Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (11 page)

They didn’t know how handle it when a man showed interest in them.

“Emily.” The man put his phone in his jacket pocket and stared at her. “Good morning.”

Emily didn’t repeat the greeting. Wow, this guy—whom she obviously knew—must have really pissed her off somehow.

Joy glanced around. She had to get to Brad ASAP or he’d start hiking to General Grimes’s, and she’d be out of touch with him until he showed up there tonight.

“I’ve got to go. Emily, I’ll see you later, okay? Bye!” She smiled at Emily and was stricken by the shock on her friend’s face. Emily raised her hand.

“Later, Joy.”

Joy told herself she deserved to go to hell. Not just for lying so blatantly to Emily, but for leaving her to contend with a dude she obviously wasn’t pleased with. It broke girlfriend etiquette.

But Joy didn’t have time for manners.

* * *

“C
AN
I
BUY
you a cup of coffee?” Dr. Ben Franklin, US Navy Commander and Pediatrician, showed no sign of the exhaustion Emily felt to her bones. Blast the man.

“No, thanks.” She made a show of smoothing her fleece jacket over her bike pants and headed to the shop door.

“You can’t keep avoiding me, Em.” He fell into step beside her, and she wanted to scream.

“It’s
Emily
. And I’m not avoiding you.” She refused to look at him. That had been her undoing. His expression. His knowing eyes. His mouth—she couldn’t let herself think about his mouth.

“You are.” He reached around her and opened the coffee shop door.

Of course he was a gentleman. As well as a Navy Commander. Oh, and a highly respected doctor.

“Thank you.”

The immediate warmth of the shop and the hum of voices calmed her reaction to him. A bit.

“I see you worked out after our shift.”

“Yes.”

“I was in the gym, too, but mostly I ran the path. A good workout after a hard shift is the best ‘sleeping pill’ I’ve ever known.” He referred to Naval Air Station Whidbey’s running path, which had magnificent views of the water.

“I go to the spin class on Tuesdays. When I’m getting off the night shift, it’s perfect.”

“Do you like it?”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.” She fixed him with her death stare, developed during years of working with sometimes-arrogant doctors who were a little too sure of their ability and not so good at listening to mothers in labor.

All it got her was a flurry of awareness as he met her stare with a steady gaze that made no attempt to disguise his interest in her.

He grasped her wrist, his hand gentle. “Please, Emily. Let me buy you coffee, and breakfast if you haven’t had it. I need to talk to you.”

If he’d said “we need to talk” or “you need to hear me out” or “let’s be adults about this,” she would’ve walked away and found solace in a bowl of Cheerios and the stale store-bought coffee nestled in her refrigerator door.

She was trained to take care of others, trained to assess, to listen to a patient’s needs.

Ben wasn’t a patient, but his request was genuine.

“Okay. But it’s not a date, Ben. I mean it.”

“Who’s putting labels on anything?”

CHAPTER TEN

S
HARP
PAINS
SEARED
Joy’s chest, and she briefly wondered if she was having a heart attack.

It was the damned coffee. She was more of a tea drinker, and having so much coffee on an empty stomach—no, make that a
nervous
empty stomach—had kicked up her GERD. Gastroesophageal Reflux Disorder, the bane of overachievers worldwide.

She’d been diagnosed with it after her tour in Norfolk. During the long months when she’d told herself she was crazy to fall for a man she’d never kissed, a man who was off-limits to her.

It wasn’t a cardiac event. It was her GERD.

She rummaged in her purse for the bagel and took a bite, chewing as she drove back toward their rendezvous point. Brad had said he’d see her and come out of the woods and onto the road. Under no circumstances was she to park her car or get out to look for him. He said it was a standard precaution and made her promise to follow it.

Her hands were shaking again. What was she so damned afraid of? Death—that was a good thing to be afraid of.

You’re afraid you’re doing this because you’ve fallen for Brad, not because it’s the right decision
.

Maybe.

Her GERD could be attributed to fear, too. She’d never faced the possibility of running for her life before. The circumstances with Brad had put this fear in her belly. Definitely Brad.

She was putting her entire life on the line for him. Everything she’d worked for over the past several years and especially this last year. It wasn’t only her new job or her hope for a satisfying civilian career and a local community to call home that were at risk. If she blew this, she’d also find herself dishonorably discharged from the Navy and disbarred from the legal profession.

Finding employment with a dishonorable discharge was problematic, to say the least.

She threw the bagel back in her bag. Nothing was going to taste good until Brad’s situation was resolved. Worst case? She’d end up dead alongside him. Someone, or several someones, had their sights on him, and if her hunch was correct, this had been going on for a long time. Since the op in which he’d met Farid...

