Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  He laughed, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and respect. "Hell, you're not afraid to get right to the heart of the matter, are you?"

  Lucy raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms in front of her. "Was I supposed to pretend I didn't notice you having some kind of morning-after anxiety attack?"

  "Well, I don't know. Yeah. Most women would…"

  "I was just supposed to let you walk away because sud­denly you're uncomfortable with the fact that last night we got naked and had sex— great sex, I might add." Lucy glared at him. "You honestly expected me to just throw away your friendship? Forget it, McCoy. I can deal with your thinking that I might overreact. It's probably been your poor, pathetic experience that 'most women' do. But thinking I would just ditch your friendship... that hurts."

  "I'm sorry," he said, and he actually looked as if he was. "It's just... I've never slept with a... a friend before. This is a new one for me. I'm not sure what to say to you... or what to do."

  "You could say, 'Good morning, Lucy. Gee, you really rocked my world last night,'" she told him. She took the loaf of bread from the bread box on the counter and tossed it to him with a touch more force than necessary. "And then you could make your damned toast so we could get to work finding out who killed Gerry.”

  Blue sat in Lucy's truck and watched her drive. Going to Jenny Lee's hadn't given them any more answers.

  No, Gerry didn't seem to have any enemies. Yes, his be­havior had been odd over the past several days, but Jenny had believed it was due to Blue's impending arrival. Busi­ness had been picking up for his construction company over the past year. Gerry had had a number of projects in devel­opment and several in progress. Money was coming in and going out on a regular basis. His staff were all steadily em­ployed; in fact, he'd had to hire carpenters and construc­tion workers from an employment agency for a recent job.

  A search of Gerry's office had provided no additional information. Nothing was unusual about any of his current projects. His files were all in order, his desk free from any mention or warning of any threats. His date book had no appointments circled in red saying "lunch with killers."

  Gerry had had a normal amount of business meetings listed in his date book. Lucy had gone painstakingly through all the different names, matching them to his current proj­ects. Some of them were clients he was wooing. And some of them were social appointments. He'd had lunch with Jenny Lee frequently, and he'd also apparently recently joined the Hatboro Creek Men's Club, R. W. Fisher's invi­tation-only elite organization that took on community pro­jects. According to Gerry's notes, they were currently raising money to repair the roof of the county hospital.

  No, this trip to the house that Gerry had shared with Jenny Lee hadn't provided any answers. However, it had raised some new questions for Blue.

  Such as, why exactly was Lucy Tait going to all this trou­ble for him? Why had she slept with him last night? What did she really want? If there was one thing Blue had learned in life, it was that most people had motives for every little thing they did. What was Lucy's motive here?

  She'd said she was helping him out of friendship, that she'd slept with him because she'd wanted to, no strings at tached. But Blue found that hard to believe. Of course, he was suspicious by nature. Since he was small he'd had only himself to rely on. Trusting other people meant risking pain, so he'd learned to trust no one.

  But then he'd become a SEAL, and he'd literally had to put his life in his teammates' hands. He'd learned to trust the men in his squad and unit, and that trust had grown deep and strong, bonded by friendship and loyalty.

  SEALs had no ulterior motives, at least not beyond unit integrity. Sure, they had career drives and personal goals, but in the heat of battle, in the midst of an operation, get­ting the job done and getting everyone out alive and in one piece became the single motivating force.

  Lucy Tait wasn't a SEAL, but she said she was his friend.

  He had to smile when he remembered her direct confron­tation in the kitchen this morning. He had to hand it to her; she was tough. He himself would jump into a fistfight without a moment's hesitation, but if the battle was an emotional one, he'd do all that he could to beat a retreat. Lucy, instead, had attacked.

  Blue was glad that she had. Even though they'd gotten nowhere with their investigation by talking to Jenny Lee, he was glad Lucy hadn't let him walk away, glad he was sitting here next to her in her truck.

