FOR HIS EYES ONLY

by Candace Irvin

  "Bimbo? I don't think a man can be referred to as a bimbo."

  "Mr. Garrick—"

  He was standing in front of her—his fingers pressed to her lips—before she'd even realized he'd moved. He shook his head, tsking gently. "Honey, please, you bandy that name around much louder and you're liable to get me killed."

  She jerked away from his hand and glared up at him. "Thanks—I'll remember that."

  "Ouch."

  "I'm waiting."

  He plowed his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's a long story."

  "Since I'm not allowed on the bridge tonight, I seem to have some free time on my hands. Start talking." He didn't have a choice—because she didn't plan on giving him one.

  Reese motioned for her to have a seat on her rack and turned to lock the door. Then he slipped his weapon back into what was probably a holster in his boot and flipped on her CD player. He dragged her desk chair over to the bed and sat down as a sultry sax moaned softly around them.

  His eyes flared and deepened to cobalt. "I had no idea you were into jazz."

  She bit down on her cheek again. He had no right smiling at her like that. And she sure as heck shouldn't be responding to it—not after what she'd just learned. She leaned back against the bulkhead, strangling his wallet as she tucked her legs under her chin. "Yeah, well it's nice to know I've still got a few secrets left from you, too."

  "Jade—"

  She glowered at his outstretched palm. "Spare me the apologies, Macbe—Reese—and skip to the explanation."

  He pulled his hand back and nodded as he crossed his arms. "Several weeks ago a heroin dealer showed up—"

  "Heroin? You think someone on this ship is running heroin?" She would have slapped her head if it didn't already hurt. Of course he did—or he wouldn't be here.

  "I'm sorry. This is just one more shock on top of a really long day."

  Ah, damn, there was that compassion again. She didn't want to see it. She couldn't handle it. Not right now.

  "Are you okay? Do you want to get some sleep and finish this in the morning?"

  "No. Really—I'm fine." There was no way she could sleep. The accident and hour be damned—she was wide-awake now. "Please, continue."

  He stared at her intently for a few moments, as if trying to determine if she really was up to it. He'd apparently decided in her favor, because he sighed and nodded. "Okay. But if you need to rest, you let me—"

  "Just tell me."

  He leaned back in the chair. "As I was saying, I was brought in on the case after a known drug dealer showed up in the burn unit of San Diego General. He had several unusual burns to his hands and his … ah … genital area."

  Jade blinked. His what? How could he burn just his hands and his—well—there? She swallowed the question. "How unusual were these burns?"

  "They were caused by radiation."

  "What?" Good Lord!

  "That's what I thought. Obviously, the bastard didn't know the outside of the package was radioactive when he handled it and shoved it in his pants."

  "Obviously. But I still don't see how that led you to us. When it comes to radiation, the Navy's not the only game in town anymore."

  "It is when it also involves a repair ship."

  Jade snorted. "Right. And you're going to take the word of a drug dealer? Come on, you know better than I do, they're not exactly pillars of honesty."

  He grinned at that. "You're right, they're not. But this one I believe." His grin twisted into a wince. "I was there when the doctor informed him his other—ah—appendage might blacken and fall off. He sang louder than a gospel choir. Unfortunately, he didn't know all the notes. I didn't get much out of him except the date he'd received his last shipment. He'd always met his contact at night, so he couldn't ID the guy from the collection of official Navy photos we obtained."

  Something clicked. She pulled her legs from under her chin, crossing them Indian-style as she leaned forward. "Wait a minute, you said you had the date. Who was in port?"

  Reese nodded. "You and the Durante."

  That's it, then. "It's us." She slumped back against the bulkhead.

  "You sound pretty sure, though it is starting to look that way. We've got a guy on there, too, and he's turned up even less than I have."

  She sighed and explained her instinct. "The Durante's a sub tender—which means she services submarines, not surface ships. Security is just too damn tight on one of those to let a supply of heroin slip through for long. That is how the drugs are getting aboard, right? Through another ship—a nuclear-capable one?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know?"

