by Zoe Dawson
“It’s tough,” she said noncommittally, not allowing herself to even bend that much.
“Not to get you all riled up again, but have you handled many murder investigations?” He tilted his head and his unruly hair tumbled down over his forehead. He shoved it back carelessly. “Not sure about the stats, is all.”
She stiffened, taking a steadying breath. The fact was that she’d handled all of two murder cases and one turned out to be suicide, which she’d proved. She’d spent the past eighteen months on a drug-smuggling task force with the DEA.
“I may not have handled as many murders as you have, but I do have experience,” she said.
He nodded. “I’m not here to challenge you, Agent Cooper. It’s all about those dead men. We are all that stands between them and justice. I’m just taking notes for now.”
“Got it,” she said. “It’s been…a tough day, and I don’t envision it getting any easier. No offense.”
“None taken,” he said, pulling on the latex gloves she offered him. Walking over to the captain’s chair, he searched around it, and then moved to the console. “How many crew members were found in here?”
“Three. That’s less than the bare minimum required to pilot the ship.” She watched him, finding it difficult not to. The way he moved with such grace was a pleasure to look at.
“Agent Jerrott,” she said with curiosity, blatantly ignoring the weird rhythm her pulse had taken up. “You said pretty much what I thought out on the deck about those dead men. They were posing and I agree. It must have something to do with evading us. We fiercely guard this coast. We just broke up a huge drug-smuggling operation with a tanker and go-fast boats using the bay to transport drugs into this area, then move them up and down the East Coast on land.”
He nodded. “I haven’t dealt with drug smuggling. It’s been mostly murder and high-profile cases. We prevented a security breach with one of our Navy scientists just recently—a kidnapping.” His eyes traveled over her and she got the distinct impression that he got momentarily distracted. His eyes were frank and appreciating. This was not good. She had no intention of making the same blunder again.
“Sounds like you’re the best person for this detail if drugs are involved,” he said.
She didn’t know what to say to that. As a way to get her to lower her defenses, that was a good move and very effective. He was charming, that much was clear.
His attention was diverted from her to the deck. He crouched down and examined an area near the back of the bridge. “Bring an evidence bag over here,” he said, reaching out to her as she moved closer to him.
A bit peeved by his request for her to be a fetch-and-carry, she asked, “What did you find?” She was still feeling the effects of his words and not trusting herself. She’d trusted once before and had gotten terribly burned.
He brushed something into the bag and rose. Standing this close, looking into his eyes, she saw no sign of manipulation, no wavering. He was either very, very good at it or he was being sincere.
His eyes sparkled with the discovery. He seemed to love this as much as she did. The puzzle, the mystery, the unraveling of threats to the US. “A white powder. Could be cocaine or heroin.”
She took the bag out of his hand. “I’d rather not jump to conclusions. Guessing gives me hives.”
He chuckled. “Ah, methodical, huh? I personally detest red tape.”
Kinley narrowed her eyes. “Not very PC of you.”
He smiled and, again, got much too close for her comfort. “I don’t exactly worry my pretty head over being PC,” he said, bending a little closer, holding her gaze with his. His eyes followed the path of a curl as it escaped her tight, pulled-back hair.
His voice was low and smoky, Cajun-spiced and as tempting as sin itself. Kinley felt that voice, like his smile, had the power to touch her. It trailed down the side of her neck and caressed like a fingertip down the length of her arm. She stiffened against the urge to shiver. The man was an absolute seducer. She had no business reacting to him on such a…a…carnal level. She was a self-respecting, self-sufficient woman who expected—no, demanded—to be treated in a manner that didn’t involve hormones.
She was on the job, for God’s sake.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath to steady herself, she raised her chin and said, “You cut corners?” She shook her head. Her middle name was control. “I prefer to adhere to the rules. It’s better that way.” Dammit, she sounded so defensive. But look what had happened when she’d let her guard down once. Just once.
He laughed. The sound was as captivating as his voice.
“There’s nothing wrong with following the rules…” He shot her a look as he moved to the far end of the bridge, his eyes trailing along the console. “Up until the point it becomes necessary to break them, no?”
“In my experience, that leads to nothing good.” Kinley searched around at the rear of the bridge.
He continued to search and didn’t respond to her. “There’s something behind here.”
“What is it?”
“Another bag.”
She grabbed one and headed over to where he was. Darn, she wasn’t his gopher. He reached behind the metal bolted to the side of the bridge and pulled out gauze bandages.
“There’s blood on them.” He set them into the bag, and she closed it up.
“Good find,” she said.
He pulled off the latex gloves. “The ME has his work cut out for him.”
She got caught in his intense, dark gaze, was held captive and mesmerized. He leaned over, giving her a challenging look, all the time his eyes locked on her. Everything suspended, time, movement, breath; even the ocean seemed to go…still.
The experience was so seductive, intimate and unnerving.
She stared right back at him, refusing to be seduced or intimidated. Refusing to admit to either, at any rate. He grinned, as if amused by her spunk, and broke off the eye contact to step back.
“He’s up to the challenge.”
His mouth curved. “I’ve no doubt.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going.”
