Deep Waters (The Security Specialists)

by Jessica R. Patch

  She clutched her chest. “Thank you. Off the books is fine.” Especially after what Leo said about a potential scandal.

  The kitchen door swung open and Shep trudged inside. He shook his head. “He jumped in a van about three blocks up the beach. I didn’t have time to get the plates.” He spotted Detective Kensington and grinned. “Tom.”

  “Shepherd. Good to see you again.” They shook hands, and Detective Kensington told Shep the same thing he’d told her. “You get much of a look at that van?” Tom asked.

  “White van. Commercial. Guy was medium height. Hundred seventy pounds.” Shep rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate you looking into this quietly. Caley’s boss isn’t thrilled about what’s happening given the gala they have coming up. Scandal is a bad thing. So quieter is better until we can pinpoint what’s going on.”

  Caley’s stomach dipped. Again, Shepherd had been paying attention to her needs and he was protecting not only her but her career. She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  “I understand. I’ll keep you posted. You do the same.” Tom shook Shepherd’s hand again. “You keeping busy since last time I saw you?”

  “Fair amount.”

  Tom chuckled and looked at Caley, jerking a thumb in Shepherd’s direction. “This guy right here? One of the craziest guys I ever met. Hard core. No fear.”

  Caley swallowed hard. “I believe it,” she rasped. The exact kind of man she would never attach herself to. “I tend to like a quieter life.”

  “Sorry things have shaken up for you,” Tom said. He glanced at Shepherd, whose neck had flushed. Was he angry at Tom’s words? “But this guy will keep you safe and I’ll do what I can on my end.”

  Tom left with his report and Caley stared at Shepherd.

  “I’m not reckless.” Shepherd’s voice came with a gravelly hard edge.

  “I didn’t think you were, or that Tom implied that. I think he admires and respects you as a brave soldier.” She was thankful he was fearless. But while he wasn’t reckless, crazy meant going into dangerous missions with no fear of dying. No worries. No concerns. He had been point man for the Special Reaction Team in the Marine Corps. Yeah, she was familiar.

  That’s why Wilder hired him right off the bat and bragged about Shep. He had experience in crisis situations. Terrorist attacks. Hostage situations. VIP protection. Out of the nine-member elite team, Shep was positioned at the front. Leading the entry element.

  No fear of death. Of leaving a loved one behind. That nagged her. And it shouldn’t.

  His jaw flexed. That had seriously rubbed him wrong. “How’s Miss Whittle?”

  “I don’t know. I need to get to the hospital.” Her body felt like a waterlogged tree trunk, exhaustion seeping into every pore. What was happening to her perfect little world? Why was it crumbling like wet sand? Sunshine had turned to storm clouds. Torrential rains had fallen.

  And she was falling apart.

  “I’ll drive you over there. Go get cleaned up and—” he surveyed the disaster “—and I’ll start putting this back together.”

  Right now what she needed wasn’t a fresh change of clothes. Or a clean house.

  Right now, she needed...comfort. A hug from Dad or Wilder.

  All she had was Shep.

  He’d quickly proven he was able to protect her physically. But she needed emotional security and that wasn’t his strong suit.

  “You hear me? You’ll feel better if you clean up.”

  No. She wouldn’t. He was all she had right now. She inched toward him, his eyes narrowing further with each step. When she reached his personal space, he backed up.

  Don’t run from me, soldier. She needed solace and safety from strong, able arms.

  He backed up until the kitchen counter blocked his getaway.

  She slipped her arms around Shep’s waist and rested her head on his chest, listening as his heart rate kicked up. Waiting for him to reciprocate.

  A hug.

  What she desperately needed.

  His body went rigid.

  “I know this isn’t part of your assignment, but I need physical contact, Shepherd. A hug. A pat. Whatever.”

  Slowly, his arms encircled her. Awkward, but there. The warmth of his hands seeping through her T-shirt.

