Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5)

by Geri Krotow

  The thought occurred to him as light peeked through her darkened windows. The edge of dawn was starting to creep in.

  “How quickly can we get to Grimes?”

  “He’s forty minutes away, tops.” After a brief pause, she added, “I’ll drive you there.”

  “Like I said, I shouldn’t involve you. I can’t have you on my conscience, too.” Dread pooled deep inside him. It might be too late for him to disappear and hide out. Worse, it might be too late for Joy, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOY’S HAND FROZE as she lifted her coffee. “Are you talking about Marci? Your ex-fiancée—she was a drug addict, Brad. They arrested her murderer. I saw the same reports you did when I signed the affidavit that you were with me and our team.” She’d looked up the media reports, too.

  The silence they shared left her fears unsaid. He believed he’d failed at the most important mission he’d had—to save a loved one from her life of drug addiction.

  “Some people are truly beyond saving, Brad, no matter what you do. You’re one of the country’s top FBI agents. But addiction—it’s hard to fight, hard to defeat. Unless the addict genuinely wants help.”

  “You sound more like a counselor than a lawyer.” His derision and his anguish cut through her, but she had to at least try to convey her belief in him.

  “I’ve worked with a lot of people over the years. Just being in the Navy is like a primer in addiction training, don’t you think?”

  He grunted.

  “The Navy’s a microcosm of society. You know that, Brad. Except you get squeezed together with hundreds of your best buddies in a tin can in the middle of an endless ocean. It brings a whole new meaning to Psych 101. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen your share of alcoholics on deployment. If you ask me, it’s worse when they get back home—finally able to drink as much as they want, and no missions to keep them dry long enough to see that what they’re doing is crazy.”

  Her sermon was met with a stony silence.

  “I think you’ll feel better after you meet with Grimes. We’ll go as soon as the sun comes up, before I have to be at work. We should get the files later today, too. They’ll tell us something.”

  “If they tell us anything, you can fill me in later. You’re right—I need to see the general. I don’t feel safe just sitting here anymore, Joy.”

  “You think I have to get out of here, too?”

  “You might.”

  The weight of that reality made her want to weep, to rage at him for messing up what had become her first taste of “normal” in all her years since college. Go on the run? Where?

  This was complete insanity.

  “If you’re convinced I need to, I can wait it out on base, take a room in the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters...” Her resistance conflicted with Brad’s concern. She saw his gaze take in her expression, and he leaned toward her.

  “You don’t have to do that. Not yet. Let’s focus on getting me to General Grimes and you getting hold of the case files.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re my only hope at this point, Joy.” His sigh distressed her with its exhaustion, its obvious frustration and was that...surrender?

  “I’ll go to work today. I can’t just skip out on a new job and besides, it’ll look more natural and less suspicious. As I said earlier, let me drive you to General Grimes’s place. If you need to, hide in the backseat and pop out once we’re there and past any security. We should leave within the next thirty minutes so I can be back in time to get ready for work. I’ll go in to the office as if nothing’s different.” And she’d be able to get the files from Dennis the minute they came in.

  The early-morning light revealed the lines of his face, and she wanted to reach across the table and brush the lock of sable hair from his forehead. She liked how his longer hair made him both more approachable and wilder-looking—in a sexy way. The FBI had standards, and he’d have to cut it again once he was no longer undercover.

  “You’ve got a good plan as far as the files go, Joy. But General Grimes probably doesn’t have any answers. If he did, I’d know what they were, since I’m the one who spoke to him.”

  “You had a lot going on, Brad, and bullets were flying. Your adrenaline rush and then later, the decompression, could have wiped some things out of your mind, for better or worse.”

  He shook his head, and his stubbornness infuriated her. “Don’t you think I’ve already scoured my memory raw looking for details I might have forgotten? Do you think I like walking around knowing there’s a chance I missed some detail, and that’s allowed terrorists to continue their campaign against the US? Against innocent civilians?”

  She reached out her hand and covered one of his clenched fists. His skin was smooth and dry, and his hand seemed huge on her table. His hand stiffened, but he didn’t pull it away.

  “We all do what we can in the moment,” she said. “That’s especially true in combat. There’s nothing you can change about a mission that took place years ago. You have to accept that or you’ll never move forward.”

  “I didn’t have any problem moving forward when I was in your kitchen yesterday.”

  She felt the heat on her face, but he wasn’t going to scare her away with his sniping.

  “I realize you’ve gone over the events hundreds of times. That doesn’t mean there isn’t something left, some dark corner you’ve missed. You’ve got to figure this out, or you’re going to beat yourself up about it for the rest of your life, even after you catch these bastards.”

  Brad knew that he—no, they—were dealing with a terrorist organization that sent out tentacles who knew where? A group of individuals linked by a web of zeal and belief in the power and rightness of their cause.

  “My biggest fear is finding out that whoever’s behind this has been tracking me all along. That I’ve put everyone in my life in danger.”

