by Leslie North
“Shit.” Scotty’s harsh curse echoed in the quiet space.
“What?” She looked over her shoulder, a wad of undies in her fist. “What’s in there?”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“I already don’t like this.” She dropped the clothes in her hand then swiveled to face him, sliding the drawer shut with her back then waggling her fingers “Let me see.”
His face looked oddly ashen beneath his golden tan. “I don’t think—”
Whatever was in that file couldn’t be that bad.
“Give it here.” Impatient, she yanked it from his hand and stared at the receipt inside.
Roselawn cemetery. Plot number 157. Paid in full.
Hayley frowned. Okay. Her husband had died not long ago. Maybe it had been for him. She flipped to the newspaper clipping beneath and and scowled at the headline.
SEALs wife found dead in home.
There’d been no reports of any murders related to Natalie Matthews in the Bureau’s files. Natalie couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. Not to mention the fact there was no logical reason for this information to be hidden in the underwear drawer.
Which meant someone else had planted it there.
Hayley slumped down onto the edge of the bed beside Scotty and checked her watch. She was due back in the office in a few hours. She’d thought this would be a quick in and out, grab the e-reader and go. Instead, she had no digital files and a ton more questions. This had been her one shot, her one chance at making a name for herself.
Scotty apparently took her defeat as grief because he put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. His tone cracked a bit, as if he was actually shaken up by this turn of events. “I can’t believe she’s gone too.”
The scent of him—spice and sandalwood and clean, warm male—begged Hayley to close her eyes and savor his strength while she could. It had been so long, too long since anyone had held her and cared for her like this. His warm, minty breath stirred the hair near her temple and her pulse kicked up a notch. “We should, um, probably visit the gravesite,” he said.
Hayley’s analytical brain slammed the breaks on her libido. Nope. Visiting that cemetery without gathering all the intel first would be a colossal mistake. Details kept people honest. Details kept people safe. “No. We should wait until we have all the facts.”
“Oh shit.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “You’re one of those details gals, huh?” He straightened and stared down at her. “Details take too long.”
“Not with me it won’t.”
Scotty wrinkled his nose. “Why is that?”
“Because I graduated top of my class at Quantico in both cyber security and emerging malware threats. I’m one of the world’s leading experts in emerging tech viruses and there isn’t an encryption in existence that I can’t crack. Any other questions?”
She crossed her arms, expecting the same reaction she’d always gotten from her ex. He’d always wanted her to dumb things down, bury her intelligence beneath layers of makeup and short skirts and push-up bras.
“FBI, huh?” Scotty’s gaze narrowed and a slow smile spread across his face. “I’m impressed, Red. So, instead of Superman, you’re like Superhacker, right?”
Adorable. That was the first word that sprang to her mind. Dangerous. That was the second. She’d have to watch herself around him if she intended to find what she needed and still keep her cool. Hayley pushed out of his arms and headed back toward the door, winking at him over her shoulder. “Something like that.”
Chapter Three
An hour later, Hayley and Scotty stood in Roselawn Cemetery, the dirt beneath her feet still dark and moist and smelling of moss, evidence of a freshly dug grave. Ironic, really, given the fact her career seemed pretty terminal at the moment. There were a few sparse bouquets decorating the space below the name engraved on the headstone.
Natalie Teresa Matthews
1988 – 2016
Beloved Wife
According to the bogus newspaper clipping she’d brought along, Natalie had passed away unexpectedly two weeks prior. Few other details were given about the death, except that she’d been young and vibrant and still mourning the loss of her husband, Nick Matthews—a decorated Navy SEAL veteran. If a twenty-eight-year-old, otherwise healthy young woman just assumed room temperature, there should’ve been an investigation, autopsies, questions raised. But there’d been none of the above.
The whole thing smelled distinctly like a cover up.
“Well, I guess that’s it then,” Scotty said from beside her.
And that was the other thing. For a guy who supposedly was a “close” friend of Natalie’s—whatever that meant—he seemed to be taking all of this a bit too well. Yeah, he’d seemed genuinely shaken at the house, but now he showed all the sorrow of a bowling ball.
“Don’t you think it’s odd?” Hayley held a hand above her eyes to block out the sun.
“What’s odd?”
“All this.” She gestured with her free hand around the website. “Too abrupt for my tastes.”
Scotty gave her some serious side-eye, his expression unreadable. “Death is abrupt.”
“No.” She stepped back and walked over to a nearby oak tree. “I mean afterward. When something like this happens, there’s usually a bunch of paperwork involved, trails leading to who did what and when. I didn’t find anything during my search.”
“Search? I thought she was your aunt?”
“She is,” Hayley said, flustered. He got her normally detail-oriented mind all discombobulated. Way to blow your cover there, rookie. “I mean was. I mean, I did some checking on things before I went to the house and there was nothing on file.”
He blew out a breath, head lowered as if in reverence, then joined her near the tree and slid his aviator sunglasses back into place, hiding his mesmerizing blue eyes. Now, when she looked at him, all she saw reflected back was herself. She leaned against the trunk and faced away from him.
