Locke and Load (3 page)

Every word hit Cage with an invisible blow to his gut. Hearing even the simplest details out loud hurt like a bastard. He clamped his jaw tight and waited the pain out. It would lessen in a minute.

Jersey took over. “We’ve combed the area countless times and came up with nothing except some grainy video footage from that camera,” he said, pointing above Cage’s head. “It’s in the lab undergoing some kind of special treatment to clear up the recording. You can barely make out an extra figure.”

Locke glanced from the camera back to Jersey. “I have a guy who’s a wiz at cameras and computers.”

I bet.

The woman probably had a bunch of guys ready at her beck and call. He must’ve grunted because he had two sets of eyes on him now. Let them wonder. He was pretty sure Locke knew what he was thinking.

Delaney frowned at him before turning back to the aide. “So, Ms. Locke…”

“Nikki, please,” she corrected, giving his partner a genuine smile.

Cage’s insides fisted. Damn his body for remembering how those lips had felt against his skin. The last thing he needed right now was unwanted reactions to this woman.

“Nikki,” Jersey corrected, returning her smile. “How did you become Mayor Thornhurst’s aide? Was it through Naval Intelligence?”

“No.” She laughed. “I don’t work for the mayor.”

“She works for Governor Patterson,” Cage replied. “Apparently, the mayor went to the governor for help and Patterson sent Locke.”

Delaney’s brows disappeared under his sun-streaked hair. “Wow. So you’re an analyst for the governor.”

She shook her head. “No. The governor called my boss and he sent me down here to help.”

“Sent you down?” It was Cage’s turn to frown. “Where are you from? Who the hell do you work for?”

Her chin rose while her gaze became guarded. “I’m an analyst from D.C.”

Of course she was. Cage threw his head back and laughed. The bark echoed around them and across the dock, holding no trace of mirth. Because he was far from amused. This woman was a piece of work. When he sobered, he had two gazes on him again.

“Wow.” He shook his head. Perfect place for her. “No telling how high you can go in Washington.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he had to give her credit. She played clueless really well. He almost believed her…almost.

“I have no idea why Rivera thought we could use a D.C. analyst.” Cage made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Do you see any politicians here?”

This time, Locke threw her head back and laughed. The sound rippled straight through his gut. He clenched his jaw and waited for her to stop.

“I analyze information. In this case, evidence. I’m an investigator just like you.”

“You’re
nothing
like me.” His voice sounded gruff, but he didn’t care. He was pissed. How the fuck could she compare them? He was trustworthy, she was not. Hell, he trusted Jersey a damn site more than he trusted her, and he’d known her longer.

Delaney smiled at Locke. “I have to say, Nikki, you have wonderful prowess with a backpack.”

She pulled her gaze off him to rest on his new partner. “Thanks,” she said, lifting the bag to her shoulder. “I believe in using what you have.”

Boy, did she ever. Cage had to fight another snort. When you lived without scruples, nothing was sacred. As much as the sight of her turned him on, she also made him sick.

Her smile disappeared as her gaze bounced between them. “Why don’t you walk me through the rest of that night?”

Cage just stared at her.

No way in hell.

He had no damn desire to spend time with her, and even less to hear the night’s events spoken out loud. Her quick summary earlier attested the fact.

As if knowing, his partner nodded and stepped forward. “Sure.”

He stood still, their voices fading as they moved down the dock toward the blood stain. He unclenched his jaw and exhaled. Seeing her again put him on edge, and he was already on edge. Hell, he was so far on the rim footholds began to disappear.

He turned his back to them and stared out over the Atlantic, watching the seagulls dive-bomb the surface. The sound of water lapping at the dock soothed some of his tension. He released another breath and relaxed his shoulders.

An analyst from D.C.