“All right. Could you keep me posted on your petty officer? I’ll have the body transferred to Naval Station Norfolk…”
“You should contact the NCIS office. I’m heading back.”
He took a step forward and she took an automatic step backward, chastising herself for it. This man was the kind who would sense a weakness and exploit it. She could feel it, could see it in the way his dark gaze seemed to catch everything. She took a quick, hot breath.
“You’re leaving? You don’t work here in Norfolk?”
He pivoted around her and sauntered away, his walk naturally cocky. Kinley watched him, astounded by her disappointment, infuriated by her reaction to him. She shook off the thought, disgusted with herself, and went after him.
“No, I was on temporary assignment. The office was short-staffed.”
The fog had lifted, and it was clear, the sky meeting the very blue of the ocean. The sound of the dock area was a constant din and the soft cadence of the cutter rocked against the protective rubber buoys with a hollow sound. The squawking of the gulls, creaking of the ropes and hum of traffic rolling past on the street added to the background noise. The air was filled with the scent of salt and the ripe, briny aroma of seaweed.
He glanced back at her, and she wasn’t sure why she fell into step beside him. Going through the doorway, she gritted her teeth as her disappointment intensified.
“Who should I contact, specifically?” she asked, following him down the gangway to the dock as he headed for the parking lot.
“Mike Steele. He’s the SAC over there,” Beau said.
When he reached a sleek cobalt-blue Mustang that screamed, I’m fast, he pressed the door release and grabbed the handle, pulling it open. She caught a glimpse of a black leather interior.
“Where exactly are you from, then?”
“They were shorthanded and requested assista
nce from us in DC.” He closed the door and folded his arms over his chest. He looked indifferent and lazy leaning back against the car, but Kinley wasn’t fooled.
“DC?” Oh man, was he a hotshot from major cases? “The Navy Yard?” She didn’t like being caught off balance, and Beau Jerrott seemed to be a master at throwing her.
His gaze held hers fast. “Yes, the Navy Yard.”
She wanted lead on this case, and she wanted to be given her own team. This cutter mystery could propel her to where she wanted to go. It suited her that he was leaving, both professionally and personally.
He shifted his weight forward, invading her personal space once again, and she had to fight to keep from jumping back as her tension level rose into the red zone. She held her ground and tilted her chin up to look him in the eye.
“Ambition can bite you in the butt,” he murmured.
“What?” she answered, breathless and hating it. Her nerves gave a warning tremor as control of the situation seemed to slip a little further out of her grasp.
“I see that competitive gleam in your eye. What do you need to prove and who do you need to prove it to?”
She gave a half laugh of impatience, shifting position in a way that put another inch of space between them. “I won’t lie. This is a promotion-making case and I’ve…been working on that. So, yes, I’m ambitious.”
“At least you know the chain that binds you,” he drawled, shuffling his feet, inching his way into her space again. “That’s a good thing. Just don’t lose sight of the shore. Being a sailor, that’s always in us. The shore.”
“That’s cryptic advice.”
There was that grin again and those dimples. “I think you like a puzzle, lady,” he said.
“Why are you here?”
“To give them my opinion,” Beau said. “I’ll do that and head out. My only regret is that I won’t be helping Dixon get his justice. Good luck with the investigation.”
Kinley drew a deep breath through her nostrils, trying in vain to stem the rising tide of attraction. “I could keep you posted about the investigation, if you wanted me to. Do you have a card?”
He arched a brow. “Sure, that would be good.” His voice dropped an octave, back to that smoky tone.
Really, it was best he was going back to DC.
He fished out a card and handed it to her. But when she went to take it, he didn’t let go. His blue eyes bore into her, suddenly intense, suddenly serious. “If they had no qualms about brutally killing six men, they will stop at nothing.”
“With your petty officer in the middle of it?”
He turned back to the car and opened the door again, slipping inside. “Looks that way, but this is your home turf. Bye, Special Agent Cooper.”
He closed the door and started the car. Feeling oddly deflated, she headed back to the ship.
“Hey, Cooper.” She turned around to find him still sitting in the parking lot, the window rolled down.
“What?” she asked.
“You be careful.”
“I can take care of myself, Agent Jerrott.”
He wasn’t her protector. She didn’t need one. So why was he compelled to tell her to be careful? Something about her made him want to unravel her control, make her want to break some rules. He was the man to do it. But only on a temporary basis. Laissez les bons temps rouler. Let the good times roll. Except, he would keep his distance and his perspective. He had never slept with a coworker before, even though, technically, Kinley wasn’t his coworker. She was a wildcard and she tested his resolve.
Special Agent Kinley Cooper was a very beautiful woman, but he wasn’t headed for any kind of downfall. He was headed out of town and back to DC where he belonged. He’d already been in Norfolk for longer than he’d planned. His boss, Chris Vargas, wanted him back.
His cell rang as he pulled into the NCIS field office in Norfolk.
“Jerrott,” he said as he got out of the car.
“Beau, it’s Chris. Where are you now?”
He leaned on the roof of the car, the fall sun warm on the back of his neck. “I’m just getting to the field office to give them my take on the cutter they found with Dixon’s body on board.”
“Good. You’re staying.”