Scotty placed his hand above her head and leaned his weight on it. “Maybe you’re still grieving over the loss of your dear family member and you need time for your skills to rebound, Red.”
She snorted. “Same as you’re grieving over your close friend’s demise?”
“People grieve in different ways.” He shook his head.
She scrunched her nose and kicked an acorn with the toe of her sneaker. “This won’t help me find what I’m looking for at all.”
“And what exactly are you looking for?” He slid the glasses halfway down the bridge of nose and looked at her over the rims, all coy grin and pure male swagger. “Must be pretty big if the FBI’s involved.”
“What are you looking for, Scotty?” she turned the question back on him, refusing to allow him to get the upper hand again, like he had in the kitchen, refusing to succumb to those eyes of his. His firm, full lips compressed into a thin line and he stepped back, cursing.
“Can we just stop lying, please? Natalie didn’t have any nieces and nephews.” After raking a hand through his hair, he met her gaze. “I’ll come clean if you will.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stepped closer and she looked away. Busted. “Fine. You go first.”
“I’m part of SEAL Team Ten. We’re technically on official suspension, but have been sent on a covert op under the authority of a high-ranking Naval officer to clear our name in the death of our team mate, Nick Matthews. Natalie had some confidential files downloaded on an e-reader that we believe might lead us to Nick’s real killer.” He crossed his arms. “And you?”
“I work for the FBI Cyber Security team. My boss wanted more information on the death of Nick Matthews, so I figured I could earn some bonus points toward my promotion by digging a little farther. And I don’t believe Natalie’s dead, by the way.”
“Neither do we. Too convenient.” He hiked his chin. “If I can find her location, that would be a bonus. Care to elaborate as to where you thi
nk she might be?”
“Not really. Is there a reason why you brought me all the way out here to do this instead of spilling your guts at the house?”
“Actually, yes. My guess is that place is under surveillance. Most likely by whoever planted that.” He pointed to the newspaper in her hand. “I’d say a guy by the name of Becks.”
“I see. Is there any reason why this Becks guy wouldn’t follow us here?”
“Not saying he didn’t. But at least here we get out into the sunshine a bit.” He inhaled deep and grinned. “And it really isn’t Becks style these days. He’s pretty scarred after the fire, gruesome burns on his face and arms, from what I hear.”
“Fire?” She looked away and shook her head. “I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to impress my boss here.”
“Right. Because disobeying direct orders and lying seems like a great way to earn a job.”
“You know what? Forget it.” Hayley turned on her heel and headed across the grass for her car parked nearby. His bright yellow taxi idled behind it. With luck, she’d not be seeing him again. Hayley ignored the sudden pinch of regret that thought caused in her heart and clicked the button on her key fob to unlock the doors. “We’re done, Scotty. Nice to meet you. Have a happy life. See you around.”
Scotty hesitated near his cab, one hand on the open door and the other arm leaning against the roof of the car, looking like he walked right off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. “See you around, Red.”
Then, with a smile and a small wave as his taxi passed her by, he was gone.
She stood for a moment afterward, staring at the retreating vehicle before she climbed behind the wheel and headed out of the cemetery herself. She had work to do, now more than ever, if she was going to unravel this mystery and salvage her career goals.
*
Later that night, Scotty peered around the trunk of a large sycamore and scanned the area near Natalie’s house again. It was close to midnight and most of the neighbors had gone to bed long ago, leaving only the orange glow of the streetlights and the whistle of the wind through the leaves to keep him company.
He’d returned, under orders from his team leader, Kyle Matthews, to do another search of the place—one where he wouldn’t be distracted by a certain auburn-haired FBI busybody with killer curves that could bring a lesser man to his knees.
Good thing he wasn’t a lesser man.
Over the years, Scotty had enjoyed his share of women, had earned and savored his reputation as the womanizer of his band of brothers. But something about Hayley made him question himself in that department. Most gals fell all over themselves when he turned on the charm. Her though? Seemed like she could care less.
Maybe she was a lesbian. That would explain it.
Or maybe you’re losing your touch…
The words echoed through his head in Nick’s voice, just the kind of jab Nick would’ve given if he’d been here.
He checked the area one more time, before he jogged across the street on silent steps, his black clothes and skull cap helping him blend into the background. This time, he snuck around to the back of the place and jimmied open the lock on the rear door before slipping inside.
Checking that bedroom again was a top priority. He’d spied an office too while he’d been here earlier. There was an attic too, according the the house’s blueprints. Natalie was a smart girl. He wouldn’t put it past her to stash the e-reader up there then try and return for it later. But in his years of snooping he’d learned that while some people hid their secrets all over, most kept to the usual spots. The twinge of guilt he felt over invading the privacy of one of his own didn’t help matters though, and his steps faltered as he hurried down the hall toward the front of the house. Jiggled the handle of the office door and found it was unlocked. Good. That would save him time.
The door creaked open and he’d taken one step inside when the distinct sounds of a lock being picked echoed from the front of the living room.