  She nodded. “That’s not necessarily paranoid in this day and age. What you’re worried about is improbable, but not impossible. There’s no doubt that you might have to run. I might have to, as well, but let’s keep the focus on your meeting with the general. I’ll get the information from the files this morning. Then I’ll meet you back at General Grimes’s. Let’s hope this resolves itself quickly and simply—with the apprehension of the cell you’ve been surveilling. Then the suits can go after the international connections.”

  He stared at her until she wondered if he was having some kind of mini-stroke. Stymied, she waved her hand in front of his face.

  What she didn’t expect was Brad’s reaction as he grabbed her wrist.

  “You can drop all of this now, Joy. I’ll disappear, and your life can go on the way you’ve planned. I’ll find another way to get the information in the files.”

  “No.”

  She endured his stare for a moment, noting how his intensity made his green eyes glow almost aquamarine.

  He let go of her wrists and stood up straight. “Then let’s get moving. I’ll go shower.”

  Her confidence ebbed with each step he took toward the guest bathroom. The sinking sensation in her middle, combined with the cold sweat clinging to her skin, wasn’t unfamiliar. It was like an old friend, her anxiety. A big reason she wanted to avoid moving again. Avoid change.

  Helping Brad meant changing in a difficult and fundamental way. By going with whatever played out, no planning allowed. No planning possible.

  In fact, planning didn’t matter when you were faced with something as dynamic as a terrorist threat.

  Or when you encountered feelings. Your own. And someone else’s.

  Deep breaths. Focus on something tangible now.

  She looked at the mugs in the sink. They needed to be rinsed, loaded in the dishwasher. She should run it now so she wouldn’t come home to dirty dishes.

  Would she come home? When?

  Stay in the present.

  The mugs clattered as she pushed them together and turned on the hot water.

  �
��I rely too much on schedules and itineraries, anyway,” she muttered to herself.

  * * *

  REMORSE MADE BRAD’S shoulders painfully tight, even under the steaming shower.

  He turned off the shower. Joy’s towels were huge and fluffy compared to the old ones he’d unpacked in his new place in Seattle. Despite his intention to settle down, once again, his career had his life careening into chaos.

  Something had to give, but right now he couldn’t afford the introspection it would take to figure that out.

  A soft knock startled him out of his thoughts. “Come in.”

  As she pushed open the door, he remembered he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Nothing else.

  “Joy, wait—I need to get dressed.” He reached for his pants.

  “It’s okay. You’re decent enough, and I’m not coming in any farther.”

  It wasn’t her reaction he was concerned about.

  He turned and faced her. “Make it quick.”

  “I only wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I’ve come across as though I think you’re an inconvenience. As if I don’t want to help you with every bit of this.”

  Her face was in shadow, and he didn’t dare get any closer. Even his self-control had limits, SEAL training or no.

  “Joy, if I could turn back the clock, gone somewhere else yesterday, I would. You have every right to be pissed off at me, at the situation. This is scary stuff.”

  “I’m not scared. And I’m up for whatever you need.” The break in her voice betrayed her, but he had to give her points for balls. She had enough courage for both of them.

  “Of course you are. I wouldn’t expect any less from the same woman who...who helped free Farid.”

  He bit his tongue, hard. Hell, he’d almost blurted out that he cared about her. As in, had feelings for her.

  Deep feelings.

  Not just the kind that made him want to drop his towel and close the gap between them, either.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.” She meant “ready to leave.” But he heard the other meaning, the one he wanted to hear.

  “I know you are, Joy. That’s what’s scaring me.”

  “Nothing scares you, Ivy.”

  She used the nickname she’d given him in Norfolk because she said his hair made him look more like an Ivy League student than a SEAL. He’d been letting it grow out after months downrange...

  * * *

  “FALSE. I’M SCARED of lots of things. Pretty screwed up, in fact. I’ve already admitted that.”

  She ignored him. “You know why I called you Ivy? I told you it was your haircut, but that was only part of it. I saw in your records how much education you have. You never even mentioned that you have two master’s degrees. One in criminology, the other in psychology. And if you ever finish that dissertation, you’ll have a doctorate in criminal psychology.”

  “I get bored on shore duty.”

  “No, you’re a genius, Ivy. A bona fide genius.” She sounded as if she was talking to a rock-and-roll star, or a favorite athlete.

  “This is no-shit serious, Joy. I am messed up, I believe my life and now yours may be in danger and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. We don’t have time for this kind of chitchat. Is there anything else?”

  “Oh, I’d say I understand how no-kidding serious this mess is, and I told you, I’m in. Do you think I’d make an illegal request for files I no longer have clearance for, lie to law enforcement, let you stay in my house if I wasn’t?”

  “No. But I’ve seen things you haven’t. This could get very ugly.”

  “I’m not some newbie ensign, Agent Iverson. Get dressed, will you?” She spun around, and he gave her credit; she could make an exit.

  Until a dull thud, followed by her cry, echoed in the hallway.

  He acted without thought and was beside her, wet towel and all. Her back was hunched, and he slid his hand over her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I just stubbed my toe, that’s all.”

  She stood up quickly as if she was trying to get away from his touch. He pulled his arm back reflexively then reached out to steady her.

  Protecting Joy was instinctive.