  He liked having Lucy for a friend. It was odd—she was a woman, yet she was his friend. Even odder was the fact that they'd had incredibly intense sex last night, and this morn­ing Lucy, somehow, was still his friend.

  Blue couldn't remember ever having had a sexual experi­ence as powerful. She had rocked his world last night. So why the hell had he backed away this morning? Why had he allowed the night to end? Why hadn't he stayed in her bed? They could have been there still, up in her bedroom, mak­ing love all day long. He could have been holding her, kiss­ing her, gazing into her beautiful eyes, commanding her complete and total attention as he told her stories of the operations he'd been on, the high-risk missions he'd com­pleted.

  Why had he backed away?

  Because he always backed away. He hadn't even consid­ered the possibility of sticking around, of turning their one-night stand into a longer affair. He hadn't known that Lucy could still be his friend after becoming his lover. He simply hadn't known.

  But could they honestly be friends during the day and lovers at night? Could that really work?

  Something about it didn't sit right with him. Now that he'd had time to think about it, he felt as if he were taking advantage of her. It seemed as if he were using her. And he wouldn't—couldn't—do that to a friend.

  It would probably be best if they kept sex out of their friendship. It wouldn't be easy, not with the memories of last night crashing into him every time he looked in Lucy's direction. No, it wouldn't be easy, but it would be the right thing to do.

  Maybe Lucy was telling the truth and she was helping him find Gerry's killer purely out of friendship. If that was so, the least he could do was treat her with an equal respect.

  Blue watched Lucy as she drove. She handled her big truck with the same air of calm confidence that she han­dled damn near everything. She wasn't wearing her uni­form—she couldn't now that she'd resigned from the police force. Instead, she had on her worn-out blue jeans and cowboy boots and a plain T-shirt—white, cotton, no frills. Damn, but she looked good.

  She glanced over, as if she felt him watching her. "What do you say we go over and talk to Matt Parker before lunch?"

  Matt Parker. The "witness" who had "seen" Blue argu­ing with Gerry in the woods off Gate's Hill Road moments before Gerry's death. He had also been one of the joyrid-ing dirt bikers who had obscured the tire tracks Blue had found. Blue nodded and smiled tightly. He definitely wanted to have a little talk with Parker. "Yeah."

  Lucy looked at him again, concern darkening her eyes. "Just a talk, McCoy," she said. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  He met her gaze evenly. "He's not going to tell us any­thing new unless we use a new approach. Like scaring the devil out of him."

  "And if he turns around and calls Chief Bradley with an assault complaint, there's nothing I could do to keep you out of jail," Lucy countered. "And you know as well as I do that Travis Southeby is itching for a reason to lock you up."

  Lucy could see real frustration in Blue's eyes.

  "Why bother talking to Parker at all?" he asked.

  "Because somebody is paying him to say what he's say­ing," she said, "and I'm betting no matter how much money he's making, he's feeling lousy about having to lie. I'm betting he won't be able to look you in the eye, because deep down he's probably a decent man, and he knows his story is a solid part of the case they're building against you."

  "And you think he's going to take one look at me and confess?" Blue's voice dripped with skepticism.

  "No," Lucy said calmly. "I think we
're going to go over there, and he's going to stick to his story, and we're going to leave. And then he's not going to be able to sleep tonight, because he's going to be thinking about his words sending an innocent man to prison."

  Blue laughed. "Get real, Pollyanna," he said. "He's gonna spend the evening counting his blood money and drinking himself into a stupor. The fate of my sorry ass won't even drift across his soggy mind."

  "He may not even let us in the door," Lucy admitted. "But we have to try." She pulled her truck to a stop outside the Parkers' little bungalow. "After lunch, I want to go up to Gate's Hill Road and start canvassing the neighborhood. Somebody had to see or hear something unusual that night."

  "And if nobody did?"

