Exposing Ethan (Cassidy Kincaid Mystery Book 4)

by Amy Waeschle

  “Tell me more about growing up in Hawaii,” she said.

  Bruce obliged, painting a picture of his childhood, of exploring the beaches with his mom, of learning to surf with his dad, of BMX biking with his friends, of hurricanes and luaus and spear fishing.

  “You ever see sharks?”

  “Oh, sure,” he answered. “My uncle got bitten once, surfing.”

  “He was okay?”

  “Yeah. Twenty-eight stitches though, and he was in the hospital for three days.”

  “You don’t have brothers or sisters?”

  Cassidy felt him brush her wrist bone with the edge of his thumb, so soft she wasn’t even sure if he’d done it on purpose. “Nope. But cousins, and friends. We moved like a pack, going from house to house or yard to yard. When the surf was up we’d go to the beaches to surf or skim board.”

  “Not to hit on girls?” she teased.

  “Ha! I was afraid of girls.”

  “You? Afraid?”

  He chuckled. “Heck yeah. I had my friends, the ocean, freedom. It was everything I needed.”

  “When did that line of thinking change?” It was pretty fun teasing him.

  “Oh, boy,” he said, followed by a deep sigh. “That would be Aliana Hayes, junior year of high school.”

  “Is this a story of heartbreak?”

  “The saddest one you’ve ever heard,” he said, but she heard the smile in his voice.

  “Let me guess. You gave up everything to be with her, and she dumped you.”

  “Wow, you’re good,” he said, shifting his position so that their eyes met.

  “Hardly. It’s the same story we all have, right?”

  “Quinn didn’t beat up the guys who broke your heart?”

  She scoffed at this. “Quinn doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body.”

  “Not even to protect you?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’ve always been the one to protect him. Especially after our dad died.”

  “No wonder you two are so close.”

  “He’s been there for me. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

  “I’ll be glad when this case is over,” Bruce said.

  They lay in silence for a while, his body heating hers, his fingertips brushing gently against her skin.

  “What will happen after that?” she asked. “Will you go undercover again?”

  “Not on this case,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “This is my home turf. Too risky.”

  “What about on another case?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “The case. What’s going on in my life.”

  Cassidy’s skin prickled with a chill.

  “When I took the last one, it was because I needed a challenge. And space.”

  “It must have been such a hard job though,” she said. “I mean, you had to put your life on hold for almost three years.” The warmth from his body seemed to radiate into her, welcoming her. She wrapped her arm across his abdomen, her hand resting against the curve of his side. His arm followed, and she felt it again, that soft caress on her wrist.

  “I was ready. I needed to break away.”

  “Because of your divorce?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It probably sounds like an escape, and I’m sure part of it was.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” she said. An ache tightened behind her breastbone when she thought of all the ways she’d tried to hide from the pain of losing Pete. If not for Jay and the hard work they had done, would her episode with Xanax and beer have ended differently? Would she be here in Bruce’s arms?

  “The job was kind of fun, though,” he said.

  “Fun?”

  “Sure. I got to be someone else for a while. And I got to surf some incredible waves.”

  “But it was also dangerous. How can you enjoy yourself when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder?”

  “Remember that I wasn’t alone. I had a team. They watched my back.”

  “I guess I can see the surfing part being fun.” She wondered if her arm was draped over his scar.

  “I’m glad tonight’s over,” he said, his arm pulling her tighter against him. “I was going crazy, worrying about you guys in there.”

  “I was pretty freaked out,” she said. “I hope Bo didn’t notice.”

  “Sounds like he was pretty focused on Quinn.”

  “Until he said that thing about leaving with him.”

  “I just about busted down the door when I heard that,” Bruce said, his voice tight.

  “You didn’t trust me to handle it?” she said, pushing off his chest to look at him.

  Bruce’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t trust him. I kept having these images of him cornering you somewhere.” He clenched his eyes shut for an instant, and when he opened them, she saw the fierce determination there. “I won’t let you get hurt again.”

  The silence between them lengthened.

  “It’s crazy late,” Bruce finally said. “Do you want me to go?”

  Cassidy tried to imagine what it would feel like to wake up in his arms, but a rush of fear filled her so fast she had to stifle a gasp. “Maybe,” she said, hoping it wouldn’t offend him.

  “You got it,” he said easily, giving her arm one last stroke with his thumb before rising, taking her with him.

  Cassidy rolled to her feet and stretched. As she turned back, she caught Bruce looking away. Had he been watching her?

  She led him inside and closed the patio door behind him.

  “You don’t lock it up?” he asked.

  “We’re two stories up,” she said, giving him a look. “The risk of bandits scaling the side of the building is rather low, I’d say.”

  Bruce frowned, then reached over and locked it. “It never hurts to be extra cautious.”

  “Don’t tell me. You sleep with a gun under your pillow, don’t you?” she asked, watching him slip into his shoes.

  His eyes danced. “Nah. The Uzi doesn’t fit.”

  Cassidy laughed.