This time, he did snort. Ah hell, who knew? Maybe a fresh set of eyes would spot some kind of pattern or something they missed in the meager file. He thrust a hand through his hair. God, he hoped so. He just wanted justice for Drew.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard them return, but instead of jumping when her hand curved over his forearm, Cage stilled. Her softness burned through him in a heated wave. All the fury and betrayal couldn’t cancel out his body’s reaction to her touch.

“I’m sorry, Cage…I mean, Detective Burnett. I know Drew was a good friend.” She looked up at him through long lashes, nothing but compassion brimming in those gorgeous eyes.

Too bad.

He didn’t want her pity or her touch. Hell no. He wanted her gone. He wanted Drew’s murderer behind bars. He wanted this nightmare to end.

“Keep your sympathy, Ms. Locke.” He ripped his arm free and glowered down into her startled face. “Since I’m forced to accept your help, all I require is your assistance in gathering intelligence. Nothing more.”

Ignoring his new partner’s deepening frown and the woman’s glistening gaze, he strode down the dock. He would deal with her in a business capacity only. The captain ordered Cage to work with the woman…he never said he had to be nice.

N
ikki longed to splash cold water on her heated face and stinging eyes, but managed to blink back her emotions as she stared at her former fiancé’s retreating back.

What did she expect?

She’d broken his heart. Hell, she’d ripped it out and stomped on it with spiked heels…but cripes, she’d never had a choice.

Of course, he never knew…and never would.

Swallowing past the hot lump clogging her throat, she tried to make sense of the past few hours. On the flight down, she’d read the file Lisa had handed her, shocked to discover Drew Johnson was the victim. Her heart had squeezed, grieving for the man she met once when he’d stayed with her and Cage during his visit to Miami five years ago. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought Drew was Cage’s partner.

“Sorry.” Delaney’s blue eyes wore a friendly, apologetic expression. He lifted a broad shoulder and shook his head. “Burnett’s people skills seem to have died with his last partner.”

She lifted her chin and nodded. “It’s okay. I know he’s been through hell.”

Half of it was at her hands.

Cage waved his phone at them. “Come on. Hutchins called with a lead.”

Falling into step with the friendly detective, she let her gaze stray to his partner’s broad shoulders and the play of muscles rippling under the navy polo as he opened the gate to the parking lot. Memories of his magnificent body tormented her mind. Her pulse hiccupped.

Damn, this wasn’t going to be easy. She was like an arid desert starved for rain…and he was a monsoon. If not for the dire situation, she might have celebrated the momentous occasion with a smile. It had been years since the mere sight of a guy caused her body to react with anything other than disgust.

The silent, brooding man eventually stopped in front of a new red Mustang. She pushed the frenzied thoughts away and followed Detective Delaney to the passenger side, caressing the hood while she let out a whistle. “Nice ride.”

Nikki wondered if Cage still had the vintage model. They’d had a lot of fun in and
on
the old Mustang. The antique had held a lot of memories of a happier time in her life.

“That’s what I said when I first saw this beauty.” The light-haired detective turned to her and grinned.

She glanced across the hood at Cage. “Did you actually trade up?”

He grunted. “No…unlike some people I know.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Before she could comment, he was already behind the wheel. Nikki sighed, not bothering to try and dissect his words. It was a barb. She had a sinking feeling a lot were in her future.

Delaney held the front door open for her, but she waved him off. “No, thanks. I don’t mind the backseat.” No way could she sit next to her ex. She slipped inside in time to hear Cage mutter under his breath.

Another barb. Whatever he said, it couldn’t have been good. Not with the way his partner’s head snapped back and deep frown creased his brow.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two. You’ve obviously had a past, but I think you owe the lady an apology, Burnett.” All traces of warmth were gone from his voice.

Cage’s gaze crashed into hers through the rearview mirror. “Like hell. She’s the one who cheated.”

Nikki’s heart rocked in her tightening chest. Cripes. What could she say to that? That she’d faked it to keep him safe? No. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not with Rojas’ threat still ringing in her ears.

Besides, if Cage had any idea what had happened to her…the Columbian would be dead and her ex would be sitting in a jail cell.

