“You ever have sex with anyone in the restroom in this bar?”
“No.”
“So we’re not gonna find your DNA in there?”
“Not unless you put it there.” Daniel held Kershaw’s gaze.
The cop’s eyes were hard now, weighing and measuring him as though he was a piece of meat. “How long have you lived in this country, Mr. Fox?”
“Two years.” Daniel forced himself to relax because he knew what was coming.
“You were in the UK before that?”
Daniel nodded. He’d been based in the UK.
“Any criminal record? Any surprises we should know about before I put in a request to the British authorities?”
Anything he should know? Did double taps count? Daniel shook his head. “No.”
Kershaw leaned back in his seat and Daniel recognized a young female constable from Nain walking swiftly across the room. She looked proper and professional in her gray shirt and navy pants and smiled a tad too brightly.
“I just found out Mr. Fox was in the military before he moved to Canada.”
Bollocks.
The Doc watched him avidly from beneath her lashes as she chewed her food.
“Oh yeah?” Kershaw’s face gained a smile but Daniel saw the neurons firing. “I was in the Navy for a few years myself—what unit were you in?”
Daniel looked down at his tightly clenched fists that gave away the fact he wasn’t feeling as relaxed as he wanted them to think. He sat back and spread his hands on his thighs. He could bluff. Lie. He was good at it. But it was only a matter of time before they found out the truth. And if he lied, they might think he had something to hide. Bloody hell. He glanced at the Doc, who was now pretending to stare out the window even though he could tell from the angle of her chin she was listening to every word.
“I was in the Parachute Regiment for three years.” He paused, wondering if that was enough but then figured it wasn’t. “And 22-SAS for eight years.”
Kershaw whistled. “Impressive. What rank?”
“Sergeant.” Daniel glanced sideways as understanding dawned on the Doc’s face. Give him military approval and the fact he’d killed wasn’t such a horrifying act. But Daniel knew he wasn’t a hero or a monster. He was somewhere messed up in-between.
“Why’d you leave the SAS?” Kershaw asked.
Because he’d killed a civilian cameraman but let the reporter live. Big mistake.
This cop was smart. Daniel could tell he’d just catapulted straight to number-one suspect status. “Eleven years is a long time.” Not long enough. He shrugged nonchalantly, slumped in his seat as though he couldn’t be bothered to even stretch his mouth in a yawn. “I’d had enough.” Maybe they’d check it out. Maybe they wouldn’t. He didn’t care. But no way was he discussing it further in front of the Doc, and he’d been the one to insist that she stay. What a git.
Kershaw surprised him. “You can both go. We know where to find you?” This question was directed to the female constable who stood at Kershaw’s shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
Daniel bolted to his feet.
“Don’t leave town…”
He didn’t hear what the RCMP Constable was saying because he was outside inhaling huge gulps of pristine air. Seconds later, he felt the Doc standing behind him. Sweat superheated his back, and for an awful moment he thought he was going to have a panic attack right here in front of all these cops.
“Well, that went well,” she said. Then she took a chug of water from her bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sarge.”
Chapter Six
Swifter and More Keen than Eagles 11 Squadron RAF
Cam sat in the passenger seat, trying to figure out what to say. They were alone in the chopper going full belt just meters above the surface of the ocean. The pounding of the rotors was fierce, the sun blazing so brightly she squinted even behind her sunglasses. It was exhilarating to go so fast, but also a little bit scary. And he knew it.
He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the bar, but his jaw flexed rhythmically and his expression was as grim as a death mask.
“Daniel—”
“Don’t.” His voice sliced through the headphones, sharp and resonant. James Bond minus the charm. “Whatever you’re going to say. Don’t.”
Cam tucked in her chin. “I was only going to say that I’m sorry for misjudging you.”
“You did not misjudge me.” Daniel raised his glasses to look at her. His eyes may have been a deep, dark blue, but they were chilling. Cam shivered, but couldn’t look away even though she knew they were heading straight toward a cliff.
“Ah…” Her voice rose and she sank her nails into her seat and closed her eyes, certain she was about to die. She didn’t want to die! She hadn’t put so much time and effort into living, only to die now.
But he pulled up sharply and swooped over the rock, and her stomach flip-flopped like a landed fish.
“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled as she finally found her voice, and her fury. The miserable sonofabitch. The guy was a total asshole.
And then she got it.
It was so juvenile, she started laughing. “You are such a moron! You don’t want me to like you, do you? You want me to think you’re a dick-driven jerk who gets his jollies scaring women. Don’t you?”
He dropped the glasses back onto his nose. “Lady, I don’t give a damn what you think of me.”
But he was a liar and suddenly she understood the intimidating stares and yesterday’s macho demonstration of close-quarter knife work. It was all bull. “I don’t believe you.”
They’d been heading over familiar terrain, but now Cam realized she was lost. “Where are we going?”
“Scared to be alone with me, Doc?” He taunted her before his eyes turned hotter than flame. His gaze dropped lazily across her plain, serviceable T-shirt as if she had double-D wonderboobs.
Her skin quivered. It wasn’t real. What he was doing wasn’t real.