  He shook his head. “No gun under my pillow. But it’s always nearby.”

  They walked to the door, imagining sleeping in a room where there was a weapon at the ready. For what, though? Did Bruce live with the idea that someone was coming for him?

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, and pulled her into his arms.

  Resting her head against his shoulder, she soaked in the steady feel of him, his warmth. A part of her wanted him to stay, but a more aggressive voice was telling her to push him out the door.

  Finally, he released her. “Goodnight, Cassidy.”

  The butterfly flutters erupted inside her gut again, making her feel nauseous. “Goodnight,” she said, her breath shaky.

  He seemed about to say something else, but smiled instead. And then he stepped into the dark hallway.

  Quinn didn’t come home until almost 5:00 a.m. She knew because she was awake after drifting off sometime after midnight.

  By 6:00, she couldn’t stay in bed any longer and rose, tugging on a set of running clothes. She pulled back her hair into a ponytail and laced up her shoes, then exited the apartment quietly. At this hour, the pale streets carried a hushed quality she loved. She decided to run south along the PCH, even though it would be loud and busy because of the ocean view.

  Settling into her pace, she watched the handful of early bird surfers bob over the waves, which were small, and thought about Bo’s invitation. Would she have to surf Deadman’s Point with him on Saturday? At least surfing is safer than being in a bar with him, she thought. And I won’t have to wear a wire. She remembered Bruce’s I’ll be glad when this case is over.

  When would that be?

  More fragments of her conversation with Bruce the night before returned. Did the act of joining him on the chair mean that something had changed between them?

  When she said goodbye at the door
and froze…had he been debating whether to kiss her?

  A tingle of violent energy jolted her empty stomach. Was she ready for something like that? She cared deeply for him as a friend, and she sensed he felt the same way about her. Didn’t that mean they should keep things as they were—friends?

  The sun crept over the hills to the east, melting the shadows inch by inch as she continued, passing pedestrians and wetsuit-clad surfers headed to the water, boards tucked beneath their arms.

  What would it be like to live here? She hadn’t given it much thought because her life’s choices revolved around her career. If there had been a job at UC Berkley, sure, she would have considered it, but her final decision came down to how well the position or institution served her goals. The University of Washington’s Earth and Space Sciences Department had basically handed her the keys to her retiring advisor’s position. Though she would have to prove herself and work her way up to the level of influence he had cultivated, it was an ideal fit, and one she had worked hard for. Unless something changed—like excessive department drama or budget cuts—she planned to build her future there.

  By the time she looped back, dipping down to the beach for her final mile so she could feel the ocean breeze on her face and the sand beneath her sneakers, a package was waiting for her. The return address wasn’t familiar, but it was addressed to her.

  Inside Quinn’s apartment, Bruce had texted her.

  A package should be coming for you this morning.

  Curious, she opened it to discover two prepaid cell phones.

  They’re lovely, she teased in her reply.

  Is that all it takes to please you?

  Her empty stomach came alive like a bag of worms. Was this flirting?

  Inside was a note explaining that she and Quinn would use these phones to communicate with the agents going forward. Special Agent Harris wanted to take no chances.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as she considered the implication. Noticing that Quinn’s door was still shut, Cassidy tiptoed into the kitchen to make coffee.

  One of the phones chirped, and Cassidy pounced to silence it so as to not wake Quinn.

  We’re going to keep face-to-face meetings to a minimum for everyone’s security, and we won’t be using our task force HQ. But we need to talk next steps.

  Want to come over? she texted.

  Negative, he replied.

  Cassidy paused, troubled by the way his tone had seemed to shift from teasing her to military talk. She had the feeling that she was being punished, though for what, she didn’t know.

  Get on the Hyde/Powell line from Ghirardelli Square.

  Quinn, too, or just me?

  Would Quinn normally go along?

  She thought about this. Occasionally she convinced him to ride the California line after a visit to the Saturday market at the Ferry Building. As a local, he had no interest in the touristy experience, but Cassidy still loved it.

  Not on this route, she texted back.

  Okay, then just you.

  When?

  As soon as you can.

  Cassidy braced her hip against the counter, thinking. On her real phone, Bruce had teased her, maybe she would even call it flirting. But on the burner phone, he’d been stern and cold.

  Why couldn’t she read him?

  Seventeen

  Cassidy boarded the ancient cable car and found a seat facing sideways. Though still early, the summer sun beat down on the waiting area next to the trolley’s turnaround, heating the metal and concrete, and she craved to feel the breeze on her face once they were underway. Her quick text to Bruce had boomeranged back with a terse reply: See you soon.

  After leaving Quinn a note and his burner phone, she had taken a rideshare to Ghirardelli Square and then hiked up to the station to join a small queue of tourists. She merged into the line behind a large family, all with matching hats and speaking a language she didn’t recognize. Soon, a couple holding hands and kissing fell in behind her, the woman in a tight tank top and tiny shorts, the man wearing mid-shin-length, wide-cuff pants that Quinn would call “man-pris.” The line filled with several other travelers—tall, short, talking loudly or not at all, one donning sunscreen, another trying to hand-feed a seagull the remains of her muffin.