  He dropped his elbows to his knees and leaned forward. "That's the problem. I haven't been able to get into the NSF long enough to find out."

  Jade stared at Reese, trying to reconcile the happy-go-lucky, almost obnoxious man she'd come to know these past two weeks with the serious DEA agent seated eighteen inches away, staring at her intently. It disturbed her that she couldn't.

  Until she realized why.

  Mack Reese didn't exist. He was a creation. Reese Garrick was the real thing. She'd seen a hundred telling signs over the last couple of weeks, but she'd ignored them—because she'd wanted to. She'd wanted to believe he was just an airhead who'd do his time and then just float away when it was over. Because if she believed that, she'd be safe.

  From herself.

  She took a deep breath and decided to rent that movie of his the moment they pulled back in port. Apparently Reese was a better actor than she'd thought.

  But for now, it was time to put the actor aside and deal with the agent. "You won't be able to get into the NSF on your own—not without arousing suspicion, anyway. Not with TPI in effect."

  Confusion furrowed his brow. "TPI? That's one acronym I haven't run across yet."

  "Two Person Integrity. It's a safeguard that means there must be at least two sailors present whenever classified material is involved."

  "Damn." He stared down at the deck and rubbed the back of his neck.

  She was tempted to take over and provide him with the same relief he'd given her. But she had the feeling he'd prefer another service instead. "I can get around it. Of course, it'll take some thought and some planning, but I can get you in."

  He raised his head, hope spreading like fire across his face as he stared at her.

  And then the phone rang.

  His eyes narrowed and his hands tensed.

  "Relax, it's probably Karin checking up on me."

  He reached over and pushed the silver button on the side of the receiver. The handset popped off and he passed it to her.

  "DCA here."

  "The news is good and bad."

  She glanced at Reese, her eyes locking with his deep blue gaze. "What have you got, Chief?"

  "Rushed out two lovebirds who make a habit out of nesting near the forklifts whenever the ship's underway."

  She closed her eyes briefly and rubbed a finger between her brows. She was better off not knowing this part. "What did they see?"

  "Not much, thought it was already occupied."

  He was going to make her ask. "And?"

  "Whoever it was—it was Khaki."

  Her head began to throb, and it had nothing to do with her stitches. Khaki—officer, chief. Mike Dillon. Greg Coffey. Oh, God! Reese was after Greg!

  "I know. Talk to you in the morning, DCA."

  She thrust the phone back at Reese, blindly.

  "Jade, what is it?"

  She recovered long enough to remember his arms around her not more than a half hour ago. Her teeth tore into the side of her cheek as the betrayal struck. Hell, that black magic wasn't an accident. It was Reese. He'd lured her under his spell—slowly, carefully, deliberately. Then he'd asked her about Greg. He'd been leading her on, using her, so he could arrest one of her best friends!

  The control she'd managed to hold on to when she'd discovered his identity finally snapped as the extent of his
deception smacked into her. She clenched her fist around his wallet and launched it at him. He ducked just in time. It whizzed past his head and smacked into the closet behind him.

  He had the bloody nerve to look surprised. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

  She followed the wallet with a blistering glare. "You used me."

  Reese sucked in his breath as the black loathing in Jade's gaze slammed into him. It was over.

  She knew.

  She'd figured out he'd been leading her on to get to Dillon and Coffey. To get into the NSF. This woman was just too damn smart for his tricks. He wished to heck that didn't please him—but it did.

  He leaned over, shoving the discovery deep inside as he retrieved his wallet. But he couldn't push down the realization that she hadn't lost her cool until she thought he didn't care. Nor the hope that it meant she cared. "Jade, please. I—"

  "Don't bother denying it. I've had just about all the lies I can stomach for one night."

  He gripped his wallet, biting back every filthy curse in the book—and then a few more. "I won't deny it."