He smiled because whether it was real or not, he knew the effect he had on the female body. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared out the window. He’d looked at Vikki the same way yesterday and Cam figured it was his defense mechanism, or his default mode. He used the suggestion of imminent mind-blowing sex to keep her at a distance.
Why? Was it easier to have sex than to talk? For a guy like him—probably. And it made for one hell of a diversion tactic. But he’d been rattled back in the bar with the cops. She’d seen the strain in his knuckles and around his lips. What had unnerved him? The fact they’d found out he’d been a soldier? Or the fact he’d had sex with the victim?
No surprise there. The guy was a walking testosterone bomb, probably addicted to sex the way most people were addicted to oxygen.
“You’re full of shit,” she told him.
He ignored her and they both stared at the humanless landscape below. It felt like they were Adam and Eve. All they needed was the apple, and Cam was pretty sure Daniel had already talked to the serpent about that.
“What time do you need to take your next shot of insulin?”
He caught her off-guard with the question. It wasn’t his business. “What did you do to Vikki? To turn her off so fast?” she countered.
His fingers curled around the cyclic, a vein standing out on the back of his hand. Then he looked at her again, and even though she was braced for that sensual half-lidded look, it shook her.
“You want details? I’m surprised because you don’t look the type.”
“You have no idea what type I am, so cut the crap.”
“So tell me, Doc. What are you into? Standard missionary or maybe slow tantric sex?” His eyes glittered and she wondered why he was so angry. “Or maybe you’re into polite bondage? Silk scarves and a four-poster bed?”
The pulse in her neck buzzed as her blood pumped triple-time. It wasn’t the image of herself tied to a four-poster that flashed through her mind—it was
him. And he was distracting her again.
“When do you need your next shot of insulin?” he asked in a cool voice that defied all the imagery he’d conjured.
She huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Vikki said you were a psycho.”
Daniel’s smile was all teeth, but Cam caught a flicker of something at the back of his eyes. Hurt? Vulnerability? Acknowledgement?
“When do you need your next shot?” He wasn’t giving up on his determination to probe into her life. Damn, the man was stubborn.
She checked her watch. Giving in was easier than arguing with him. “It’s only four. I don’t usually eat until six-thirty or seven. I’ll take my next shots just before I eat.”
“Then I’m taking a break.” He swooped the helicopter off to the right and flew up into the barren hills.
“Where are we going?” She was wary of what he wanted to do, but not scared. Seconds later they began descending. He hovered over a small patch of wild grass beside a tarn and put the bird down with barely a bump. He flicked buttons and the rotors slowed.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“Why?” The word came out of her mouth the same time his shirt hit the dash. Her mouth dropped open as she sat mesmerized by the carved muscles of his chest and the warm dry scent of his skin. Then he kicked off his boots and was pulling off his socks.
“Or not.” He shrugged. He undid the button on his jeans. “Your choice.”
“What are you doing?” she squeaked as he shucked his jeans and shorts. And there he was, stark naked.
He laughed at her. “I told you to close your eyes.” Then he climbed out of the machine and walked to the edge of the lake. Cam was unable to take her eyes off the tan lines and his perfect bare white ass.
Oh. My. God.
He waded into the water up to his hips, his body disappearing beneath the surface—which was a damn shame—before executing a smooth dive. She scrambled out of her seat, once again forgetting the headphones and being pulled up short. She yanked them off, tossed them onto the seat and strode to the edge of the water.
“You’re crazy. You know that?” she yelled as he popped up in the middle of the lake. He laughed and floated on his back like some mythological Greek hero, except the statues she’d seen had never been so well…drawn. She pressed her hands to her cheeks but didn’t turn away. Damn him anyway.
“Must be cold in there.” She nodded at his manly bits because he was one arrogant devil.
One side of his mouth curved into a smile. “You ever watch Seinfeld?” he asked in that superior British voice of his.
She was from Florida. Of course she’d watched frickin’ Seinfeld. “Yeah.”
“Remember George going swimming in the Hamptons?”
“In your dreams, buddy.” She snorted because she knew where he was going with this.
“Shrinkage.” He turned over and started a fast crawl across the glassy surface of the lake.
Cam grinned. Daniel Fox was trying to derail her train of thought with his humor and intimidate her with his lack of modesty, but she was hardly a prude. He was manipulating her. She felt hot and sticky and knew it wasn’t her blood sugar going haywire. It was basic biology making her chest tighten and her blood pound. But she could control her natural urges. Self-control was what she did best.
Even so she longed to take off her boots and sink her toes into the cold water. Because of her condition she had to take extra-special care of her feet, and for once she didn’t want to. She wanted to be free of diabetes and the constant list of rules that got in the way of her just letting go and having fun.
Diabetes sucked.
It was a blindfold juggling act between insulin, diet and exercise, and it ended with your last breath.
Irritated by this demonstration of her lack of freedom, she picked up a flat stone and skimmed it over the surface of the water. Then she turned away from temptation and spotted some animal tracks in the soft earth at the edge of the lake.