  Finally, the two conductors climbed aboard and after taking tickets, donned their gloves. The car lurched to life and Cassidy held on as they ascended a steep hill, passing The Buena Vista where already a line stretched out the door. They left the waterfront behind. Beneath her feet, the spinning cable hummed while the trolley clunked and shuddered. The breeze found her, cooling her forehead. At the top of the hill, the car turned left as the conductor rang the bell.

  “Is this seat taken?” a voice asked.

  Startled, she looked up to see Bruce’s tanned face shaded by a San Francisco Giants ball cap. He wore dark jeans, and a navy-blue t-shirt that looked to be freshly ironed, or else brand-new.

  “No,” Cassidy said, sliding left to make more room.

  Next to Bruce, the couple she’d observed kissing like newlyweds were working through several selfie poses.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly,” he said, barely audible over the rumble of the wheels. Because of the tight space, their thighs pressed together. Bruce’s hand rested only inches from hers.

  “Of course,” she said, suppressing the million questions rattling around in her mind.

  She felt the deep sigh he exhaled by the way his chest expanded against her side. “We’re now moving into a new phase. Everything is riding on the success of turning him. We need to wait for him to make the next move.”

  “How long do you think that will take?”

  “No idea. The ball’s in his court.”

  “I’m assuming this means I’ll need to stay in town.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Yes. Can you manage that?”

  The cable car had reached the apex of the route and slowed to let some of the passengers get off. She realized that she was holding her breath. “Do I have a choice?” she replied, forcing her lungs to cooperate.

  “Yes, but I think you know the consequences if you leave.”

  Cassidy gripped the side of the bench as the cable car lurched forward. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You’ll stay, then?”

  The cable car coasted down the hill, passing into the shade of the tall buildings. Immediately, her skin cooled and she closed her eyes to savor it. “Yes.”

  Next to her, she felt him relax.

  She glanced at him, wanting some form of reassurance, but knowing she couldn’t ask for it, not here. “But I can’t stay forever.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  “So, what happens now?” What happens to us? she wanted to add but didn’t. Maybe last night didn’t mean what she thought it did.

  “We’ll see how things go this afternoon. He’s bringing samples for the kitchen staff. I suspect he’ll carry on with legit business deals for now, waiting for the right moment to go after what he really wants. That’s when we’ll move in.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m just supposed to sit around and wait.” Her tone carried no malice, but Bruce grimaced.

  Next to them, the couple continued kissing. The man pulled the woman’s legs sideways over his lap. Cassidy turned away.

  “And if you’re comfortable, engage with him,” Bruce said, seemingly unfazed by the PDA going on inches from him.

  Cassidy suppressed a groan, though she had expected him to say this.

  “But don’t let him get you alone, okay?”

  Cassidy clenched her molars so tight an ache spread into her jaw. Great, like that won’t be awkward.

  “Surfing is probably safe.”

  “Unless he tries to drown me,” she said, surprising herself.

  Bruce cursed softly, then adjusted his cap. The gesture reminded her of Brad Sawyer.

  “Anyone bother looking into Brad’s claim yet?” she asked, knowing it would likely further provo
ke him. Maybe that was her goal.

  Bruce didn’t answer for a moment. “There’s not much to go on.”

  The conductor rang the bell to announce an upcoming cross street, then the cable car tipped over the edge of another hill and accelerated. In the back of the car, the brakeman leaned hard against his lever.

  “I tried to follow up with him, but he’s not answering.”

  “Do you want me to try?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, almost forcefully.

  I wouldn’t have taken it any further than that, she wanted to protest. Why was he shutting her out? “Anything else, captain?” she said, her tone brisk.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him flinch. “We have to play this by the book.”

  So…what was last night? she wanted to ask. “Fine, I get it,” she said, though this was a lie. She could feel herself shutting down, and stood to pull the cord.

  Bruce grabbed her hand and urged her back down. With difficulty, she resisted the urge to shake him off.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t,” she replied as her heart turned prickly and full.

  He looked away. “Nothing’s changed.”

  Cassidy barked out a laugh, which felt so wrong, but her mind was turning to mush.

  He sighed. “He’ll likely contact you, either to surf or to meet up.”

  “So, I guess that means I’ll be going.” The cable car slowed. She stood to disembark, and this time, he didn’t stop her.

  As the cable car continued down the hill, dropping out of sight, the clunks and groans of the cab disappearing with it, Cassidy scrubbed her face with her hands.

  Her phone chirped from her pocket.

  I’m watching your TV interview on YouTube, the message said. Very impressive.

  Disoriented, Cassidy scanned for the name of the sender and felt her blood pressure drop: Quinn.

  I’m kind of a big shot, she texted back.

  Make sure you remember the little people when you hit it big.

  She grinned. I could say the same about you, you slut.

  Meet me for breakfast. You’re buying.

  Cassidy grinned as a powerful warmth spread through her. Deal.