  “And don’t say ‘there there’—just tell me everything is going to be fine.” She buried her face into his T-shirt, the smell of soap and total ruggedness rushing her senses. She inhaled and exhaled as his arms held her close.

  “Everything’s gonna be fine.” His voice faltered but held enough confidence that she believed him. She pressed into his broad chest, like an iron wall that no one could penetrate. A force to be reckoned with. Here, sheltered by him, no one could touch her. And that brought more comfort than she was expecting. Dad and Wilder could make her feel safe and protected, but this...this was different. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

  She clung to him.

  He didn’t push her away. Didn’t tighten his grip on her either.

  But he had her. He wasn’t letting go and that meant something. At some point, though, he would let go. He’d leave her. For a cruise. And that sent a ripple of fear down her spine. Someone was hunting for something she didn’t have. Someone who would keep coming. “Why would anyone think I have a single thing worth taking?”

  “You were close to Mary Beth. She confided in you.”

  True.

  “And if he didn’t find what he was after that night in her dorm room, he may think you did.” His breath ruffled her hair.

  “But Miss Whittle.” A hiccup escaped her lips and she pushed down tears as she fisted his shirt.

  “I know.” His hands pressed in on her back, but didn’t move. Didn’t caress or offer any added solace. He wasn’t a comforter. He was a soldier.

  Time to let him abort the mission. She broke the contact.

  His eyebrows furrowed and he pursed his lips before shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Caley put some distance between them. “We should go to the hospital. I can clean up later.”

  “Roger that, Little Flynn.” He cleared his throat and clomped to the front door. Had she crossed a line? Was hugging her that unbearable?

  “Shepherd, you’re doing all you can. You don’t feel guilty do you?” He’d noted that he’d failed her before. But he hadn’t.

  “I’m fine. It’s 1815 hours. You need to eat. I’ll get you something at the hospital cafeteria.” He opened the door, waiting for her.

  She glanced around the room one last time. How was she ever going to solve this nightmare when she didn’t have a single lead? And what would happen if the oxygen cylinder had been tampered with and each incident was linked? Nora Simms wouldn’t see tragedy. She’d see news media and scandal. She’d see donors pulling out and dollar signs slipping away along with her father’s legacy and life achievements. And Caley and Leo Fines would be out of a job they both adored. But she couldn’t put her career above the life of Mary Beth.

  So why would anyone else?

  * * *

  Last night had been painfully long for Shep. It was easier for him to get in, accomplish the mission and move on to the next one. That’s how he’d been living his life since he’d joined the marines at eighteen. No need for feelings. Shut them off. Be a soldier.

  But he never truly shut them off. Only shoved them down. All the resentment, anger, hurt from his childhood. The terror from war. The death tolls. The loss. Buried deep.

  Until he’d given his life to Christ.

  A weight had lifted, but even then Shep had made sure to keep the most painful things locked away. They were too hard to deal with and he wasn’t going to curl up in the fetal position and cry like a baby.

  But when Caley wrapped her arms around him, burrowing against him...something had cracked loose. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he rubbed his chest hoping it would soothe the ache that thumped there.

  It had throbbed all night as he sat in a waiting room chair whi
le Caley had kept vigil at Miss Whittle’s bedside.

  Didn’t look like Miss Whittle’s son needed to fly in, though he had offered. She had been cleared to come home this morning at 0900.

  Now, Shep sat in one of Caley’s Adirondack chairs, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for his Alpha Charlie from Wilder. But he’d take his reprimand like a good soldier. He’d let some dude give him the slip. Twice. Meaning Caley was still a sitting duck.

  Shep had been trained to take down an enemy. Didn’t matter if he wasn’t familiar with the landscape. He should have taken the guy to the ground, gotten answers and been on the cruise liner to the West Indies—the next mission. No feelings involved. Wilder answered and Shep gave him the rundown of events.

  “So you have no leads? Nothing to give Tom?” Wilder asked. His voice remained calm. Too calm. Shep knew Wilder well enough to know it meant a storm was brewing underneath his tone.

  Bearer of more bad news. “No. We have a theory.”