Delaney turned in his seat and stared at her a long moment. “No way, man. You had to have been wrong,” he told his partner while holding her gaze.

What a sweetheart. A slice of warmth settled over her. He was a good judge of character. Unfortunately, now she was going to have to make him look bad.
Dammit!
She was here to solve a policeman’s murder, not to ring out dirty laundry.

This sucked. She swallowed and forced her mind to come up with something adequate. Something that would appease them both.

Impossible.

There was no passable response to placate them and the truth wasn’t possible. The best she could do was a half-truth. She transferred her gaze to the simmering detective.

“Four years ago, I made a mistake. A mistake I’ve regretted ever since. You’re right, Cage. I do owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”

His gaze darkened in the mirror and narrowed for a fraction of a second before becoming unreadable. “Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged and started the car with such force she was surprised he hadn’t broken the key off in the ignition. “We have work to do.”

She switched her attention to his partner. The northerner gave her a small smile before turning in his seat to buckle up. Nicole did the same, willing her hammering heart to find a steady beat.

One hurdle crossed.

God, she hoped there weren’t any more. She didn’t think she could take it. Her nerves were already stretched too thin.

Returning her mind to neutral ground, she focused on the case. “What about phones?” she asked, possibilities skittering through her mind. “Did you find anything out of place?”

Delaney shook his head. “That would be a
no
on Detective Johnson’s cell, house, and desk phones or his wife’s. All calls were accounted for.”

She settled back against the leather and dreaded the questions she was about to ask. “There are no concrete suspects from the people Drew put away?”

“No.”

She waited for Cage to elaborate on his cryptic reply. When that didn’t happen, she swallowed and continued. “So you don’t know if his murder was work related.”

“Well…no.” Delaney shook his head.

Cage’s frowning gaze shot to hers in the mirror. “What exactly are you getting at, Locke?”

She mustered the strength to hold his gaze, and her ground. “I think you know.”

“You’d better not be insinuating Drew’s wife is somehow to blame.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel and cursed. “’Cause I’ll tell you what I told Delaney. No way in hell!”

“Easy there, big guy,” his partner soothed, drawing Cage’s irritated gaze away. “It’s a viable question. We don’t know the woman like you do.”

After a tense moment, Cage nodded then turned his attention back to driving.

“I’m sorry, Detective Burnett. It needed to be asked. I’m just doing my job.” She leaned forward, still watching him in the rearview mirror. “Do you have any doubt the woman is innocent?”

Clear green eyes stared back at her before he firmly shook his head. “None.”

She nodded, then dropped her gaze to her hands before her emotions had a chance to resurface. It just plain hurt too much to look at him. Better to think about work. Her heart and mind told her she could trust Cage’s instinct where Drew’s wife was concerned, but she was trained to be thorough. Flipping open the heart charm on her bracelet, she silently contacted TJ and asked him to gather and send her everything on the widow.

“So, Nicole, are you originally from Miami?” Delaney surprised her with the question.

She blinked and stared at the back of the detective’s sun-kissed head. “No, I was born and raised in Northern Delaware.”

“Really?” He turned to try to look at her despite the seatbelt’s restraint. “I’m from New Jersey.”

A fact she’d already known. She could speak four languages and was extensively trained to identify dialect.

“I thought I detected a Jersey accent,” she told him with a smile. “Whereabouts? I’m guessing somewhere up north. My family used to vacation further south in Wildwood.”

“You’re good. I’m from Newark, but we vacationed in Wildwood, too.”

“Then you’ve no doubt had one of the best cheesesteaks ever made.” Her mouth dutifully watered just thinking about the hoagie.

“Absolutely.” Delaney nodded enthusiastically, his grin apparent from what little she could see of his face. “You have to be talking about The Hot Zone.”

She laughed. “Of course.”

