang. He hustled to put the contents away, then shoved the box back in the closet before making his way to the front door.
“Thanks for coming.” He pushed back the door to his apartment above the Boardwalk, letting the music filter in until the door clicked shut.
“The sedan you asked me to check on is still parked in the lot across the street.” Tristan Reid made himself at home by taking the three steps from the small foyer into the kitchen then pulling out a beer from the fridge before settling down on a stool in front of the breakfast bar. “I’m always amazed by how quiet it is up here when it is so damn loud down there.” Tristan was close in age, and was the only other Trooper Josh knew in the office who wasn’t married.
“Soundproofing,” Josh said. “Otherwise, no way in hell could I live here.” He chugged his water, still feeling the effects of drinking more alcohol than he should have less than an hour ago. “Mind doing a background check for me?”
“You could do it yourself,” Tristan said. “But I suspect it’s not appropriate use of the department resources?”
“Nope, and I’d understand if you said no.”
“I’ll do it,” Tristan said. “Who?”
“Delaney Mervis.” Josh recalled the two times he’d seen Delaney before spotting her at the Boardwalk. The first time had been at the bank. She’d been sitting in her car, her blond hair flowing over her shoulders. Her soft features showed her natural beauty. She wasn’t the kind of woman men gawked at, but she had a subtle beauty with her full, wavy hair, slender build, and thick, natural lashes. When she blinked, the anticipation of seeing the crystal-clear blue of her eyes was so intense and erotic it could bring a man to his knees.
It surprised him that she’d pulled out into traffic three cars behind him, but it didn’t seem suspicious until he saw her four hours later, from his bedroom window, while she sat across the street on a bench…reading. As soon as he entered the Boardwalk, she was five paces behind him, asking to sit outside, and even asking the hostess if she could sit at a different table than she’d originally been shown, putting her directly in his line of vision. Even then, he didn’t think too much of it until she mentioned where she lived.
“Do you know anything else about her?”
“She lived in Brooklyn before moving to Fishkill. Went to Colombia and lives near the University now. She’s a copy editor by trade and writes novels as a hobby, not published, yet. One brother. I didn’t get his name. That’s all I know.” Josh stood in front of the big picture window overlooking the lake. Specifically, the dock where he and Delaney, just an hour ago, had been lying on their backs looking up at the stars, sharing a romantic moment. He still felt the silky softness of her skin. Had she not flirted with him from a distance and intrigued him, he would never have thought about approaching her, since he couldn’t bring himself to date, much less have a meaningless fling.
“I’ll see what I can dig up,” Tristan said.
“I’m having lunch with her tomorrow, so be discreet when texting me any information.”
“Do you always screen your dates?” Tristan swiveled back and forth in the bar stool.
Josh glared at his friend. “Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”
“I’m not you, so I have no idea. Any news about Craypo and his goons?”
Josh shook his head, standing in front of the one-way-glass picture window. It could stop people from looking in, but couldn’t prevent a bullet from shattering it. “He hasn’t left Manhattan. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t sent someone—”
“You really think this chick is working for him?”
“I hope not,” Josh said, “but I find it weird that less than a month after his release, a girl from downstate hits on me. Let’s me take her down to the docks—”
“That doesn’t work on the girls from around here.”
Josh sat back on the sofa, still peering out the window at the dark lake. “Then she let me walk her home, but didn’t invite me up, though she hinted at it,
and now I’m taking her out for lunch. Don’t you find that odd?”
Tristan laughed. “What’s odd is that you’re thinking twice about it.”
“A woman from New York who I know nothing about is worthy of having a second thought.” Not to mention her intention might not be hooking up, but putting a bullet in his head, just like the last woman he’d gotten involved with.
“If there is something to find out, I’ll unearth it, but no one would think less of you if you up and disappeared, and I know you were given that choice.”
“I’m not running.”
“I don’t know, man. If I were in your shoes, I’d run. The guy blames you for the death of his wife and kids.”
“It was his own bomb that killed his family.” But Josh might as well have set the bomb off. He was the reason they were dead. He shouldn’t care about Nicki, because she wouldn’t have cared if he were dead. But her two little boys watched with horror-filled eyes as their mother fired at the man who’d promised to pull them from the grips of a crime-filled existence. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing the memory to fade to black. “Find out what you can on Delaney. If she’s with Craypo, then we can deal with that. If she’s not associated, then I can just cut her loose.” No way would he get involved with someone he could actually fall for, giving Craypo another way to make Josh pay for what he’d done.
“If it's the latter, and she’s that hot, mind if I take her out and show her a go—”
“I mind,” Josh said sharply.
Tristan shot his arms out to the sides. “Geez. Possessive over a girl you don’t even want.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want her. But, she’s only here for a short time and—”
“That’s the point,” Tristan said. “A hook-up. Just sex.”
“Right, because you have such a way with women. You get knocked down before you even get warmed up.”
“So, you shouldn’t mind if I give it a go.”
Josh narrowed his gaze. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll have to mess up that pretty face of yours.”
Tristan laughed. “I think you like her.”
“I think this conversation is over, so finish your beer so I can get some sleep.”
2
The hot, humid air smacked Delaney’s skin as she walked out of the comfort of the perfectly air-conditioned hotel. She’d never been one for being outside when it was over eighty, and today, with the humidity, it felt like ninety. Perspiration beaded across her hairline, forcing her to pull her hair into a ponytail. So much for spending time styling it.
She plopped herself on the porch steps, wondering if he’d think she were desperate for this date, waiting for him like this. Her heart raced when she glanced at her phone.