  She met his gaze evenly. "Then we're going to check mo­tor-vehicle registration records, find a list of all the owners of trucks with oversized tires. We'll go check 'em all out, find out whose tires still have new treads. And if that doesn't give us a lead, we'll get a copy of the guest list for that country-club party and go and talk to every single person on it. I still want to find out if Gerry was only pretending to be drunk at the party. Someone somewhere knows some­thing."

  Blue's face softened as he smiled at her. "You're not go­ing to give up on this, are you, Yankee?"

  Lucy shook her head. "No." He should know that she wasn't going to give up on this case—or on him. If she could endure that visit with Jenny Lee Beaumont, she could han­dle just about anything. Shoot, watching Blue put his arms around Jenny in a comforting embrace had been deadly. And sitting there like that in Jenny Lee's picture-perfect living room had been awkward—Blue together with both his high-school sweetheart and his lover from last night. Of course, Jenny probably hadn't known that Lucy and Blue were lovers. But Lucy had, and it was weird.

  Lucy had expended a great deal of energy trying not to watch for signs of Blue's old chemistry with Jenny. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if Blue had closed his eyes and pictured himself making love to Jenny Lee last night. Lucy had had temporary possession of Blue's body, but Jenny probably still owned Blue's heart.

  Lucy would have given just about anything to have even a short-term lease on Blue's heart. But that wasn't going to happen. He'd made that more than clear this morning.

  The silence in the truck dragged on much longer than it should have as Lucy lost herself in the hot depths of Blue's eyes. He still wanted her. She could see desire swirling in among the blue. She could see it in the set of his jaw, in the tension in his lips. What had transpired between them last night hadn't been enough. He wanted more.

  But he turned away, clearly intent on denying himself even the warm pleasure of the memory of their lovemaking. Was it seeing Jenny Lee again? Lucy wondered. Could Blue's former girlfriend still have that much power over him? Lu­cy's stomach hurt. She'd told Blue just this morning that she was his friend. But she was his lover now, too. She knew that if he came to her room again tonight, she wouldn't be able to refuse him anything he wanted or needed. She loved him that much.

  But what about what Lucy needed?

  Blue looked out the windshield at Matt Parker's house and took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

  Chapter 12

  They were in luck. Little Tommy Parker answered the door and let them in the house.

  Lucy knew from the look in Matt Parker's eyes that he wouldn't even have opened the screen door to talk to them. But now they were here, in his tiny living room.

  She looked around. The furniture was shabby, but clean. In fact, the entire house looked well kept. The ancient or­ange shag carpeting had been recently vacuumed and the surfaces of the end tables were clear and free from dust and clutter.

  She could hear the sounds of Sunday dinner being cooked down the short hallway that led to the kitchen. Utensils banged against pots, and dishes clattered as a table was set. The fragrant smell of onions frying drifted out into the liv­ing room.

  Blue went farther into the room and turned off the TV that was on.

  "Travis told me he was handling this case now." Par­ker's eyes shifted from Lucy to Blue and then back. He was clearly remembering the fight outside the gas station. His nose was still swollen, and he touched it gingerly. "McCoy is not welcome in my house."

  "We just want to ask you some questions," Lucy said soothingly. "You don't have a reason to want to hide the truth from us, do you, Matt?"

  His eyes flicked back to Blue. "Of course not." He shifted slightly in his seat in a well-worn reclining chair. "But I an­swered all these questions already. My statement is down at the police station. Why don't you just get a copy of that, instead of bugging me again?"

  "Well, we do have a copy of your statement," Lucy said, carefully keeping her voice reasonable and calm. "How­ever, it raised an additional question or two, because Blue wasn't anywhere near Gate's Hill Road at the time you al­legedly saw him there with Gerry."

  Parker stood up. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

  "No, sir." Lucy gazed steadily at him. "You're too smart to get yourself into a situation where you'd have to perjure yourself in a court of law. You know the punishment for that can be a hefty fine along with jail time." She shook her head. "No, you're just mistaken about exactly what you saw. You must've seen someone else—not Blue. I'd like you to spend some time tonight thinking about it, because it would sure be a shame if your testimony sent an innocent man to prison, wouldn't it?"