  He watched as the last flicker of hope died and extinguished from her eyes. She stared down at her hands—talking more to herself than to him. "You set me up. Probably from the beginning. All the smoldering looks. The dance. That kiss." She raised her head and focused on him with deadly precision. "It was all part of the plan, wasn't it? To get me to trust you. To get you in."

  He'd have given anything to deny it.

  But he couldn't.

  He clenched his fingers around his wallet, crushing it. "Yes, it was." At first.

  Her eyes grew even colder until they were barren. Then the chill spread out beyond her, clawing into him as well. She nodded slowly, her whisper slicing into his gut. "Well congratulations. You're in."

  So why had he just felt a steel door slain in his face?

  "I have one more question for you, Mr. C. Reese Garrick."

  His name had been on her lips quite a bit in his dreams these past few weeks, but it had never dripped with that particular note before. At least she was still whispering.

  "Why are you trusting me now? What makes you so sure I'm not going to get up off this rack and march straight through that door, climb two sets of ladders, knock on the Captain's cabin and blow your cover from here to Kingdom Come?"

  "Your file." And his gut.

  He may as well have slapped her. "You've read my record?"

  That solved one question—the chill wasn't going to stay in her eyes forever. He just wished the heat replacing it would stop before it blew the top off the thermometer.

  "No wonder you seemed surprised to discover I'd gone to school with Greg." Her lips twisted bitterly. "I take it my transfer isn't listed."

  "Nope. Just you graduating with honors from San Diego, your follow-on military schools and, of course, your officer fitness evaluations."

  "Those are private."

  "I know. But yours are stellar, so why the huff?"

  Bad choice of words.

  "Well, hell, why not snoop into my background investigation as well? That would take you back to grade school. Then you'd know all my dirty little secrets."

  He opted for bald honesty. "Didn't have the time. I had forty officers to investigate in twenty-four hours, and you didn't work in the NSF. All I needed to know was you'd been granted your Top Secret clearance." But he wished he had. It probably mentioned Jeff. "Look, I know it doesn't help, but I'm sorry. I didn't even read it until the night I'd been assigned to you. I didn't mean to pry. I was doing my job."

  She ignored him.

  He practically ripped his wallet in two. "Jade—"

  "Someone saw a khaki uniform near the forklifts earlier this evening."

  Yes!

  He refused to feel guilty as the rush hit. In fact, she was right to change the subject. He was here to do a job. When it over, he'd find a way to breach the pain he'd caused. But right now, he had to find out who was running that heroin.

  Before they got a crack at the other side of Jade's head. "Who was it?"

  She dug her fingers into her braid. "We don't know." Sighing heavily, she pulled three large bobby pins from her hair and laid them on the bed between them in a neat row. "So who do you think it is? Dillon or Coffey?"

  Reese swallowed as the thick braid fell over her shoulder all the way down to her thigh. "I don't know. Who do you think it is?" His lungs slowed as she pulled the brown rubber band from the bottom and threaded her fingers up into the rope, separating the strands.

  He glanced at her face, trying to ignore the inky curtain spilling into her lap—and almost laughed at her expression.

  "You really have to ask which one I think is behind it?"

  He had to smile. "No. But I need proof." His lungs nearly stopped altogether as she plowed her fingers into her scalp, sending a shimmer of midnight blue through the black.

  Ah, damn, not now.

  Not while she hated him.

  But it was too late. He was already hard. He swallowed a groan, cursing his fetish as it ripped into him. He'd never had trouble controlling it.

  Until Jade.

  He shifted in the chair, reviewing the multiplication tables as she continued to slide her fingers through her glistening hair. He moved on to division, but that didn't help, either. Maybe he should get up and leave. He could come back later. He would.

  If he could stand.

  He cleared his throat, louder than he'd expected. "Tell me about Lieutenant Coffey." He sighed, breathing easier as her hands dropped into her lap. There was a God after all.