  When she spoke and her breath caressed his cheek, he realized her face was closer than he’d noticed.

  “This is awkward, isn’t it?” Her strained voice hinted at the same turmoil he was wrestling with.

  “It’s never awkward with you.”

  His lips missed hers in the dark, and his kiss landed to the left of her mouth. He took the opportunity to adjust his stance, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight as he reached his mark on the second try.

  Her breath mingled with his. He wasted no time on sweet kisses or tender nips. He needed to feel the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Apparently, Joy had the same need, and her tongue eagerly met his.

  Brad knew kissing Joy would be incredible—how could it not be after he’d imagined it for so long? Months of wondering, of wanting, of fighting his desire. That kiss in the kitchen had satisfied nothing; it had only stoked the craving he’d been forced to ignore. The craving to go after her, find her, explore this connection between them.

  See if it might lead to more...

  Now he’d placed her in harm’s way and instead of making her safety—and the mission—his number one concerns, he was allowing himself to feel something he hadn’t felt in forever.

  Contentment.

  Immediately followed by an emotion he thought he was an expert at managing.

  Fear.

  He lifted his head and released her as quickly as he’d embraced her.

  “I’m sorry, Joy. This is the last thing I need to be doing right now. I’ve broken my promise to you that it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “We’re in a tense situation. It’s natural that we need a way to vent.”

  “I’ve been in a lot of tense scenarios, Joy. Trust me when I tell you that I’ve never felt a need to decompress like this before.”

  The house rattled and she gasped. “The wind.” She took a shallow breath. “It gusts in from the strait and shakes the rafters.”

  Her voice revealed her trepidation, her anxiety.

  “Let’s get out of here, Joy.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  PULLING OUT OF the driveway on her own was anticlimactic. Brad had left the house on foot fifteen minutes ahead of her after instructing her to drive toward her new office as if this was any other workday. He cautioned her to watch for anyone following her.

  Joy gripped the steering wheel as she drove down West Beach Road. “I’m a lawyer, damn it, not some special agent.”

  Her words seemed to hang in the car as she tried to process the fact that her new job wasn’t the priority at the moment. First step was to find Brad and get him in the car. Then they’d drive to General Grimes’s without any drama, or so she hoped. And prayed.

  After that she could still get to work in time for a normal day.

  She continued along the smoothly paved surface of West Beach Road. On any other occasion she’d appreciate the beautiful drive. Through the fir trees lining the road, she caught brief glimpses of the cliff views off the Strait of Juan de Fuca, its waters glistening in the bright sunlight. Driving through the forested part of the road onto the cleared highway that led into town, she forced a smile onto her lips. Brad had said that she needed to look “normal.” That she was being watched, no question. She wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not the authorities wanted her to know she was being tailed.

  No sooner had she pasted a smile on her face than she noticed a dark car in her rearview mirror.

  “Crap!”

  Brad had said to forget picking him up at their predetermined point—near the long drive that led up to a dog kennel, an obscure area—if she even suspected she was being tailed. He’d wait for an hour before striking out on his own.

  She didn’t have the training Brad did, but she’d represented enough clients who�
��d been followed, or who’d had the training themselves. She knew that the first way to determine if she was being followed was to take a few unexpected turns.

  Blowing past the place where she was supposed to pick Brad up, she headed into the island’s main city, Oak Harbor. Let the bastard follow her into Starbucks during morning rush hour.

  To her distress and anxiety, he did. The driver of the dark vehicle, which had stayed behind her the entire trip, walked into Starbucks two minutes after she did.

  Keep cool.

  She gripped her purse, steeling herself to make a quick exit if need be.

  “Joy?”

  To say she jumped out of her skin was an understatement. She swallowed a scream that would have pierced the eardrums of the barista.

  A display of large mugs stood to her right. If she needed to, she could grab one and deliver a blow to someone’s head.

  She turned around and stared at her “tail.”

  “Paul!”

  Paul Scott, her new boss. Great.

  “I thought that was you. What, isn’t the coffee at the office good enough for you?” He flashed a warm smile at her.

  “Were you just on West Beach Road?” she asked.

  He gestured at his running attire. Certainly not what he’d worn when she’d seen him at the office.

  “Yes, I go over there for a run once or twice a week before work. It’s convenient to have a shower room in the office. You know the showers at work are for everyone, right?”

  “Of course.” She tried to allow relief to flow through her, relax muscles that were bunched in a fight-or-flight response. “I, um, hope to use them myself, once I’m more settled.”

  He looked her up and down, obviously taking in her more casual clothing.

  “I just left a yoga class.”

  He nodded. Totally believing her.

  “You can try out the new sauna I had installed last summer.”

  “I’m used to driving to the base gym for my shower and sauna. I haven’t found a place in town yet. It’ll be pure luxury to have it in the office.”

  “It might be a little over-the-top, but I do want to keep everyone who works for me happy.” Paul seemed pleased with her observation. She’d never been an ass-kisser, a “smack” in Navy parlance, and hated to start now. But if it kept him unaware of her actions of the moment, she’d take the hit. There’d be time to explain herself later, after she got the information Brad needed to close his operation.