  She turned, heading back toward the door, and from the corner of her eyes she saw a shadow in the hallway, near the kitchen. It was Matt's wife, Darlene, but she disappeared before Lucy could even say hello.

  "Let me know if you think of anything new," Lucy told Parker. She opened the front door and Blue followed her outside.

  She could feel Parker—or maybe it was Darlene—watch­ing them as they walked down the path to the street and her truck.

  "You did okay," Blue told her as they got into her truck. "You said just enough to make the guilt stick—provided Parker has a conscience."

  'Thanks,” Lucy put the truck in gear and headed back toward the main road. "You did okay, too."

  “I just stood there."

  “Exactly." She glanced at him, unable to hide a smile. "You didn't slam him against the wall and threaten to tear his throat out. I know that's what you wanted to do."

  His lips twitched upward into an answering smile. "I'm hurt and offended you could think such a thing, Yankee."

  "Am I wrong?"

  His smile became a grin. It transformed his face, making him look younger—and nearly paralyzingly handsome. "No, ma'am."

  Lucy had to laugh. But when their eyes met, something sparked, something molten, something hot and liquid and filled with the trembling echoes of last night. As he'd done before, Blue was the first to look away.

  Lucy turned her attention back to the road, trying not to care. Yet she couldn't help but feel disappointed. And she knew with a dreadful certainty exactly what she wanted, precisely what she needed.

  She needed Blue McCoy by her side for the rest of her life.

  Fat chance of that happening. But maybe if she played it right, she'd have Blue by her side again tonight. It was a pathetic substitute for what she really wanted, but it was all she could hope for.

  Except Blue was still clearly uncomfortable with the hazy definition of their relationship. Were they friends, or were they lovers? He didn't seem to understand that they could be both. He didn't seem to realize that the best of lovers al­ways were the best of friends, too.

  If only she had enough time, she could set him straight. But time was not on her side.

  Lucy glanced back at Blue, forcing a smile. "Come on, McCoy. Let's go knock on some doors up near Gate's Hill Road before lunch. Let's shake this town up. Maybe some­thing of interest will fall out."

  Dinner was over. The dishes had been cleaned up.

  Lucy had gone out onto the porch to look up at the night sky and get a breath of fresh air.

  Blue knew he shouldn
't follow her out there. He'd told himself at least a hundred times during dinner and proba­bly a thousand times during the course of the day that sex could not be a regular part of his relationship with Lucy. He respected her too much to use her that way. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from wanting her. And he did. He wanted her so badly it hurt. But he'd lived through pain be­fore. He could do it again.

  They'd talked about the investigation over dinner, going over and over the same facts again and again, trying to find whatever it was that they were missing, searching for some kind of lead.

  They'd learned nothing from their endless knocking on doors and questioning the folks who lived near the spot where Gerry had died. They'd learned nothing from Jenny Lee, nothing from Matt Parker.

  It was frustrating as hell.

  Blue picked up the phone and tried calling the naval base in California again. But Alpha Squad was still off base and the officer from Internal Affairs was still taking all calls. Blue tried to squash the frustration that rose inside him. He needed some serious help, yet here he was, on his own.

  Not entirely on his own—he had Lucy Tait on his side.

  Wanting desperately to see her warm, familiar smile, Blue pushed open the door and stepped outside onto the porch. He was coming out here to say good-night to her. Only to say good-night.

  She was sitting on the steps, looking at the stars. She glanced up when she heard the door and smiled. Blue felt simultaneously better and worse. Mercy, he wanted to make love to her again tonight.

  But he couldn't let himself. It wouldn't be right.

  He sat down dangerously close to her—on the steps in­stead of across the porch on the swing—even though he knew sparks were going to fly. But he was a demolitions ex­pert. He was used to handling volatile substances. He could sit here, close enough to breathe in Lucy's clean, fresh scent, and he could still find the strength to stand up and walk away from her. He knew he could.