  “Oh! A theory. Well, of course. That’ll solve this case.” Sarcasm. Wilder’s typical way to reply when he was frustrated. Welcome to the club, bro. “A theory is nothing more than a good guess. You aren’t going to find squat on a good guess.”

  “You don’t say?” Shepherd bit the inside of his cheek. Wilder was his boss and his friend, but he didn’t need a further verbal bashing. He was beating himself up nice enough.

  “And if this person thinks my baby sister has something—something that might hurt him—then he’s not through with her yet, Lightman.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Flynn. If you don’t think I’m capable, take me off the assignment.”

  Wilder sighed. “It’s my sister. The only sister I have left, Shepherd. And I’m stuck clear across the world. I’m on edge.”

  Apology accepted. But it nagged Shepherd that Wilder would have relieved him had he been in the country.

  “You think the professor is shady?” Wilder asked, the brewing storm settling.

  “Definitely. But your sister doesn’t. She thinks everyone is all lollipops and rainbows. She plans to talk to him later today.”

  Wilder was quiet. “How old is this guy?”

  “Don’t know. Mid-to late-fifties maybe.” What did that matter?

  “You don’t think Caley is romantically involved with him, do you? That that’s why she’s so gung ho on his innocence?” Wilder asked.

  Shep’s gut clenched. “No.”

  “Mentorship can slip into hero worship, which can lead to a romantic relationship or denial of any wrongdoing on the mentor’s part.”

  Shep rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve been talking with our resident headshrinker, Cosette.”

  “Well, she’s right. It happens. It could be happening to my sister.”

  Shep scratched the back of his neck. “She hasn’t acted like there’s anything more than mentorship.”

  “But she’s naive, Shep. You basically said it yourself.”

  No. What he’d said was that she saw the best in people which made her vulnerable, not naive. “I think it’s platonic, dude.”

  “Good. She deserves a stand-up guy who will treat her right and not take advantage of her. And I plan to be the wall he’ll have to tear down to get to her. If there’s anyone good enough out there for her.” He chuckled. “Anything else?”

  That description didn’t define Shepherd in the least. And even Wilder knew it. Not that Shep would pursue anything. He wouldn’t. But if he tried, Wilder would be a wall he’d never get through; he knew too much of Shepherd’s old, rowdy ways. The scores of women he loved and left before they could leave him. A heaviness like pitchy tar oozed over his skin and he shuddered, working to forget the past. He wasn’t that man anymore.

  Time to jam it down, like a jack-in-the-box. Shep could hide his regrets in deep places, but over time the crank would turn until it all popped out unexpectedly, scaring him half to death before Shep shoved it back down again. His vicious cycle to live. Being here with Caley seemed to turn the crank faster.

  “I’m going to call Tom and have him look into Leo Fines. I don’t trust him,” Shepherd said, changing the subject.

  “Keep me posted. I don’t trust him either. And if he’s double-dealing, then I don’t want my sister near him. Don’t let her around him alone. Just in case.”

  “I’ll stay on her six.”

  “Yeah, not too close, bro.” He chuckled again.

  Shep gritted his teeth.

  “I’m kidding.”

  Was he?

  “I know you aren’t going there.”

  Of course not. That would be ridiculous. “I’m not interested in anything other than keeping your sister out of harm’s way.”

  “Right. And for as long as it takes, right? Because I’m still tied up and so is everyone else.”

  Meaning Shep could kiss his cruise bon voyage. “It’s fine.” He’d already vowed to do whatever it took for as long as it took. He was determined to protect Caley. He’d get it right.

  “I’m sorry. I thought she was being paranoid. I can get Wheezer on the computer analysis end. See what turns up on Leo Fines.”

  Wheezer had once been a major hacker for the wrong team. He could find things that someone in the TBPD might not be able to.

  “Once this is over, I really mean it, man. A new cruise. A week longer than you originally planned. On me.”

  “I’m holding you to it.”

  “Is Caley around to talk to?” Wilder asked.