The sooner you get him in your bed and get the pictures for proof, the sooner this will be over… The sooner your brother will be released…
She blinked, staring at the text, heat rising from her toes to the pit of her gut. She hadn’t thought about the consequences of sleeping with a stranger when Gray Eyes had shown up at her doorstep with images and a video of her brother, tied up, beaten, and begging for her to do whatever was demanded of her.
If you keep texting me, and he sees this, then I won’t be able to seduce him. I’ll get you the pictures in the next 48 hours.
She paused, wondering if she was arrogant enough to think Josh was that interested. Her fingers hovered over her phone. She added:
I want to speak to my brother.
Then she hit send.
A few cars whizzed by, but so far, no sign of Josh, and it was five minutes after eleven.
Your brother is fine…for now. You can talk to him after I have the proof.
“Hello, Delaney,” a smooth, sultry voice said.
She looked toward the lake and dropped her phone, seeing Josh on the bottom step of the Inn’s porch in a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top, his well-defined, tanned shoulders soaked in the sun rays. “Where did you come from?”
He bent over, snagging her cell phone from the ground, handing it to her, thankfully facedown.
“The docks,” he said. “Ready?”
“Where are we going?” The moment she took the hand he offered, heat from his warm and tender touch hit all the important parts of her body.
He lifted her beach bag in his other hand, then tugged her toward the waterfront. “Bathing suit in here?”
“Yes.” She’d never been one to appreciate surprises. They only added a level of anxiety that she preferred not to have in her life, especially with men. But right now, excitement replaced her apprehension, and that confused her because what she was going to do to Josh shouldn’t excite her on any level. “Why are we going this way?”
“I came by boat,” he said. “You don’t have any place to be today, do you?”
“Well, no.”
“Good.”
With her fingers laced in his strong hand, they walked in silence to the waterfront of The Heritage Inn. As she stepped on the dock, a group of teenagers laughed and splashed each other while sitting on various floating devices. Boats raced by, sending waves rolling into the swimming area created by two large boathouses with a rope between them.
“A girl could get used to this,” she said.
“The view? Or being swept off her feet for a picnic on the lake?”
“Both.”
“This is me.” He stopped in front of a sleek red-and-white boat. She didn’t know much about watercrafts in general, but she did know this was called a bow-rider because of the seats in the front. The back—or stern—had a large cushion that she figured was meant for sunning, big enough for two, a thought that sent the butterflies in her stomach roaring in flight.
“Watch your step.”
The boat rocked as she climbed in. “Where should I sit?”
“Right there.” He pointed to the bucket seat next to the driver’s console.
“This is nice.” If this were a real date, she’d be impressed, enjoying herself. Instead, nerves fluttered in the pit of her stomach and fear flooded her thoughts, stifling any budding romance.
“This was my splurge,” he said. “I should have bought a new car, since mine has close to a hundred and fifty thousand miles, but I couldn’t resist. Pointless to live on the lake and not have a boat.”
“Do you get out much on the lake?”
She watched his biceps tighten as he untied the ropes holding the boat to the dock. The sudden tingle and tightening of her nipples warmed her cheeks.
He smiled when he sat down, fiddling with the throttle and key before the engine roared to life. “Almost every day, but some of that time is working Lake George Patrol.”
“What’s that?”
He glanced toward her, lowering his sunglasses, his green eyes peering over the rims. “Troopers patrol the lake.”
“Oh.” She’d been so busy watching him, enjoying his tanned muscles, that she’d hadn’t really been listening. She’d seen various police boats on the Hudson in the city, so it made perfect sense they would be here, too. The boat hit a wave, sending her butt right out of her seat. She gripped the dashboard. “How fast are we going?”
“Maybe thirty miles an hour.” He laughed. “If you anticipate the waves and move your body with them, it won’t be so hard on your ass.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do you have sunscreen on?”
The man was a regular boy scout. “I do. And I brought more.” She kept her focus on the waves, which did nothing to help the heat rippling across her skin that wasn’t being generated by the sun. “When you mentioned a bathing suit, I figured sunscreen would be a logical accessory.”
“That’s my girl,” he said.
In another time and place, she wouldn’t mind being his girl, but right now, she needed to get her shit together and get the job done. She concentrated on the boats whizzing by in all directions, creating clashing groups of waves over the surface of the water.
&nbs
p; She noticed Josh did his best to make the impact of the waves less harsh by the way he maneuvered the boat.
“Hey! That’s a Lake George Patrol Boat.” She pointed, then waved at the watercraft that looked more like a fishing boat than a police boat. “Is that what you drive on patrol?”
“It is,” he said as he waved, slowing the boat. “That’s my buddy Tristan.”
“Hey, Josh,” Tristan called as the patrol boat floated just a few feet away. “Busy out there today.”
“When is your shift done?” Josh asked.
“Couple hours. Then I’ve got a hot date with that new waitress, Viv.”
“She’s way out of your league,” Josh said.
“I could say the same thing about you right now.” Tristan tipped his hat toward Delaney. She smiled sweetly, but her heart beat frantically. “Weren’t you at the Boardwalk last night?”
“I was,” she said.
“Nice to meet you,” Tristan said. “I best be going. I’ve got a few things to check on.”
“Thanks, man,” Josh said.
The front of the boat rose out of the water, gaining speed. She grabbed the sides of her seat, holding on, trying to calm her nerves and her hormones.
She decided small talk might help. “Don’t you get hot in that uniform out here?”
“Not as hot as the woman sitting next to me.” He flashed a grin.
“You’ve very good with the quick lines,” she said. He could string words together that had no meaning, and it would be better than any original ‘sexy line’ any man could come up with.
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
The sun beat down, casting a white stream across the crystal-blue water. She’d read about how beautiful Lake George was, but being here, seeing the mountains in the background, smelling the fresh water mixed with humid air, put all those descriptions to shame.
