Bishop reached into his jacket for his weapon. Carter appeared alarmed and stopped him from removing the gun. Jetta caught Hunter's extended hand then glared at Bishop. That was the last thing she needed.
“Hunter is on a firearm free diet.”
“What she means is--I'm not allowed to handle weapons in fear I may accidentally shoot someone,” Hunter remarked then glared his disapproval at Jetta. “Despite that I've never shot anyone accidentally in my life.”
“Not my rules, Hunter. Speak to the admiral,” she said sternly.
Carter appeared equally annoyed with Bishop. “And we don't pass guns around inside the hotel.”
Bishop frowned, pulled his jacket open, and allowed Hunter to see the holstered gun. Hunter eyed it from across the table.
“Impressive,” Hunter remarked with an approving nod. “Browning Hi Power 9MM pistol. MI5 British Intelligence.” He looked at Jetta and grinned. “James Bond.”
“How do you know that?” Bishop asked.
“I know my weapons, Mr. Kane,” Hunter replied. “That's the real thing too. Is it registered?” Hunter suddenly cringed and looked at Jetta with surprise and possible annoyance. “Why did you kick me?”
“Getting a little personal there, Hunter?” Bishop remarked.
“That's why,” Jetta muttered to Hunter.
Hunter wasn't impressed and appeared matter-of-fact with her. “He's hardly a professional hit man, Jetta,” he retorted. “The gun hasn't been fired or even cleaned in months. No professional would disrespect his firearm that way.”
All three stared at Hunter with surprised looks.
“Meaning what?” Carter asked.
“He carries it for protection with little intent to use it,” Hunter informed them. “Much like the condom in his wallet.”
Bishop stared at him with surprise or possible embarrassment. “Excuse me?”
“When you had your wallet out earlier, I'd noticed your condom had expired over nine months ago,” Hunter replied. “They do have a shelf life. That means you haven't had intercourse since--” Hunter suddenly yelped and looked at Jetta. “Why did you kick me again?”
Jetta glared her response.
Hunter studied her expression and appeared to understand. “Oh--” He looked back at Bishop. “I'm sorry. That was rude of me.”
“You're very observant, Hunter,” Carter announced with an uneasy laugh.
“Yes, it gets me kicked a lot.”
“Saying things out loud is what gets you kicked,” Jetta muttered.
“Discretion, I forgot,” he replied then looked at Carter with a slightly humored expression. “My mind betrays me. Last week I called Jetta mommy.”
Carter smiled and chuckled.
“We need to get going. Thanks for the drinks,” Jetta said to Carter.
“I wouldn't mind another brandy,” Hunter casually informed her while raising his glass and casting a look at Tyler behind the bar. “They serve the good stuff here.”
“I think you've had enough.”
As Tyler was about to approach with the bottle of brandy, Jetta firmly motioned him away. He was a little too quick with the bottle of brandy, she thought. Tyler frowned and returned to the bar.
Hunter looked at Jetta with concern. “Am I slipping?”
“Just a little.”
He immediately looked at Carter and smiled politely. “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Braxton.”
All four stood.
Hunter extended his hand to Bishop in an attempt to be polite. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Kane.”
Bishop eyed him suspiciously then shook his hand. Jetta turned to Hunter, took the gun from him, and returned it to Bishop. Bishop appeared stunned and uncertainly accepted his gun. Hunter was really good at lifting things, especially things he coveted. She knew his flaws, and it annoyed him to no end.
“We really need to go,” Jetta announced firmly.
“How about dinner tonight?” Carter asked her.
“I should probably stay home tonight.”
“Then how about tomorrow night?”
“That's not a good idea right now,” Jetta informed him. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course.”