As she approached West Beach, she slowed near the road they’d chosen as their rendezvous point. There was no sign of Brad in the tall grasses and weeds that grew from the shoulder up onto the slight rise and the fields. She looked between the trunks of fir and cedar trees that lined the wooded areas. No luck. Movement in the shadows caught her eye, and hope flared. Until she identified it as a small Whidbey Island doe, staring thoughtfully at Joy’s vehicle while she chewed brush.

Awareness of needing to blend in with local traffic, while slowing down enough not to miss Brad, increased her nausea, and she turned the AC on full blast.

She was seven minutes late. Not bad considering she’d had to deal with both Paul and Emily. But in Brad’s world, seven seconds could mean the difference between life and death, and to make it seven
minutes
, well...

“Don’t lose it now.” She forced her spine straight and lowered the windows to let in the fresh morning air. The warmth of September was in the scent of the pine needles that had roasted in the sun all month long. August had been lovely, but September was almost always the warmest and sunniest month on Whidbey.

“Hey!”

The shout reached her just as she was about to turn around and go back past the kennels. She looked in the rear-and side-view mirrors; thankfully, no one was on the road with her, not even a bicyclist.

She brought the car to a quick stop on the shoulder, and she waited, prepared to make a U-turn if necessary. Seemingly out of nowhere, a figure lunged at the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Unlock it!”

Brad’s voice jolted her from her momentary shock, and she unlocked the doors with the button on her left armrest. She felt a rush of air as he opened the back passenger door, heard a slam, and then he disappeared from her rearview mirror.

She turned, straining, to see him in the well between the back and front seats.

The car immediately filled with the scent of pine and cedar he’d brought with him. His profile against the lower part of the backseat was stark, and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days instead of having a substantial breakfast with her a couple of hours ago.

Before the sun came up.

“Go, go!” Brad gestured at her, urging her to turn around and drive.

“I’m going!”

“What the hell took you so long?”

“I had company.”

“What kind of company?”

“I thought I was being followed. Well, I
was
being followed—so I drove to Starbucks instead of coming to get you, just like you told me. It turned out to be my boss. And then after I got rid of him, I ran into a good friend who, by the way, I’m supposed to meet tonight at her book signing in Coupeville.”

“Forget that.”

“It’s not that easy.” She breathed out a sigh of frustration. “I think we made the right decision. It’s probably better if I keep up the appearance of sticking to my usual routine. Even if I’m questioned, no one can
prove
you were in my house, and I won’t have anything to tell them.”

“You know I’ll be at General Grimes’s.”

“No, I won’t. The only thing I’ll know is that I dropped you off somewhere south of Coupeville, along the Old Farm Road. I won’t have any idea
exactly
where you are.”

“Unless you’re right, and he does know something about the big guns behind the cell I’ve infiltrated.”

“Yes.” She kept driving.

* * *

B
RAD
HAD
BEEN
in worse getaway situations than on the back floor of Joy Alexander’s crossover vehicle. The most damnable piece of this whole mess was that each moment he spent with Joy drew her deeper into the possibility of getting hurt.

Risk was part of the life he’d chosen. And it was the same for the other team members, no matter what service or agency.

Joy was different. Sure, she’d worn a uniform, had been a JAG. She’d taken the same oath of office he had, and since she’d signed up during wartime, she knew her life could be at risk, like that of any other sailor.

She hadn’t signed up for this mission, though. He’d dragged her into it. After keeping her out of the worst of his disaster of a life after Norfolk, he’d shown up on her doorstep yesterday and all but forced her to help him.

His hope that there’d ever be a right time for them was crushed by the knowledge that he’d been so selfish in going to her.

Although there was no other JAG, no other person, he trusted as much as Joy.

Shit. He was in deeper than he’d realized.

“You okay back there?”

Her voice had a catch in it that he remembered from Virginia. Whenever the case had her stymied or he hadn’t given her the answer she’d expected, her voice started to quaver the tiniest bit. He didn’t think anyone else noticed it, but he had.

He’d noticed an awful lot about Joy.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Are you sure you know where Grimes lives?”

“Well, sort of. I’m fairly certain it’s between two different developments, off the beaten path. I’ve been down here for parties with my knitting group.”

He grunted to himself. The thought of lawyerly Joy Alexander looking all domestic as she held two needles and a piece of yarn contrasted with the woman who’d defended Farid with her entire legal arsenal.

“I heard that.” Of course she had.

“Knitting group is the new cocktail hour, you know.”

“Make mine on the rocks.”

“Very funny. Which brings me back to the book signing. I have to show up there, Brad. Too many questions are going to come up if I don’t. I never miss knitting group unless I’m sick—or when I had watch. Now I have a new job, so I was able to explain why I missed Emily’s signing in Oak Harbor last night. But the other gals will wonder what’s happened to me if I don’t show for her signing tonight.”

He knew she was right, but he didn’t like the idea of—of what?

Being away from her. Not having her nearby, within view.

“Okay. After you drop me at Grimes’s, go to work. Go through the day as you normally would.”

And forget you ever saw me
.