He’d not expected more company tonight, but then again, one never knew.
Maybe Becks had finally decided to show himself again. That’s who he assumed was behind planting that false newspaper article anyway. Cowardly bastard.
Scotty pulled his Glock from its holster and clicked off the safety. God, he’d love nothing more than to put a bullet right between that psychotic asshole’s eyes. The jerk had faked his death and left the rest of his SEAL team full of bullet holes in the jungle—as Scotty’s teammate Gage had discovered the week prior. Now the traitor was gunning for the files supposedly contained within the novel Natalie had written before her death. The novel Scotty had been trying to find when he’d gotten majorly sidetracked by a certain hot little redheaded number. Scotty closed his eyes for a millisecond, cleared Hayley’s image from his mind. Focus, he heard Nick say. Right. Michael Becks. The complete whackadoodle who was more than likely involved in Nick’s death somehow and Natalie’s disappearance.
Scotty kept his finger hovering over the trigger of his gun and sidled out toward the living room, his back pressed tight to the wall. If Becks came looking for a fight, Scotty would sure as hell give him one he’d never forget.
Poised beside the door now, he waited, breath held, as the front door opened and a shadowed figure stepped inside. Before his mystery guest had a chance to make a move, Scotty grabbed him around the neck, his forearm tight to the intruder’s jugular, threating the blood supply to his brain, the barrel of his gun resting against his temple in sinister warning. The person struggled against him as his mind raced. He was short. Too short for Becks. And soft. And curvy. And he smelled like strawberries and sunshine and…
“Shit.” Scotty fumbled with his free hand for the light switch, flicked it on, keeping a solid hold on his prisoner. “What the hell are you doing back here, Red?”
In answer, she stomped hard on his foot and bit his arm.
Cursing, he let her go, then blocked the door with his body to prevent her escape. “I’m waiting.”
Hayley glared at him, all fire and fury, her eyes glittering and her cheeks flushed, and despite the situation, Scotty felt cock tighten. Lesbo or not, she was a fine specimen to behold.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Hayley turned away, her tone deadpan. “Yes, your powers of attraction were too strong to deny.”
He snorted. “Considering you bat for the other side, maybe you—”
“I’m not a lesbian.” Hayley gave him a look. “Even if I was, what difference does that make?”
“None.” He followed her over to the desk.
She gave him a sly smile. “Maybe I just don’t like you.”
Without second guessing his actions, Scotty stepped close to her and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Her breath caught and her lips parted, her pupils dilating so wide they all but obliterated her emerald irises. There. That’s what he wanted. She might deny the attraction until she was blue in the face but she sure as hell felt it. This weird connection between them, like a silvery thread locking them both together and vibrating like a tuning fork whenever they were near each other. He traced a finger down her cheek and smiled as she shivered against him. “Nah. You like me just fine, Red.”
Scotty bent to kiss her, but she shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled backward and she scurried to the other side of the room.
“That will not be happening, asshole,” she said, her voice a tad breathless.
He grinned slow and shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
They’d consummate this relationship, sooner rather than later. He could wait, despite his pounding pulse and the blood rushing to…other areas.
“So.” She pushed a wayward lank of coppery hair behind her ear and picked up her file again. “Since we’re both working toward the same goal, makes sense to split the load.”
“What exactly are you proposing?” He yanked open another drawer to peer inside.
“A truce. If we work toget
her, we’ll both achieve our objectives faster.”
A truce, huh? Scotty hid his smile. He and the team really didn’t need any help to achieve their objectives, but spending more time with Hayley would be fun and having someone inside at the Bureau wasn’t a bad idea either. More intel never hurt.
He shut the drawer and leaned back against the file cabinet then pulled out his phone. “Deal. Give me your number in case I need to contact you.”
“Deal,” Hayley shook his hand, eyeing him warily as she rattled off her digits.
His skin tingled from their brief contact and as he got back to searching, Scotty couldn’t help but grin.
Yep. These next few days would fun indeed.
Chapter Four
“Um, Michelle, when you have a second?” Hayley said as her boss passed by her desk the next day. This was at least the fifth time she’d tried to flag the woman’s down and each time she’d blown her off. Usually, Hayley had better luck impressing her superiors, but her mojo was off. Had been since yesterday.
She still couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to partner with Scotty Devonshire on the whole Natalie Matthews affair. And yeah, she’d investigated the hell out of the guy too, spending her morning digging up whatever she could on him and his SEAL pals. Just because her decision had been impetuous, didn’t make her stupid. If she was going to entrust even part of her career and possible promotion to the guy, she wanted to know everything she could about him. Hayley had to say she’d been pretty impressed at first.
A bit of digging into the top-secret Naval databases had shown he’d grown up a Navy brat, traveling the world with his highly-decorated father. Then when he was eight, his dad had been killed in action. Something that seemed to inform the guy’s choices from that point onward. Hell, Scotty even looked just like his father—same sandy blond hair, same cornflower-blue eyes. Same devastatingly delicious smile.