Cover of Night

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Cover of Night Page 11

by Laura Griffin


  “How are you?” Josh leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “It’s been, what, three weeks now?”

  “Five.”

  He winced. “Wow. Doesn’t seem like that long, does it?”

  Karly bit her tongue. It was that or tell him to screw himself. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

  “We understand Natalie Mancuso was released from the hospital today.”

  Karly didn’t say anything. Natalie had spent the past four weeks in Palm Springs at a combination rehab and mental hospital for the über-rich. It was a place where movie stars went to recover from drug or sex addiction, a place where young pop singers went after they collapsed from “exhaustion” and canceled their concert tours.

  Natalie was being treated for a host of physical and mental issues, and Karly had no doubt Tony had chosen the place because it was known for its discretion.

  And yet Josh had found out that Natalie Mancuso had not only stayed there but had been released.

  “She’s had some time to recover,” Josh said. “We’re thinking things might be more favorable now.”

  “Favorable?” Karly looked at Jana.

  “In terms of approaching her,” Josh said.

  “Approaching her?”

  Jana smiled, knowing Karly was being intentionally obtuse. But she couldn’t help it. She could not believe they were having this conversation.

  “We think now would be a good time to approach her about an interview,” Jana said.

  “An exclusive for Pacifica,” Josh added, as if Karly needed clarification.

  She looked down at her lap, trying to choose her words wisely. The words she wanted to use would definitely get her fired.

  “I very much doubt she’d be interested,” Karly said. “Now or ever.”

  Josh tipped his head to the side. “What about Mancuso, then? He could probably talk her into it. From what I hear, he feels like he owes you one. He might be amenable to a request, if it came from you.”

  Karly leaned forward and met Josh’s gaze. “Anthony Mancuso’s daughter was beaten and gang-raped. I don’t think he’ll be amenable to anyone putting her in the spotlight to talk about that.”

  “Yes, but we’re print,” Josh said, “so we’ve got a better shot than TV.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Karly told him. “I’m sure he won’t hear of it.”

  Karly was sure he wouldn’t hear of it because there was no way on earth she would ever ask him such a thing. And that probably made her a crappy reporter, but still. She wouldn’t do it.

  “Well, then . . .” Josh shot a look at Jana. “We’ll have to move on to our runner-up idea. You can ask your SEALs for an interview.”

  Her SEALs? Karly managed not to snort. She wasn’t sure what was more laughable, that the SEALs who’d rescued her would agree to be interviewed or that they in some way belonged to her.

  Karly stood up. She knew better than to refuse two assignments in one meeting, so she forced a smile. “They might be reluctant, but I can certainly ask them.”

  “Good.” Josh nodded. “Let me know when you’ve set it up.”

  She darted a look at Jana, who was suspiciously quiet. Maybe she knew Karly had no intention of setting up anything.

  “Absolutely,” Karly said. “Good night.”

  She took the elevator down, fuming the whole way. The anger that had been on a low simmer ever since she’d returned to the States was beginning to boil. For years, she’d been her magazine’s go-to girl. She always delivered, never disappointed. Now her boss was definitely going to be disappointed, and Karly couldn’t bring herself to give a shit.

  She crossed the lobby and pushed through the revolving door of the sleek downtown building. She remembered how excited she’d felt arriving here for her first day of work. Now every time she came in, she couldn’t wait to leave.

  Karly was starting to hate her job. Not just the job itself but the entire profession. She was starting to loathe all of it. How much longer could she do this? Why didn’t she just quit and go look for a job as some congressman’s PR flack?

  She hurried down the steps, stopping short on the final one as she noticed the man standing on the sidewalk in front of her. He was leaning against a dusty black Jeep, watching her, and even from a distance, Karly could see the gleam in his eye.

  The breath backed up in her lungs. She couldn’t move. He moved instead, pushing off the Jeep and walking toward her, those impossibly blue eyes locked on her face.

  She should have called him. She could have avoided this whole face-to-face encounter with only a conversation. But she’d been too much of a wimp. She hadn’t wanted to hear his voice. She hadn’t wanted to hear that low, masculine tone that was so good at getting her to do things.

  Come on, baby. Now. Now.

  He stopped right in front of her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Good God, he was really here. “How did you find me?”

  He smiled slightly. “Bumped into Drew a few minutes ago. He said you were packing up.”

  “Why did you find me?”

  The smile flickered but stayed in place. “I wanted to ask you to dinner.”

  “Dinner.”

  “That’s right.”

  Only dinner? No way. Karly looked into his eyes and knew dinner was the least of what he wanted.

  “I know a good Italian place,” he said.

  She stepped onto the sidewalk, then realized her mistake when she had to tip her head back to look at him. He was so much more . . . everything than she remembered. More masculine. More commanding. More impossible to resist.

  His smile kicked up a notch, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Don’t worry, it’s casual. They’ve got the best calzones you ever put in your mouth.”

  Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Calzones? So maybe he did want dinner.

  She gazed up at those blue eyes that had swept over every inch of her skin when she’d been naked, and she felt a hot pull of desire.

  He eased closer. “Will you have dinner with me, Karly?”

  There were so many reasons to say no. Dozens. She’d spent days coming up with a very long list, but now that she was with him, every one of those reasons deserted her.

  “I don’t have much time left,” he said.

  Not much time left. That was one of the reasons.

  He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Please?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  A look of relief came over his face, as though her answer had ever been in doubt.

  Dear Lord, what was she doing?

  “You mind riding in the Jeep?” he asked. “I’ve got the top down.”

  “That’s fine.” She spotted her car in the parking lot. “As long as you don’t mind dropping me off here after dinner. I’ve got some work to do tonight.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Let me just put this in my car.”

  She led him to her Audi in the second row. She fished her wallet from her computer bag. It had a wrist strap, which made it easy to carry. Then she stashed her computer in the trunk so she wouldn’t have to schlep it around, along with the blazer she’d worn to her interview this morning. Ethan was in jeans and a T-shirt, so it had to be casual.

  She cast a sidelong glance at him as she locked her car. He didn’t seem at all bothered by her mention of working later. Maybe he really did only want dinner.

  “It’s not a bad night to have the top down,” he said as they walked to his Jeep.

  He helped her inside, holding her elbow. A little easier than when he’d helped her inside the helo.

  Then he closed the door and stared at her for a long moment.

  “What?” she asked, smoothing her hair.

  “Nothing.” He shook h
is head. “I’m just so freaking glad you said yes.”

  TEN

  * * *

  They drove without talking, and the noise of the wind kept it from being awkward. He glanced at her in his passenger seat, and she pretended not to notice. He wended his way through downtown and then headed north up the coast.

  Ethan downshifted as he eased around a curve and came out on a bluff overlooking the ocean. They passed an Italian restaurant where valet attendants were parking Porsches and Mercedes-Benzes, and Karly had a moment of worry over her attire. But they sailed right past the fancy restaurant and continued along the road until the pavement petered out at a wooden fence. Ethan pulled into a gravel lot and parked.

  “This is it?” She glanced around.

  “Yep.” He hopped out and went around to her door, but she’d already climbed out.

  Luciano’s Café was located on the north side of a shack overlooking the beach. The other side was a surf shop that advertised everything from Sex Wax to wakeboards.

  Ethan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said it was casual. The place didn’t even have a door. People were ordering at a counter and eating their food at picnic tables facing the water.

  “What’s good here?” she asked.

  “Everything. I always get the meat lovers’.”

  “Hmm . . .” She gazed up at the menu board. “I’ll have a three-cheese calzone.” She pulled an icy Corona from the cooler beside her and plunked it on the counter.

  Had he bought her story about having to work later? It wasn’t an excuse—she really did have a deadline in the morning. But drinking a beer now probably wasn’t helping her credibility.

  I’m so freaking glad you said yes. The words burned in her mind as he paid the bill and led her to an empty picnic table.

  She sat down, and he took the bench across from her.

  “Great view,” she said, looking around nervously. The surfers were long gone, but plenty of people were still out strolling along the shore.

  She looked directly into Ethan’s vivid blue eyes and forced herself to hold his gaze.

  “I meant to call you back, but . . .”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, I should have called back. It was rude. I—”

  “Forget it.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and she looked down at those muscular arms. The claw marks she’d left there had healed.

  “I’ve been wondering how you are,” he said.

  Something in his expression made her skin flush. “I’m okay.”

  He watched her steadily. She remembered the look from their conversation on the balcony.

  “Did you go see someone?”

  A therapist, he meant. He’d made her promise to talk to someone, and she’d fully intended to blow him off. But to her surprise, she couldn’t. He’d done so much for her. He’d saved her life, and blowing off the one thing she’d promised him felt like a betrayal.

  “I did,” she said.

  He watched her closely, but he didn’t pry. Maybe he was trying to read whether she was telling the truth.

  “Really, I did. The FBI agent who debriefed me here gave me a referral. Some doctor she knows . . .” Karly trailed off, not really wanting to go into it.

  “Is it helping?” he asked.

  “Some.”

  His expression sharpened, and she could see he knew she was lying.

  She looked down at his arms again. She thought about him hauling her into that helicopter and how she’d never been so shocked in her life. She’d found herself surrounded by jacked-up warriors, with Ethan’s arms so tight around her she could hardly breathe.

  She gazed into his eyes now, and the heated look there reminded her of their night together and how she’d been breathless then for an entirely different reason. How weird that the worst moments of her life and the best moments of her life were so closely intertwined.

  Karly realized he’d picked up her hand, and she hadn’t even noticed. That was how scrambled her brain was around him.

