by Lyn Stone
Joe found his swim trunks still clinging to one ankle and put them back on. By the time he did, she was decently dressed.
“I wish I could wash my face,” she muttered. “I’m a fright.”
“You look beautiful,” Joe argued. “Besides, everyone will be so glad to see you, they won’t care. But maybe Eric will let us out now so you can find a sink and freshen up.” He banged on the door with his fist.
A few seconds later, it opened. The salon was well lighted now and Vinland stood there grinning. “Humberto left the key in the lock probably so you couldn’t pick it. Our ETA’s about seven minutes. I was just about to give you a warning.”
Martine swept by him and disappeared into the head. Joe stood staring at the closed door, unwilling to spar with Vinland just yet. His mind still felt a little too numb to come up with anything clever. Or even remotely sensible.
“What happened, Joe?” Vinland asked.
The first thought Joe had was that he was asking about what had gone on in the cabin with Martine. Then he realized Eric meant what had gone down before that with Humberto.
He shook his head to clear it. “I had to take out the bodyguard with the dart as I came aboard. Thought it would improve the odds, but it didn’t. Humberto had the drop on us. He wanted the money in a different bag and sent Martine in to get one. She put the bomb inside it and the money on top.”
Eric threw back his head and laughed out loud as he walked back through the salon to the wheel. “Hot damn, what a woman! I’d like to have one like that myself!”
“Yeah,” Joe muttered as he plopped down on the banquette seat. So would he. The lights of the marina grew brighter as they neared San Bias.
He knew Martine, maybe even better than she knew herself. She was definitely cut out for this kind of thing. Her mind worked sharpest when she ripped into action, when the threats were greatest, when everything was at stake. She excelled in a crisis and knew it. And loved it.
No matter how much she might care about him—and he did know that she cared—he would never be able to change her. If he tried, he would lose her anyway. But he couldn’t stand by and watch her risk her neck on a regular basis. He’d already decided that would drive him crazy.
Hell, he was crazy right now, ground down to raw nerves by the last two days. He needed sleep, needed rest, needed peace. But he needed her, too. She filled something inside him that had been missing all his life.
She appeared, face clean, hair wet, rivulets of water splotching the white T-shirt she had appropriated from Humberto’s discarded wardrobe.
Joe stood and his arms opened without any conscious thought on his part and she walked into them, laying her damp head on his shoulder. He cradled it with one hand and held her close with the other.
“I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again,” he swore.
She pulled back and looked up at him, searching his eyes. But she didn’t say a word. Instead, she put her head on his chest again, snuggled close and held him.
He wished to God he felt desperation in her grip, but it seemed more like comfort or maybe consolation. The desperation was all his and as useless as his wish for peace. Some things just weren’t meant to be.
How could he ask her to be other than she was? Would he even love her as much as he did if she changed to suit him?
Then the boat was docking and it was too late for talk. What could they say anyway?
Not only were Holly, Will and Mercier there waiting for them, but also representatives from the FBI, the Coast Guard and Joe’s old friend from the local ATF office. And the police, of course. While the anchored Paper Moon had not been visible from the shoreline, the explosion of the Zodiac had been and had attracted attention.
Joe sighed, thinking of the numerous debriefings that would be necessary. Separate debriefings. When they disembarked, he made a beeline for Jack Mercier who was obviously the man in charge. “Do you think Martine and I could have a few minutes alone before the circus starts?”
Jack frowned, turned away from the crowd and spoke to Joe in a low voice. “Sorry, not likely. We called them all down here. Now we have to lay it all out for them. The Navy will be jumping up and down about the loss of their equipment. The FBI’s already bent out of shape because they weren’t in on the plan to start with. And we don’t even want to talk about the cops. That sheriff is fit to be tied, especially about the bombs, because EOD was running all over his county while he was kept totally in the dark.”
Joe winced. “Not the model of agency cooperation you envisioned, is it?”
The answering chuckle was grim. “See if you can get your local buddies off our backs while I pacify the Navy rep. Holly will handle the FBI while Will takes the official statements from Martine and Eric. He can get yours later. Let’s get this wrapped up, then you can settle things with Martine. It’s not like there’s a big rush on that.” He paused, then frowned at Joe again. “Is there?”
Joe looked at Martine who was already engrossed in an animated conversation with Holly. “I guess not.”
After relating to Sheriff Nigel all that had happened and why local law enforcement had not been called in from the beginning, Joe excused himself to go to his family. They had arrived in force shortly after the boat had docked and he had not yet had the chance to speak with them. Surrounded by his parents, sisters and brother-in-law, Joe watched Martine disappear around the office of the marina with Mercier.
He didn’t see her again. When he finally managed to break away from the family and ask where she had gone, Holly informed him that Jack had gotten a call and had to leave for McLean. Since he’d been going anyway, Martine had requested a ride to the airport with him.
Since he had half expected something like that, Joe’s sudden and almost overwhelming anger surprised him. It also kept him from calling her later, after she’d had time to arrive in Atlanta. Apparently, she’d had what she wanted from him and it had been enough.