She went back to the helicopter and pulled her digital camera from her bag. She squatted and took some close-ups of the prints. Four claws and toes and a wide heel pad. Could it be a wolf? She glanced around. She’d love to see a wolf in the wild. The sound of splashing grew louder and she was dazzled by the vision of Daniel wading out of the shallows.
Holy smoke. Okay, she was supposed to look away but…“You have no shame, do you?” Heat pulsed through her cheeks, and to hide it she turned the camera toward him and snapped a shot. Maybe that’d teach him to keep his shorts on.
“You going to blackmail me with that?” He looked unconcerned by blackmail and any other damn thing.
“Yeah.” Cam pulled a face and held the screen out to him. “But, aw, look, you can’t see anything because I forgot to put it on macro.”
He slicked the water out of his short hair. “Smartass.”
“Takes one to know one—”
“Oh, that’s mature.” He laughed. And it was the laughter and sparkle in his eyes that made her turn away, rather than the fact he was naked and wet.
“Shouldn’t you put that thing away?” she asked, pretending she wasn’t fascinated by the honed six-pack body, because she sure as hell wasn’t into the bullying masochistic personality.
“We’ve still got five minutes.” He raised his arms high over his head and stretched out his muscles. He waggled his brows suggestively when she glanced over her shoulder. “Sure I can’t interest you in…”
He pointed downward, but she refused to lower her gaze. He was joking—at least she thought he was joking. Men like Daniel Fox weren’t that easy to read, although he was a guy who seemed addicted to sex and therefore probably not joking.
“You’d run a mile if I said yes.” God, where had that come from? But she held his gaze and knew it was true because after a moment he looked away and his expression turned serious. The man wasn’t quite the sex fiend he wanted everyone to believe. So what was he?
“Anyway,” she joked, “what would we do with the other four minutes thirty seconds?”
His grin shot back a lightning bolt of pure sin. “Make you come—again.” Her jaw dropped, but he’d turned away. “Stop checking out my ass,” he yelled.
“Seen one ass, you’ve seen ’em all.” She shook her head and looked up at the sky. She had been checking out his ass. What heterosexual female wouldn’t?
She tried to ignore him while he dried off. The race of her heart slowly returned to normal and she clamped down on all those wanton little tingles. She followed the animal tracks up into meadowland, where they disappeared in the thick matted tufts of grass.
What was it?
She felt a change in the atmosphere and swung around. Even though she hadn’t heard him, Daniel stood right behind her.
She jumped. “Don’t do that!” She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. “After finding that woman yesterday…” She trailed off because she still couldn’t believe what she’d found. Poor Sylvie Watson.
He touched her shoulder. “I don’t go around slitting women’s throats.”
Calmness radiated from his demeanor now, but Cam was sure some other emotion lay just beneath the surface. And suddenly she felt incredibly tired. The journey, the murder, the lack of sleep, and pressure of failing at her new job were all getting to her. That, and the growing fascination with this complex and irritating individual.
“How about we agree to be friends?” she suggested. “Drop the bullshit, agree never to have sex, and just get on with our jobs?”
“Never have sex?” He pulled a mock astonished face. “Oh, you mean with each other?”
“Cut the crap.” She punched him in the arm, knowing he was going to say something nasty, but he surprised her by just looking at her.
“I don’t need friends.”
God, how depressing was that? The wind started to get up, and now that Daniel had his clothes back on, she noticed the chill in the air.
“Let’s go,” he said, cupping her elbow and guiding her
along the path.
They walked back in silence and he cranked up the machine. Cam stared out the window as they lifted high into the sky, the bottom dropping out of her world. And she swore she saw something dark darting into the thick grass near an old felled tree and craned her neck to see. When they passed over the area she stared hard, but there was nothing except the land and the wind dancing together beneath them.
***
The phone in the main lounge rang and Cam went to pick it up. No one else was around. Everyone was down at dinner.
“Can I speak to Danny Fox, please?” There was a Brit on the line. A man. It took her a moment to associate Danny with Daniel.
“Hang on, I’ll just page him.” She pressed the button on the PA system that covered all the main areas of the ship and told Daniel he had a phone call. She used another phone to dial his extension which was listed on a sheet tacked to the wall. No one answered but he might take a while to get from one end of the ship to the other.
“I’ve put a call out for him, but he might be a few minutes,” she said. “You want me to get him to call you back?”
“I’ll wait.” The voice on the other end of the line hesitated for a moment. “How’s he doing?”
Cam frowned at the phone. It seemed an odd question to ask. “You mean apart from the God complex?”
The guy on the line laughed. “I take it you’re yet to be enamored with his irritating English personality. Good, there’s hope for the rest of us.”
Cam frowned, confused. “You’re not English?”
“Not on yer life.”
“You sound English to me.” Cam found herself smiling at his strangled moan on the other end.
“Aye, and you sounded nice when you picked up the phone.”
“I am nice.” Cam was enjoying herself. Flirting.
“I’m Scottish, lass, and I’ve got the kilt to prove it.” He got serious again. “So Danny’s okay?” There was a muffled crack in the background, something that sounded like gunfire. “Shit. I’ve got to go. Tell him Maggie called and if he doesn’t get in touch soon I’m going to hunt him down.”
Edge of Survival Page 7