  “She’s inside with Miss Whittle. Getting her settled.”

  “What’d the doc say about her? Sweet old lady. Met her a time or two.”

  “Nothing broken. Just bruised up. Came into the kitchen to make tea after a nap. Before she knew it, she was knocked down. Hit her head on the counter. Concussion but heart looks good. They only kept her last night.”

  “How did she not hear someone trashing the place?”

  “Hearing aids weren’t in for the nap. Her bedroom is off the kitchen so she didn’t see the living room.”

  “Good. It could have been so much worse if she had.”

  “Yeah. I guess Caley will want to clean the house up, and she wants to go to Fines with these other occurrences. She thinks he’ll change his tune. I’m interested to hear his thoughts.” He might not be so much corrupt as he is selfish—wanting to save his own hide at the expense of finding justice for Mary Beth and for Caley’s well-being. Both motives disgusted Shep.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I get a chance. In the meantime, failure is not an option, Shep. This is my baby sister.”

  “Roger that, Flynn.”

  He could not—would not—fail.

  FOUR

  “Miss Whittle, can I get you anything? Tea? Ice pack? Your knitting?” Caley asked as Miss Whittle shifted in the bed. Thankfully, this room hadn’t been destroyed. Which meant whoever was in the house knew Miss Whittle wouldn’t have anything that belonged to Mary Beth. Caley’s room had been trashed, and her office even more so, which meant they believed she had something worth hurting—or killing—over. Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she worked to mask the fear for Miss Whittle.

  “No, hon. I’m tired, is all. A bump to the head will do that.” She gave a thin-lipped smile. “Times like this make me miss JC. He wouldn’t have let some ruffian in the house. And he sure wouldn’t have let someone knock me down.” Her smile spread wider at the mention of her husband, bringing sunshine to her lovely face. She was a firm believer in the pink-colored moisturizer. It had paid off. She didn’t look her age at all.

  “He was a pilot, wasn’t he?”

  “An ace. In the Korean War. Not everyone gained that kind of status. But my JC was special. Tough as nails. Soft inside. And handsome. Oh, just look.” She pointed to the dresser. Several black-and-white photos of her late husband.

  “He was a looker for sure.” Caley browsed the photos. “I’m sorry this happened, Miss Whittle
. I can’t apologize enough but Shepherd is here now and he won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

  Miss Whittle smoothed her quilt. “I believe it. He reminds me of my JC. Grit and goodness. Nothing like a man full of those two ingredients.”

  Caley chuckled. “I’m going to start the cleanup process. Mrs. Amberly said she’d come by later to sit with you while I run some errands. The gala is coming up and I have a ton of work to do.”

  “I appreciate your looking after me. Do what you need to, hon. I’ll be okay. Good Lord’s with me. Always and no matter what.” She placed a bony hand on her chest, toying with the gold cross she wore. A symbol of her strong faith.

  Caley slipped out and into the living room. Shep hauled a black industrial-sized garbage bag to the street. They’d managed to straighten the living room. She’d started on her bedroom, but it was all so overwhelming. She hadn’t noticed anything missing.

  But what would they want?

  She had nothing of Mary Beth’s.

  Caley needed to get the office in order. After the intruder’s grand display, Shep had declared the futon his new place to bunk until...when? He’d canceled his cruise, which Caley hated, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be alone.

  He opened the front door and wiped his brow with his corded forearm. He hadn’t shaved and his scruff gave him a rugged edge. “How’s Miss Whittle?”

  “Good considering.” She laid her hands on her hips. “You talk to Wilder?”

  “Yep.”

  Caley waited a beat for further information.

  None came.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And he’s going to do some stuff on his end while we work things out on ours.” He ran his tongue over his pearly whites. His front left tooth was only slightly shorter than the right, his bottom row uneven. Unlike Caley, who had gone through three years of braces to correct some small shifts in her teeth. But perfectly straight teeth wouldn’t fit Shepherd. He was unique down to his minor crooked teeth.