A Question of Honor (17 page)

“That’s a wonderful compliment. Thank you.”

She shot him a knowing look. “I have the distinct feeling that everything you touch is in some way better for the experience.”

Noah laughed, pouring them both more wine. “You’re no slouch, either, Anderson. My life hasn’t been the same since you arrived.” And then he added, “It’s been better. And you’re right. We both need to keep our focus on our job and place our personal needs aside for now.”

“Yes,” Kit agreed. She wanted to tell him that being in his arms was heaven. It was healing and wonderful and… She gave him a tender smile. “You’ve given me so much in such a short time, Noah. And all of it has been so—” Kit groped for the words to convey her feelings. “I don’t know how to say it. Only that you’ve made me feel again. And feel good about myself for the first time in years.” She reached out, shyly touching his hand, aware of the wiry texture of hair that covered its broad expanse. “You’ve given me so much in precious little time, and I want and need time to assimilate it all. To adjust to this new me.” Kit’s eyes grew cautious. “Our future is like a box of explosives that could detonate in our face at a moment’s notice until we collar Garcia. I don’t know where we’re going with each other, Noah. I only know that we’re both worth too much to throw this away on a whim. I need time to iron myself out emotionally. In all fairness to you, I don’t feel I’ve contributed much to our unique arrangement beyond being a moody house guest.”

A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “If you’re talking about getting up and pacing the halls at night, don’t give it a second thought.”

She withdrew her hand from his. “The nightmares have finally stopped. Ever since you held me when I cried, I’ve been able to sleep nights.”

“Listen to me, Kitten,” Noah coaxed huskily, “you’re made of silk. You’re tough, resilient, beautiful and exotic. Right now you don’t know it, but you’re one of a kind. I saw that right away in you, and you’re in the process of realizing it yourself.”

Tears marred her vision, and Noah’s face blurred as Kit looked at him. “In the time I’ve been here with you, I have changed for the better. With your help, I’ve gotten rid of a lot of my past.”

“You’re on the road to recovery,” Noah agreed. And if he was willing to admit it, he thought, he wanted to be a continued part of Kit’s healing process. She brought out the best in him.

Kit got to her feet and went to the drain board, staring out the window for a long moment. Finally she turned and leaned against the counter, meeting Noah’s patient gaze.

“I’m glad we could talk this out. I feel better.”

Noah wanted to go to her and hold her, but it was impossible. He had given his word to back off and wait. Trying to ignore the sensual tension strung tautly between them was going to be tough. The phone rang, breaking that tenuous cord that bound them.

Noah rose and answered the call on the kitchen phone. “Lieutenant Trayhern speaking.”

“Trayhern, this is Cordeman.”

Flicking a glance over at Kit, Noah found himself automatically wanting to protect her from any more narc activity. His voice hardened. “It’s Saturday evening, Cordeman.”

“Can’t help it. How’s our house guest getting along?”

Angry because the police supervisor had interrupted the tenderness he and Kit had shared, Noah growled, “Just fine. What’s going on that I deserve the honor of this phone call on the weekend?”

“Just wanted to let you know that the U.S. Navy is picking up an awful lot of activity at all the major choke points. Also, our DEA undercover agent had brought back word that Garcia is getting ready to move the
Marie-Elise
, his personal two-hundred-foot yacht, out for a meeting with smaller drug dealers’ boats.”

His hand tightened on the phone, his eyes never leaving Kit’s face. “When?”

“No sure answer to that, Lieutenant. All we know is that Garcia is behind the increased drug trafficking you’ve been meeting head-on the past few weeks. We think he’s going to continue this onslaught to try to keep the attention of the CG cutters—clearing the way for him to drop his bales of marijuana in some safe harbor without the possibility of a bust.”

“So the pond’s heating up.” That meant sixteen-hour days and probably weekend duty.

“You got it. The U.S. Navy P3 will be doing a flyover of the Colombian coast to keep an eye on Garcia’s ship. When it moves, we know he’s going to meet with the dealers. You’ll be notified as soon as possible so you and the
Osprey
can get into position.”

“Fine,” Noah answered.

“Tell your house guest hello for me, will you?”

“Yes.” The word came out clipped, and Noah hung up the phone, glaring down at the tiled floor.