Despite Joe’s exhaustion, sleep eluded him. He spent the entire first night going over everything that had happened between him and Martine. She had gone without so much as a word of goodbye. Not even a wave.
When Holly, Will and Eric stopped by the following morning, he told them he was staying in Port St. Joe and that he might not be returning to McLean at all. The three shared a look that said they were confident he would.
Joe was anything but sure of that, but he had promised himself time to think everything through. Mercier had insisted that he needed some down time and ordered him to take it. Joe knew they all expected him to return to work with Sextant. He did feel obligated because of all they had done, but he couldn’t let that sway his decision.
“Put it all out of your mind for a while, Joey,” his mother advised him when the others had gone. She fed him paella, fried chicken, his favorite pie, and babied him just as she always had. It felt good to be loved and indulged. But somehow it was not enough.
“Enjoy your rest,” she insisted. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.” She wore that knowing smile, the one that had always encouraged him to follow his heart.
Though she had been known to meddle shamelessly and ask the most personal questions a mother would dare, she carefully avoided any mention of Martine. So did his father and sisters. Joe began to think there might be a conspiracy involving reverse psychology here. Surely he was being paranoid.
For once, Joe decided he would follow orders to the letter. He wouldn’t think about Martine or the job for a while. Especially Martine. If only thoughts of her were that easily dismissed. She and Joe had been so close, he missed her like he would miss an amputated limb, as if she had been a part of him he could barely function without. But he didn’t talk about her.
Mercier had called the next day. “Joe? How are you?”
“I’m not coming back,” Joe announced, feeling backed against a wall, forced into a hasty decision by that one simple question.
Mercier laughed. “Of course not. I don’
t want you to yet. I merely called to tell you the special weapons training at Quantico has been pushed back another week because they’re hiring a new instructor. So you’ll have three weeks down there. I’m off on assignment today and not certain when I can touch base again. Just wanted to tell you to enjoy your vacation and congratulate you on a job well done. I hear that the government forces swept over the compound not long after you left and Humberto’s old outfit is pretty much as dead in the water as he is.”
“Good,” Joe said, uncertain what else Mercier expected him to say. That was why Joe had gone to Colombia, after all.
He remembered to give Mercier the morning’s news. “They found the captain of the Paper Moon, by the way. Humberto’s men had tossed him overboard as soon as they were out of sight of land. But the old codger was a former Navy swim instructor, swam the distance and wound up down the coast in a hospital. They say he’ll be okay.”
Mercier laughed. “Good for him! Bet he’s mad as the devil about his boat. Eric was Navy, too. He’ll get a kick out of this when I tell him.”
Joe chuckled, too, his mood lightened a little. He almost wished he could be the one to tell Vinland. And the others. Would they be in the office now or getting ready to deploy on this new thing, too? He wouldn’t ask. It was nothing to him anyway. “Good luck on the mission, Jack.”
“Thanks. And you take it easy,” Mercier said. “Remember, you still owe me a drink at Christa’s when we get back.”
The connection broke without even a goodbye. Joe suspected it was because Mercier didn’t want to give him time for any further refusals.
Curiosity niggled at him. Where was Jack off to that put that undercurrent of excitement in his voice? What was this new assignment? Was it anything remotely like what Joe had been doing and what would the real day-today work of Sextant involve?
He tried not to think about it.
But after eight days, one thought did keep reoccurring. This vacation business was proving to be incredibly boring. Each morning Joe would wake up with a start, sit straight up in bed and throw the covers off, feeling there was something undone, something to prepare for. He soon realized he had spent so many years geared up and in a state of physical and mental readiness that he couldn’t turn it off.
No amount of time spent strolling up and down the beach, watching greedy gulls, feeling the familiar pull of the waves could quite settle him down enough to enjoy this longed-for leisure.
Joe kept busy. He bought his mama roses, fixed everything that was broken around the house that his father had ignored, went fishing with his dad, baby-sat for Linda and Delores a time or two and got to know his nieces better. But at every lull in conversation, and especially every night when he was alone, Joe’s mind flew North. His thoughts kept pinging back and forth between Atlanta and McLean.
After that week, his parents decided to go to Ft. Lauderdale to visit Joe’s brother and his family and give Joe some time alone. The solitude only heightened his need for Martine. And, in spite of his resolve not to, he did think about the job.
To his dismay, Joe began to realize that he missed work. How could he relax knowing there was evil out there while he was simply lying around, letting it flourish, not doing one single thing to stamp out what he could of it?
And he missed Martine more than anything. What would he give to have her here beside him, dressed in that little red bikini he’d yet to see her wear? But even if she were here, she wouldn’t be content simply to laze in the sun. Not with all that incredible energy of hers.
The memory of the way she felt against him would suddenly rush through him, a wave of lust drowning him in need. But he fought it as hard as he would fight to survive an actual drowning. He could not give in. He couldn’t possibly live with her, so he would have to learn to live without her. God, how he missed her.