  “Karly—” His name came over the speaker, and he closed his eyes briefly. “Be right back.”

  He got up to get their order, and Karly watched him go. She took a deep breath.

  Whoa.

  She’d had no idea how hard it would be to see him and not cave into everything he wanted. And she knew exactly what he wanted, because she wanted it, too. But she couldn’t do that to herself. She had to be strong. One night alone together, and she’d gotten so attached. Anything more, and she’d be an emotional wreck.

  Sleeping with him was a onetime thing. As much as she might have secretly wished otherwise, the realist inside her knew better. He’d rescued her from a hostage situation. They’d shared a connection. A night together. The end.

  But the words turned her stomach. Why couldn’t it be more? Why couldn’t it be a beginning?

  No! It was a fling. Accept reality, and move on.

  The problem with accepting reality? Her feelings. The way her heart had turned over when she heard his phone message. I want to see how you are. And the way her blood heated whenever he looked at her with those intense blue eyes.

  Of course, SEALs were intense by nature. They were that way with everyone, weren’t they? Nothing special about her.

  Karly watched him pick up their baskets. Then a pretty brunette waylaid him on his way back to the table. And wasn’t that interesting? From the way the woman smiled and touched his arm, Karly could tell they knew each other as more than passing acquaintances.

  She turned to look at the beach, ignoring the pinch of jealousy.

  Okay, it was more than a pinch.

  Which made no sense, because she had absolutely zero claim on this man.

  Which brought her back to her original point: she wasn’t going to do this to herself. The last thing she needed was some long-distance relationship. Or worse, some arrangement where she felt like she was strapped into a relationship and he felt free to move about the cabin.

  Nope. Been there, done that. Never again.

  Ethan set their baskets on the table, and Karly smiled up at him. He had a wary look in his eyes, as though he’d noticed her noticing the brunette.

  Perfect time to change the subject.

  “So.” She sipped her beer. “The FBI stopped by to see me today.”

  That got his attention. “Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “Evidently, they’re reinterviewing some of the hostages. They seem to think at least one ACB guy might have evaded capture.”

  “One did.” Ethan’s jaw tensed. “We think he got out by boat during our initial strike.” He shook his head.

  “It’s not your fault. There were only four of you. It’s not like any of you could be in two places at once.”

  But Ethan seemed unmoved by her words. “What about the guy?”

  “Agent Mays seems to think—”

  “Alexa?” His brows tipped up.

  “You know her?”

  He nodded. “I met her during an investigation last summer. Ryan’s fiancée was kidnapped.”

  “Ryan . . . as in the Ryan I met?”

  “Ryan Owen, yeah. It was all part of this op that went sideways.” He shook his head. “Long story.”

  He picked up his beer, and Karly watched him, trying to picture his big, tough SEAL teammate actually proposing to someone. It was even harder to picture him married. She wanted to know more about the op that went sideways, but she knew he wouldn’t tell her the details.

  “So what did Mays say?” Ethan asked.

  “She seems to think the one who got away is someone who came to the island posing as a tourist to scope things out just before the attack. She thinks he’s some key figure in the organization. They believe he has an American passport and that maybe he’s planning another attack.”
/>
  Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What does Mays want with you?”

  “A description, mostly. I talked to this guy, so they think I can help ID him.”

  Ethan’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward. “You talked to Tango X?”

  A chill skated over her skin. “She called him Mr. X.”

  “Same thing. You’re telling me you actually fucking met the guy?”

  “Well . . . yeah. At least if he’s the one they’re thinking of.”

  * * *

  Ethan stared at her, wishing she’d shake her head or tell him no, that he had it all wrong.

  But she didn’t. Karly was sitting here telling him she’d met face-to-face with one of the most notorious terrorists on the planet.

  “How the hell did you cross paths—”

  “He walked over and struck up a conversation,” she said. “He was posing as a tourist, and he was very convincing. I didn’t think anything of it.”

  Ethan’s gut clenched. “And they’re sure this is the guy? Tango X? The FBI is certain?”

  “Well, not certain. But everything lines up. He called himself Tom Green, and there’s no record of anyone by that name at the resort. And I was at the FBI field office today looking at mug shots. Apparently, investigators have been talking to people, and I’m not the only one who saw a tourist fitting this description at the Sapphire the day of the attack.”

  “Tom Green? That’s really what he called himself?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “It’s generic. Totally forgettable. It’s the perfect alias.”

  Ethan raked his hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe this. Karly had met the man. Actually had a conversation with him.

  Tango X, aka Mr. X, one of the most wanted terrorists in the world. Ethan had been hearing about him for years, but he’d never personally met anyone who’d so much as laid eyes on the man. Some SEALs believed he didn’t really exist, that he was some composite bad guy invented by the intelligence community to explain a bunch of dead-end leads.

  And Karly had talked to the man.

  She leaned forward. “You know him?”

 

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