She hurried Hunter from the lounge. Tyler grinned slyly at Hunter, almost as if indicating he knew he was in trouble. Hunter smirked in return and secretly gave him the middle finger. Tyler laughed and shook his head as they left. As Jetta and Hunter entered the lobby, she linked onto his arm and slowed her pace. There was a long silence. Hunter was contemplating if he was in trouble or not. With Jetta, it was sometimes hard to tell. It wasn't her fault. Since she was technically a woman, there would be times he didn't understand her. She should have been a boy; then he wouldn't have to be so polite around her all the time.
“It's my fault, isn't it?” he finally asked.
“What's that?”
“You turning down a date with Carter.”
“I turned down a date with Carter, because I don't want to go out with him,” she stated flatly.
“Why not? He's rich and handsome.”
“He's old enough to be my father, and his daughter is my age. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Yes, and she hates both of us,” Hunter muttered.
“As much as I'd like to date him just to spite her, I'm not the least bit attracted to him. He gives me most of my off-season work too. When it doesn't work out, he may realize it's just as easy to charter a boat.”
She knew Hunter wanted to see her happily dating. He was routinely on a mission to get her into the dating scene. Sometimes, she wondered if he wasn't just trying to get her out of the house for whatever his reason. Her mere presence hindered his devious nature, of this, she was certain.
“I suppose that is best,” he replied then swiftly changed the subject to something more amusing for him. “Was it just me or did you find the sexual tension back there staggering?” Hunter asked with a quizzical look.
“Actually, I thought Carter was behaving for a change.”
“No, not Carter. I was talking about Bishop. With the lustful way he kept looking at you, I feared for your virginity.”
“I think you're losing your instincts, Hunter,” Jetta informed him. “Bishop has little interest in me.”
She certainly would notice if someone like Bishop was interested in her. Truth was Bishop wasn't interested in dating anyone. It was a well-known fact. To her knowledge, he'd never even hit on any women. Perhaps it was because he was too busy insulting them. She was convinced he was only really in love with himself anyway. It was the only explanation.
“Ah, so you're attracted to him too?” he teased and suggestively raised his brows. Hunter enjoyed watching Jetta squirm. It was a difficult task getting her flustered, but he was convinced someone had to do it.
“I'm not attracted to Bishop,” she scoffed and tried not to entertain the thought in front of Hunter. She didn't want that image from the lobby infecting her mind again. It already got her into enough trouble. “He's like a rash that won't go away.”
“He's definitely going to need some fresh condoms before you two start dating,” he announced with a deep sigh and completely ignored her entire statement. “I'm not ready to start changing diapers.”
Jetta glared at Hunter then smirked. “Now you're just messing with me for your own amusement.”
Hunter chuckled softly and patted her hand on his arm. “I'm easily amused these days.”
“After six glasses of brandy, I'd say you're half lit.”
“Who said anything about six glasses? I had two while you were gone. Ask Tyler.”
“I did,” she replied. “He said you had two, which means you had twice that much, and then another two with us. That makes six.”
Hunter looked at her and frowned his disapproval. “I don't like when you act like me,” he remarked. “It's very unattractive.”
Chapter Seven
Barb and Stan Zion's renovated farmhouse w
as nestled alongside their landscaping shop, which resembled a large hanger with an office. The pristine property had a large greenhouse, lavish flowerbeds, a gazebo, fishpond, and amazing landscaping. A massive rose trellis cascaded down the side of the house from the second story and was the envy of every gardener in Winter Harbor. The sheriff's cruiser pulled up to the house. As Palmer and Styles got out of the car, an attractive sixteen-year-old girl, Teresa Zion, appeared from the house and stepped onto the porch. Teresa stood and impressive 5’9” and was the heartthrob of every boy in town. She had long, blonde hair and big blue eyes. In a few years, she would almost certainly be Lee's rival.
“Evening, Sheriff,” Teresa said cheerfully then looked at Styles with a lustful grin. “Deputy Styles--”
“Hey, Teresa,” Palmer replied casually. “Are your folks home?”
“No, they went to work on Doc's landscaping.”
Palmer approached the house while Styles remained near the car. The sheriff looked back at him and appeared curious.