Eighteen long days into his vacation, Joe sat on the edge of a deck, the boards beneath him hot from the sun while a warm breeze warned of summer fast approaching. As much as he loved it, the urge to leave almost overpowered him with its intensity. It grew worse by the minute. And he had three whole days to go yet.
This was a place to come home to and recharge. And as long as his batteries were working even a little bit, it was no place to stay.
All this fantasizing about life on the beach with no worries had been just that. Pure fantasy, probably born of the isolation he felt when immersed undercover. Who had he been kidding? He had to do something or go absolutely nuts. And it ought to be something productive, something he did well. Running occasional fishing expeditions like his dad did just wouldn’t cut it.
Angry at the realization, Joe stood up, dusted the sand off his shorts and went inside to call Martine. If he was destined to go full tilt at the world, he might as well admit he would never be satisfied with a woman who would do any less. He loved her. There, he’d admitted it. And he loved her in spite of what she was, most likely because of it.
His sigh of resignation made him laugh at himself. Something inside him loosened as if set free. The thought of seeing her again, holding her in his arms, laughing with her and admitting what an idiot he had been sent energy zinging through his muscles like a shot of adrenaline.
He dialed her cell phone, only to find that the number was now invalid. Her land line number was no longer in service. Matt didn’t answer his.
As Joe hurriedly punched in the number for Ames International, he allowed the memory of that last vision of her to drift back to mind. Martine in white. Surely a bride.
He felt suddenly very anxious. He needed to talk to her, plead with her if he had to, arrange a place for them to meet halfway and see where it would take them.
The receptionist at Ames informed him that Matt was away from the office. And, no, Ames could not give him a number where either Martine or Matt could be reached. Joe nearly panicked. He knew the feeling wouldn’t go away until he found out where she was and what she was up to. God only knew how much trouble she was in right this very minute.
Chapter 16
Martine had more to do than she had time for. The new apartment was stacked shoulder-high with boxes. Her furniture was in place but she could hardly get to her bed to sleep. The job had her in such a state she couldn’t sleep much anyway.
Matt tossed her a bottle of water across the kitchen table and shoved the remainder of the pizza he had ordered to her side. “Eat, sis. You need some energy!”
She pulled out her chair and sat down, eyeing the piles of kitchen stuff that littered the counter. “Will I ever get this place straightened out?”
He laughed and sipped his beer. “It’s small, but I think you’ll manage to fit everything in eventually. I gotta tell you, though, living expenses up here are gonna eat you up.”
She laughed. “Yes, but I’ll make it. It certainly took the Bureau long enough to process my application and make a decision. What’s it been, nearly a year since I applied?”
He sobered a little, tilting his bottle, staring at it. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry you got it since it’s what you want. But will it be enough, Martine? The job, I mean. I know you…had feelings for Joe Corda.” He looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Want me to beat him up for you?”
Martine laughed. “Like you could. It’s not Joe’s fault we couldn’t work things out. He made it pretty clear what he wanted for the long term and I was about as far from that as I could get and still be female.”
“If you had just promised to do something a little less risky than what we were doing at Ames, he would have come around,” Matt argued. “He probably would, even now, if you’d just find him and talk to him about this new job. Speaking of which, will you miss the other? Instructing’s not exactly a thrill a minute.”
Martine shook her head as she picked a pepperoni off the pizza and nibbled at it. “No, I had about as much danger as I could stand on the Colombia thing and then Florida really capped it. I can do without that much whiplash action, thank you very much.”
; “You handled it, Mart. Wrapped it up like a pro.” He saluted her with his beer and winked.
She sighed. “I didn’t say I couldn’t hack it. I could. I did. But all I wanted in the first place was a job that made a difference, you know? What I’m doing now will still do that.”
Besides, she had done a lot of thinking these past few weeks. Joe had guessed right about her reasons for over-compensating.
Matt grinned back when she smiled at him. “And if you should just happen to hook up with Joe again, he’ll appreciate the change in you.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Matt. I haven’t really changed that much. He was pretty adamant about what kind of woman he was looking for. He wants a homebody. I won’t be any man’s shadow, not like Mama was. You know what she’s been like since Dad died.”
“Lost,” he affirmed, nodding sadly and taking another sip of his beer. “You could never be like her, though. Even when Sebastian had you safely tucked away in the file room at Ames, you had that independent streak. Sure you’re not gonna miss the challenge now that you’ve had a taste of the action?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” She avoided Mart’s questioning gaze. They had always been close and he saw too much of what she was feeling.
Would she miss Joe? Hardly a minute went by that she didn’t think of him, wonder what he was doing, whether he thought of her at all.
Chances were, she’d never see him again. If their paths did cross, she wasn’t altogether sure she could pretend nonchalance. Well, hello, Joe? What have you been doing with yourself all these years? Married? Any kids yet?
No. She just hoped if they ever wound up in the same location, she would see him first so she could run like hell and not have to hear all those answers. A clean break was best. He’d said so himself once, the first time they had parted. He’d been right.