Kit moved over to where he stood. “That was Chuck. What did he want?”

Grudgingly Noah filled her in and he saw some of the old terror coming back to Kit’s eyes. Unthinkingly he reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. Damn! Reluctantly he removed his hand. “It’s going to be hard not being intimate with you,” he muttered, a sour smile on his mouth.

“I know,” Kit whispered, moving to a safer distance from Noah. Struggling to maintain a professional demeanor with him, Kit changed subjects. “So Garcia’s going to step up the pace of boats smuggling drugs to our coast.”

“Yes. He’s trying to pull a decoy maneuver so his drop of bales to the dealers will go unimpeded.”

Kit turned to face the counter. Their dinner needed to be finished, although in all honesty, she was no longer hungry. She went through the motions of preparing a salad. Noah moved around the room, tightly wound with energy. It felt as if he were going to explode any second.

“Did Chuck say how he’s doing?” she asked, wanting to defuse Noah’s tension.

Shrugging, Noah sat down, staring moodily at the glass of wine. “Fine, I guess.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t exactly see your old boss as a nice person, no.”

She peeled a carrot, slicing it into the bowl. “Why?”

“Cordeman’s more concerned with results than he is with his people.”

“Isn’t that a bit cruel?” Kit demanded, taking issue with his abrupt assessment.

“He used you, Kit. I don’t respect someone who burns out his best people.”

Kit rested her hands on the sink, feeling she had to defend Chuck. “Look, no one’s perfect, Noah. Chuck has his shortcomings, but I’ll never forget that he was the only one there for me when the chips were down. He’s gruff, yes, but he’s not really callous.” She chewed on her lower lip, watching Noah’s face darken.

His mouth thinned. “Let’s not fight, Kit. Particularly over Cordeman. It isn’t necessary.”

She began to slice a ripe, red tomato. “Okay,” she whispered. “Life’s too short to spend it on disagreements. God knows, we do enough fighting with the druggies.”

“Our home is a haven against that.”

She raised her eyes. “That’s an understatement. It’s the only place where we can escape.”

The noose was closing around them. Noah sensed it. “Well, as long as Dante doesn’t discover where you are, that’s a big point in our favor,” he groused, more to himself than her.

She put the tomatoes in the salad, choosing a scallion to add to it. “Every month I lived at Garcia’s fortress with Dante at his side, I sweated. I knew the longer I stayed, the higher my chances were of being discovered.”

“No wonder you ended up with stomach ulcers.”

Kit pursed her lips. “Well, Chuck told me ulcers and migraines are the occupational hazards of an undercover agent.”

“So much for Cordeman’s philosophy. If he’d taken better care of you, the ulcers wouldn’t have been the outcome.”

Kit ignored the jab, realizing that no matter what she said about her other boss, Noah wasn’t going to agree. A shiver coursed down her spine.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kit muttered, wiping her hands on a towel.

Noah got to his feet, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. God, she looked incredibly unguarded at that moment. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and caressing her flushed cheek. “Tell me,” he commanded.

Kit shivered beneath Noah’s low, disturbing voice. She took an unsteady breath, aware of the desire within her to kiss that male mouth that tore her senses apart. He lifted her above every fear and depression into the yearning euphoria she hungered to explore with him again. She saw so much in his eyes, wanting to lose herself within them and know that she was safe. A broken smile came to her lips.

“It’s Dante,” she admitted.

He searched Kit’s very still face, and his hands tightened on her shoulders. “And?”

“Dante’s a snake, Noah.” Her eyes glazed with the remembrance that had haunted her nightly dreams with regularity. “I worked with that sick bastard for a year down there at the Colombian fortress. I sweated around Dante more than all of them put together. I never knew if he was going to pull a knife on me or what.”

“Did he try to—”

She grimaced. “No, thank God. He had other preferences besides women. I suppose I should be thankful, but…” Her voice trailed off as she relived one frightening episode with Dante. She felt Noah’s hand sliding down her hair in a reassuring gesture. Forcing a smile, Kit said, “I’m too old for this business, Noah. I’ve seen too much.”

“Maybe you ought to resign,” he murmured, “and go after that teaching certificate.”