“I will. I should get the files by this afternoon.”

“If General Grimes doesn’t have what we need, they’ll be my only chance. You still checking to see if anyone out there is watching you? Following us?”

He studied her profile as she looked in her rearview and side mirrors before returning her focus to the road. Joy wasn’t classically beautiful; she was stunning. Her straight, uncompromising nose was balanced by her full lips. Lips that had been so soft under his.

“Not that I can tell.”

He half sat up and rested his head against the side of the passenger seat. He could see her profile, but he was still out of sight.

“You’ve done enough for me, Joy. If you get what we need from the files, just report your findings to the base NCIS. They’ll be able to get the truth to the right people.”

“Do you really believe that, Brad?” She turned to send him a no-nonsense glare, and his heart stopped as he saw tears glimmering in her eyes.

“Watch the road, Joy.” He couldn’t allow himself to care for this beautiful woman, no matter how he felt about her. These were emotions he’d never experienced before. There was something intense between them, all right. That intensity was what had him on edge, even more than the fact that his cover might’ve been blown.

Because the moment he let any emotion get in the way of a mission was the moment it went to hell.

“Your fiancée, Brad—what happened there?”

“She was killed. You read the reports before you signed my alibi.”

“I did. I’m not asking how she died. What I mean is, why did you fall in love with her?” Only Joy would be asking him about his deep dark secrets while he crouched on the floor of her backseat.

“I thought it was time for me to start the family life. I’d hit thirty, and I was the last single guy on my team.”

“Fair enough, but what really attracted you to her?”

“She needed me.”

“Was she using before you met her?”

“Yes. Look, Joy, I’m from a family of doctors. We’ve all got the caretaking gene, if you want to call it that. It’s a characteristic that’s ingrained in us. I went overboard with Marci, trying to heal someone who didn’t want to be healed. It was a relationship that never had a chance.”

At his silence, she shook her head and he could feel her incredulity before she spoke again. “Did you tell her that?”

“No. There was no point. I broke it off. I’d just realized that I’d agreed to marry her out of compassion or, rather, what I thought was compassion.”

“But?”

He flicked his thumb against the leather of her seat cushion several times.

“
But
is the crux of it. My caring was really my attempt at playing God, thinking I could fix her, control her intake of drugs and booze.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this in Norfolk, Brad?”

“It’s not that complicated. You were an officer.”

And he’d been enlisted. Now that they were both free to pursue a relationship with each other, it didn’t matter. His life was too chaotic, and Joy’s was too...neat. Controlled.

Bile rose in his throat at the reminder of his pain at finding out Marci was dead. And then to find out she’d been brutally murdered for less than fifty bucks worth of heroin...

“Sorry for bringing it up again.”

“No, I’m sorry, Joy. Getting you involved in my life is a big mistake.”

“We’ve already had this conversation. Several times. Now, be quiet while I find the general’s house.”

He couldn’t help Joy navigate, so he settled back onto the floor of the car, feeling his own self-loathing in every bone.

* * *

J
OY
KNEW
OF
four or five homes nestled in the backwoods area where she drove along a winding road. She was fairly certain one of them was General Grimes’s. He’d taken all the measures needed to keep his location private, avoiding social media and not appearing on any websites or internet lists. She hadn’t been able to find his address in various searches on her personal laptop, and didn’t want to use her work computer yesterday to look up any information related to the case.

Thankfully, Whidbey had a small-town air, and she remembered hearing one or two of her knitting-group buddies mention a newly retired military bachelor who’d recently moved in.

Not that she thought of General Grimes as a
bachelor
. The man was pure military leadership, the stuff history was made of.

Having Brad so near, even on the floor of her car, was distracting. She’d never questioned her driving skills before today.

She braked in front of one driveway that looked promising, only to see the name “Farley” on the mailbox.

“Are we there?” Brad’s voice rumbled up from the car floor.

“Not yet. Sorry about the quick stop.”

“No problem. My head’s battle-hardened, didn’t you know?”

“I have no doubt.”

She smiled but kept her gaze on the shoulder of the road, looking for the next mailbox. Feeling a sense of relief, she drew closer to a bright red and yellow mailbox with the unmistakable emblem of the US Marine Corps on its side. Even the reclusive General Grimes wasn’t above showing his pride.

“I think I’ve found it.”

“You’re not sure?”

“As sure as I can be at the moment.” The homes on this stretch were all in a price range the average military pension could never afford. The pension of a retired flag officer, however, fit the bill. She swung onto the graveled road and concentrated on not hitting any of the potholes.

Her initial exuberance deflated when she came grill-to-bar with a closed gate.

“Where are we?”

“Nowhere. We’re at the gate to the property—and it’s locked. I think I should get you past this point instead of what we planned.” She saw a call box and lowered her window. “Be quiet.”

“Yes?” A gruff, familiar voice boomed through the tiny speakers.