“What? I thought you needed me back in DC?”
“We can manage without you, but SECNAV and the Commandant of the Coast Guard decided it’s best to assign a two-agent team to the investigation and they’re still shorthanded. You’ll do all your work right from the field office on Naval Station Norfolk.”
“Copy that. Who’s the CGIS agent?” He looked over at a car that had just pulled into the spot next to his. The sun flashed on auburn hair and that gorgeous face rose into his line of vision just as Chris said, “Special Agent Kinley Cooper.”
Beau groaned when she looked at him over the roof of her car with the same kind of look that was probably on his face right now.
“Problem?”
“Ah, no, she seems competent. I can handle her.” He saw her mouth tighten and he smirked, loving her sass. Her green eyes narrowed at him and she snorted.
Chris laughed. “Well, good, then she’ll keep you in line. I want regular reports.”
He tilted his head, shoving back his hair, and she watched his every move. Uh-huh, she was just as interested in him as he was in her. “Yes, sir.”
He flashed her one of his knockout grins and she looked at him like she was totally unimpressed. Trouble was what she looked like, and not the kind he usually dove into headfirst, either. He was in for a whole lot of hot and cold.
Hot case for them.
Cold shoulder from her.
Cold showers for him.
Chapter Three
Kinley checked in with the evidence collection team onboard, took a offered ride from one of her co-workers to fetch her car, wishing she had time to shower and change, but the case was moving too fast and made her way to NCIS. Shortly after she closed her car door Kinley noticed SA Beau Jerrott walking toward her and the building. As they approached the entrance, another car pulled up. Beau turned to find SAC Stafford popping out of the car. He waved to them, pushed his door closed and came around the car.
Upon reaching them, they fell into step together. “Sir,” Kinley said, giving Beau a sidelong look.
“I’m just here to give you your marching orders and to confer with SAC Steele.” He gave Beau a nod. Once inside the office, SAC Steele came forward and shook hands with SAC Stafford.
He did a double take with Kinley. Beau didn’t like it. Mike was married with two kids, yet the way he looked at her made Beau feel…proprietary when he had no reason to keep tabs on the redhead. In fact, she’d been cool toward him. She was going to be someone he worked with and that was it. He had to think about her like he did with his coworker Special Agent Amber Dalton back in DC, who was like an annoying kid sister to him. Except he didn’t have those thoughts about Amber or his sister.
Unlike him, Kinley offered her hand to Mike, and he shook it with an appreciative smile crossing his face. “Sounds like you had a harrowing morning, Special Agent Cooper.
“Oh, please call me Kinley.”
Beau bristled. Why hadn’t she made the same offer to him? He took a deep breath. Why the hell was he acting like a spurned high schooler? He’d had girls all over him from the moment he could remember. The older he got the more he understood about how beautiful, soft and heartbreaking they could be. Okay, just once with the heartbreak, but that was more than enough. He wasn’t prepared to go through losing a woman he loved again like he had with Jennifer.
Sweet, oh-please-call-me-Kinley had heartbreaker written all over her, and he was worried that it would be in a way that was both unexpected and irresistible.
It was hard to find himself feeling a bit at a loss with a woman.
“I have the address of Petty Officer Dixon for you. His record was clean. Spotless, in fact. He was a good sailor and had never gotten into trouble. But go ahead and t
alk to his CO. He was stationed on—”
“The USS Daniel Robinson, Arleigh Burke–class destroyer, larger and more heavily armed than its predecessors,” Kinley said.
“Yes, that’s right. You know your ships,” Mike said. “His family is actually in Norfolk.” He handed Beau a scrap of paper and he went to pull out his phone and enter the address into his GPS.
“I know where that is,” Kinley said softly, looking at the paper. “Thank you for staying and lending a helping hand, again, Beau.”
“Of course. I’m yours until you get some hands on deck.”
“That’s good, because both SECNAV and the Commandant of the Coast Guard want you to lead this investigation. With your SEAL background and your exemplary record, we’re lucky to have you on this.”
He heard the small gasp and saw her stiffen beside him, even as he was focusing on what Mike was saying. He glanced at Kinley, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were suddenly carrying that bruised expression again, before it was suddenly replaced with anger.
Right. She wanted lead on this and, well, he’d effectively stolen her thunder, though he definitely was qualified for this investigation after having come off that special op for NCIS in Afghanistan. He still didn’t like thinking about it.
He heard Kinley’s boss ask to speak with her and they walked to the back of the room. He spoke to her quickly and at the end of it squeezed her shoulder. Her voice was quiet, but it was laced with anger. Stafford said something low and soothing sounding, but it didn’t appease her. She brushed past him and slammed out of the office. Mike watched her go with that same look in his eyes. And it torqued Beau off all over again.
Stafford grabbed his arm as he was heading out the door. “She expected to take lead. I tried to let her know about your qualifications, but there are extenuating circumstances I can’t go into, and suffice it to say, she’s…uh…pissed.”
“Yeah, with my great observational skills I got that.”
“I could probably assign someone else—”
“No. She discovered all this. She has a right to be included in this case. I wouldn’t want to take that away from her. I can handle it.”