“
Of course
, if you’re ready to work…we’re here,” Cage cut in, his tone clipped. He jammed the car in park and turned off the ignition. Again, she was surprised to see he wasn’t holding half a key.

Pushing Wildwood from her mind, she shifted her attention to her ex. His green gaze was cold and unfriendly. He was back to all business.

Fine.

She could do business. She had perfected the art of detachment over the past few years. At times, disconnection had been the only way she’d survived.

C
age watched the light disappear from Locke’s gaze and instantly detected a drop in temperature inside the car. He reminded himself he didn’t care, got out of the vehicle, and walked toward the two detectives waiting near a grove of palm trees where the beach met the sidewalk.

Hutchins and Wilson were leaning against a picnic table, binoculars to their faces as they gazed out over the Atlantic. Cage raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the late afternoon sun and stared at the sea. He could just make out what appeared to be a power yacht anchored a few miles off shore.

“What do you have?” he asked while Locke and Delaney joined them.

“We were able to identify the man from the video,” Hutchins replied as he and his partner lowered their binoculars and raised their brows. “Well…hello. You must be the aide the governor requested.”

“Yes, Nicole Locke. Nice to meet you.”

Cage waited until they finished shaking hands and introductions then stepped forward. Excitement kicked up his pulse. Finally, they might have an actual witness. “Great. Who is it? Who was identified on the tape?”

The video had been grainy, the lighting that night sucked, and it had been raining. Three strikes. The lab had really worked wonders if they were able to get a facial recognition match from the recording.

Hutchins and Wilson exchanged a look.

Ah shit, not good.
A faint pounding started in Cage’s temples. “What?”

Wilson ran a thumb over his eyebrow. “It’s Prochaska.”

Fuck.
Cage’s heart sank. “Are you sure?” The last thing they needed were diplomatic problems.

“Yes.” Hutchins nodded. “The lab filtered the film enough to get a perfect facial match.”

“Who’s Prochaska?” Jersey asked, his gaze bouncing from him to Hutchins to Wilson then back again.

Locke looked on, her brown gaze full of contemplation.

“He claims to be a businessman,” Hutchins answered. “But we suspect he’s an arms dealer.”

Locke spoke up from behind. “Why can’t you bring him in for questioning?”

Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.

“We can’t,” Wilson explained. “He works out of the Czech Embassy in Fort Lauderdale.”

Wilson nodded, waving his binoculars toward the boat. “And I just checked. The yacht is registered to that embassy.”

Cage didn’t bother to muffle a curse. “And you saw him get on there?”

“Yes.” Wilson nodded again. “We followed him here, but he boarded the yacht before we even got out of the car. That’s when we ran the registration.”

Delaney sighed. “That means we can’t board the yacht.”

“Precisely.” Disgust soured the senior detective’s features to match Wilson’s.

Damn.
Cage began to pace. There was no way he was letting diplomatic immunity stop him from finding out who killed Drew. No fucking way.

“What if
he
came to you?” Locke asked, brow arched, gaze serious.

He stopped and frowned. “What do you mean?”

Did she know some sort of procedure he wasn’t privy to? Had the governor given her special authority? His gut churned. Something told him he wasn’t going to like the answer.

The other detectives now stared at her.

“If he steps foot on the beach…you can question him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then pop the trunk.”

“What?”

“I said, pop the trunk,” she repeated, unbraiding her hair as she walked back to his car.

He followed with the others on his heel.

“What are you going to do?” Jersey asked.

“Yeah,” Wilson echoed. “What are you planning?”

She twisted around, the wind whipping her long hair into her face. Cage stepped back and jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from giving into the sudden urge to touch the silky strands.

She pushed the dark mass back and shrugged. “You need him on the beach. I’m going to deliver him. Now, show me a recent photo.”

Wilson immediately shoved his phone at her. “Here. Marek Prochaska.”

She studied the photo a moment. “Thanks.” She removed her sandals then looked passed the men to him. “Are you going to pop the trunk? Or would you rather I just store them in the backseat?”