“You coming?”
Styles appeared tense while attempting to act casual. “No, I'm good. I'll, uh, just wait here.”
Palmer shook his head then approached Teresa on the porch.
“Can I get you some iced tea, Sheriff?” Teresa asked and again looked at Styles and smiled sweetly. “Deputy?”
Styles managed a smile and gave a wave of no thanks.
“No, we're kind of in the middle of something,” Palmer informed her. “There was an accident over at Albright's place. Did you happen to hear anything?”
“No. What sort of accident?”
“Ted's mail truck hit their porch.”
“Is Ted okay?”
“That's what we're trying to figure out,” Palmer remarked. “We've got a bunch of cars, but no one's home. No one came by for help?”
“No. I've been home all day.”
“Shouldn't you have been at school?” he asked sternly.
Teresa fidgeted then smiled timidly. “Headache.”
“Yeah, from the smell of booze, I can understand that,” Palmer casually remarked. “I'll discuss that with your parents later.”
Teresa immediately tensed and subconsciously played with her small, gold hoop earring. Her seductive attitude quickly drained away, transforming her back into a little girl. “I may have some information for you, if you promise not to say anything to my parents about the drinking,” she quickly offered.
“I'm listening.”
“Brian Fitch's car is at their house a lot when Dennis leaves,” Teresa timidly informed him. “Last night, it was parked in the woods when I went for a walk, but I thought it was odd that Dennis' car was still at the house.”
“What about when you came home from the tail gaiting party in the woods?” Palmer questioned.
Teresa's expression dropped with surprise that he somehow knew what they were doing last night. She fidgeted and attempted to compose herself. “Brian's car was gone.”
“Consider this a warning, Teresa,” Palmer firmly scolded. “Next time I find out you and your friends are drinking, I'll do more than talk to your parents. You're smarter than this.” Palmer turned to leave then suddenly paused and turned back to her. “And stop hitting on my deputy. You can do better.” Palmer approached the cruiser and eyed Styles with disapproval. “I know these country girls can be a bit of a culture shock to you city boys, but the next time she hits on you, speak up.”
“It's not just her, it's all of them,” Styles protested. “There must be something in the water.”
Palmer grinned deviously and chuckled softly. “I'm guessing it's what's in the uniform.”
†
Cross' beach house appeared isolated on the beach and far from anyone. Even during tourist season, there was little activity on that particular stretch of beach. The beach was broken up by a large rock formation detaching it from the tourist spots located around the hotel. Wealthy locals, who valued their privacy, owned the few homes that resided along that stretch of beach. Jetta and Hunter sat on the porch with cups of tea before them. Jetta watched the ocean as the sun set while Hunter read a book.
“You don't have to baby-sit me, Jetta,” Hunter casually informed her while seemingly engrossed in his book. “You can go out with your friends.”
“I'm not baby-sitting. I'm keeping you company.”
“Ergo--baby-sitting.”
“Desmond has to work late, so I have nowhere to go anyway. Why are you trying to get rid of me? Building a bomb in the basement?”
Hunter didn't bother looking up from his book. “Don't be silly,” he announced simply. “We don't have a basement.”
Jetta glared her disapproval. She didn't understand his perverse pleasure in tormenting her. There were times she had difficulty telling his lucid moments from his fits of insanity. She sometimes wondered if he was playing her.
“Besides, I haven't blown up anything since, well, me.”
She couldn't even look at him after that comment. Jetta hated being reminded of his near death experience. There were several weeks while he was in the coma that they didn't even know if he would survive. His wife abandoned ship at ‘possible brain damage’, and her father drank himself into depression. Ironically, when her life fell apart, Desmond stepped in and brought order to the chaos that surrounded her. He proved he was capable of taking charge even if he rarely applied it to his own life.
Hunter looked at her over his small reading glasses. “I hate to think I'm the reason you don't have more fun.”