  She shrugged. "There's not much to tell. Greg's a friend. Actually, he's more than that. He was my frat brother in college. He's been there for me through some pretty tough times."

  "Like Jeff?"

  He'd gone too far.

  "Jeff is none of your business."

  The hell he wasn't. He nodded, anyway. "Okay."

  She sighed. "Let's just stick to the case. Besides, we can't be sure what happened tonight is even connected to the heroin. What would be the point?"

  "To search my quarters."

  "Did you just say what I think you did?"

  He nodded. "Someone searched my quarters while we were out playing dodge-the-forklift." He leaned back in the chair, slipping his wallet down into his boot and patting it. "I imagine they were looking for these."

  "You think he's on to you?"

  He smiled at her shock. For someone who was great at waging war, she was fairly naive when it came down to the dirty, underhanded battles in life. But then, most honest people were. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not taking any chances."

  He never did.

  Whoever he was after was smart enough to watch his own six. Yeah, the forklifts were connected. He didn't need physical proof to know that. He could feel it.

  "Oh, my God." She went deathly pale, and for a second, he thought she was going to throw up.

  He leaned forward and grabbed her arms. "What is it? Your head?"

  She didn't answer.

  He clamped down on her hands, squeezing tightly as fear really gripped him. "Jade, what's wrong?"

  Still looking dazed, she finally focused. "The watch bill."

  What? "Honey, what does your sick sailor have to do with this?"

  "Not the enlisted watch bill. The officer's. Coffey and I are in the same section—I'm on the bridge, he's in radar. But the point is, we rotate together."

  Understanding dawned. "You mean when you're on watch, he's on watch?"

  She nodded.

  It made sense. A lot of it. He'd spent the entire week practically glued to Jade's side. Wherever she went, he went. If Coffey couldn't search his quarters when they were on the bridge because he was also on watch, he'd have to create a diversion—a little damage control diversion—to get him out of the way.

  He linked his fingers into hers. "What about Dillon?"

  She shook her head. "He's in section three. Greg, you and I are
in section two." She must not have noticed their hands. Because if she had, there was no way she'd keep smoothing the pads of her fingers on his. Bittersweet longing coursed through him as she rubbed them over his palm.

  Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

  "I still don't believe Greg could do this. I know him, he doesn't even drink. Besides he'd have a hell of a time pulling one over on Dillon once, let alone on a regular basis."

  He must not have hidden his surprise well enough, because she squeezed his fingers and laughed.

  "What, you think because Dillon's slime he's not smart?" She shook her head. "I thought you big, bad undercover guys knew better than that."

  He squeezed her hand right back. "Lady, you have no problem hitting below the belt, do you? No, I've got the same concern. I'm just amazed to hear you defend the guy, that's all."

  "Trust me, I'm not defending him. It's just a reality check. Dillon is the senior lieutenant in the NSF—he's the division officer. And he's a type A, micro-manager to boot. Nothing comes out of that compartment that doesn't go through him first."

  Damn. "That leads us back to square one then, doesn't it? Which guy am I after?"

  She smiled that tiny, naughty smile of hers. The one he'd seen her use when she'd gotten Dillon good—when she thought no one was watching.

  He liked it.

  She slipped her hand from his and leaned back against the bulkhead. "Well, there's only one way to find out if the drugs are there for sure. We'll just have to get you behind the second door."

  Yup, he liked it a lot.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  "I was wondering if you were going to show up."

  Jade waited for Karin to close the medical chart on her desk before she entered her office. "Don't you start in on me, too."

  Her day must have shown on her face, because Karin tsked softly and swatted the chair next to her desk. "Park it and tell Dr. Scott all about it."

  Jade sighed as she slid into the chair, wishing she could do just that. How did you go about telling your best friend and fellow officer you'd spent the afternoon hammering out a covert plan to break the ship's resident pretty boy—who was not who he appeared to be—into the nuclear spaces so you could figure out which one of your fellow officers was really spending his days running heroin on and off the ship?