Reluctantly Kit withdrew from him, turning to put the salad on the table. “Maybe I should.”

Frustrated by the vise Kit was caught in, Noah busied himself setting the table. He wanted to say;
Dammit, Cordeman has pulled out every human emotion you had and then put it through a blender, Kit. You need a nice safe job like teaching. You don’t need street action to tear holes in your stomach and shatter your senses.
But he remained silent, realizing Kit would no more quit Operation Storm than Cordeman would. Was her life worth getting Garcia? He didn’t think so, wishing mightily for an escape for her. But there was none. They had to take things one week at a time, netting the drug dealers trying to reach the Florida coast, waiting and watching for Garcia to make his move.

Chapter Ten

S
omething was wrong. Kit could sense it. After another grueling month of seven-day weeks, she had come down with stomach flu on Friday and stayed home. Noah had left that morning without her for the first time. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall: it was now 8:00 p.m. He’d promised that if he was going to be late, someone from Coast Guard headquarters would notify her. But no call had come. Where was he?

The police portion of her brain began to work overtime. Dante and his contract killers were making every effort to find her, according to the snitches. Had they discovered that Noah was protecting her? Had they kidnapped him as he stepped off the
Osprey
? Killed him? She escaped to the living room, a deep sense of anguish searing through her.

Biting her lower lip, Kit stared at the front door.
Come through the door,
she begged silently.
Please, Noah, just come home….
Burying her face in her hands, Kit forced herself to take a deep breath. What was happening to her? Living with Noah since they had made love had been like a never-ending dream. The warmth between them was undeniable, just as the longing in his stormy green eyes when she caught him staring at her during quiet moments at home was nearly unbearable. They wanted each other so badly. But if they allowed their emotions to rule their heads, it would take their alertness away from the danger that surrounded them, and possibly get them killed.

Kit paced back and forth from the living room to the foyer. She had planned a special dinner for Noah tonight to let him know how much she missed being at his side. Her lips thinned, and she walked over to the phone sitting on the lamp table in the living room. She had to call someone…but whom? She picked up the address book on the table and flipped to the last page where Noah had scribbled the number he could be reached at in an emergency.

Her hand hovered over the phone. She wasn’t supposed to make a call for any reason! The line might be tapped, and her cover would be blown. Snitches who worked for Dante could be anywhere. Kit’s eyes narrowed as she stared down at the phone. Swallowing convulsively, she made the decision. Just as she touched the receiver, the phone rang. Startled, Kit jerked her hand back, her heart slamming against her rib cage.

The phone rang four times before she reached out to pick up the receiver. She wasn’t supposed to answer the phone either, but Kit couldn’t combat the terror she was experiencing….

“We’ve got a live one, Skipper,” Joe said excitedly.

Handing the hot list to the ensign, Noah smiled grimly. “The
Sanchez
is registered in the U.S. This is our lucky day.”

Noah motioned for the ensign to take over the helm, and watched the hundred-foot ship bobbing a mile away from them. “This is the second one today,” he muttered, thinking that this meant he wasn’t going to make it home before midnight. The sun had already set. Worried about Kit all day, he hadn’t been as alert as he might have been. She had been deathly sick all night. This morning when he’d gone to her bedroom, she’d still been weak from the flu.

“She’s definitely low profile,” Joe said, pointing at the ship.

“Yes.” Twisting around, Noah ordered the boarding party to prepare for another search.

The
Osprey
came alive, but Noah remained seemingly immune to the sudden activity surrounding him. The thrumming of the
Osprey
’s mighty engines accelerating to close the distance between it and the
Sanchez
filled the air. He pulled his baseball cap an inch lower, his gaze intent on the other boat.

“You taking this boarding, Skipper?” Edwards wanted to know.

“Yes. I’ll run it from the deck of the
Sanchez
. You stay on the bridge and coordinate the radio and other necessary communications.”

Edwards’s blue eyes danced with excitement. “I wish it was my turn.”

A thread of a noncommittal smile pulled at Noah’s mouth. He was aware of everything at the moment. Adrenaline was surging through his bloodstream, heightening his five senses and giving him that extrasensory perception that might be needed—might save him or one of his men from death by a smuggler’s bullet. “Next time, Joe,” he murmured.