Jetta snapped out of her trance and looked at him. She hated to tell him that her lack of dating didn't have anything to do him. Perhaps, in part, it did. She grew up in Navy Seal central. Her father's men were the end-all-be-all of mankind. She idolized her father, Hunter, and their entire team from a young age. How could any man possibly compare to them?
Hunter casually returned to his book. “Lord knows I had my share of fun. Of course, had I known Caroline would leave me while I was in a coma, I may have reconsidered that Bangkok massage parlor invite.” Hunter looked up and reflected thoughtfully. “Imagine; I could have been out there contracting venereal diseases with the rest of the boys. Such a shame.” Hunter sighed, shut his book, and removed his glasses. “I'm suddenly in the mood for Chinese.”
Jetta eyed him then grinned. “Food or women?”
“I suppose we could start with the food and hope the latter follows,” he replied then chuckled softly.
“We'll take a ride out to the mainland tomorrow and see if we can find a little of each for you.” Jetta considered her comment then stared off a moment. Just because she didn't date, that didn't mean he shouldn't enjoy himself. Her expression turned serious as she looked back at him. “You know, if you're lonely, I'm sure Ziggy could find you some temporary company.”
Hunter tried not to laugh. Temporary company, paid for or free, wasn't really his style, but he enjoyed letting her think he had stud potential. “Not that lonely, Jetta. But I appreciate the offer.” He replaced his glasses and returned to his book, although he was too distracted by inappropriate thoughts to concentrate. “Who's that cute Asian housekeeper?”
“Ming? She's widowed and has a six-year-old daughter. I think she has enough on her plate at the moment.”
“So she doesn't need a mildly insane, fifty-two-year-old commando in her life?” he asked quizzically. “Must be something wrong with her. I'm both domesticated and housebroken.”
Jetta stood and hugged Hunter around the neck from behind. “Her loss. I'll happily keep you all to myself.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Hunter set his book down and clung to her arms around his neck. “I can't imagine why you want me, but I'm glad you do.”
Jetta moved around his chair and collapsed onto his lap. He teasingly let out a painful groan.
“I don't remember a time when you weren't in my life, Hunter,” she said with a sigh and rested against him while staring out at the ocean.
“Prob
ably because you were still a twinkle in your father's eyes when we first met,” he teased while holding her.
“I'd sit on your lap and you'd tell me stories.”
“Then your father would yell at me because you had nightmares afterwards.”
“You bought me my first semiautomatic.”
Hunter nodded with a reflective smile. “Yes, I remember. You shot me in the foot.”
“Scars build character.”
“You say that every time I'm shot,” he informed her. “I have a little too much character as it is.”
“Then it works. See, I was right,” she teased. Her look turned serious. “One day other people will appreciate you as I do. I just wish I didn't have to constantly defend you to you.”
“Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do. You don't know who I was--what I did.”
“I know all I need to know, which is more than you think I know. Besides, I know who you are to me. Nothing else matters.”
“I guess I've had quite a bit of influence on your life growing up,” Hunter said as he held her against him. “If your mother was alive today,” he remarked with a reflective sigh, “she'd undoubtedly smack the hell out of me.”
Chapter Eight
The vast countryside was peaceful at night as it usually was outside Zion's farmhouse. Several interior lights were on, indicating the occupants were still up despite the late hour. The tastefully decorated living room was moderately outdated and not nearly as impressive as the exterior. Stan sat on his lounge chair reading the paper, while Barb relaxed on the sofa with her needlepoint. Teresa entered the living room and hugged her father from behind.
“I'm going to bed,” she announced then smiled deviously. “You kids behave.”
“Night, dear,” Stan replied.
“Good night, Teresa.”
Teresa headed for the stairs and hurried up them.
“I wonder what happened next door,” Barb remarked.
“Well, knowing Pam, she probably poisoned Dennis to be with that pig, Brian,” Stan bluntly informed her without looking up from his paper. “Poor, old Ted probably saw something he shouldn't have and needed to be taken out.”
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