Shooting the SEAL (Saving the SEALs Series Book 1) (4 page)

Gage was working up a sweat on the punching bag. He had been unable to get the information he wanted, he hadn’t so much as gotten a goodnight kiss from Anna, and now he had his face on the news. Not good when he’d been told to stay out of sight.

He’d left his cellphone at home after special investigations had left a message, asking him to return to the base for questioning. He’d also grabbed a bag and had checked into a hotel, and now he was taking advantage of their exercise room. It was a good one. He’d try to see Anna later, after she finished looking over the wreckage of her office.

Anna. The only good thing to come from all of this. Maybe.

He still didn’t know how she was involved in any of this—only that she was a woman who gave away a prize won for her to a little girl who needed it more that she did.

Spinning around, he delivered a series of roundhouse kicks that left him gasping for breath. He still had no lead on Natalie, and he sure as hell didn’t need investigators breathing down his neck over what had happened at Coran Williams publishing. It was time for a new strategy. That meant he needed Anna, but he didn’t want her thinking that was the only reason why he wanted to see her. Especially after the dinner they’d had together.

He was about to start another round on the punching bag, but a towel wrapped around his neck. Grabbing it, he turned around.

Scotty wagged a six-pack at him. “Take a break?”

Nodding, Gage wiped the sweat off his neck and face. They headed out of the exercise room and took the elevator up to Gage’s room. He’d booked into The Jefferson, more for the discreet service than the luxury. Settling on the balcony, Scotty pulled out two beers and handed one to Gage. Twisting the cap off, he took a long draw. It felt good on his sore throat—leftovers from yesterday. Finishing the bottle, he popped it back into the carrier and reached for a second.

“Hey, slow down,” Scotty cautioned. “And tell me, how was your date?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Scotty lifted an eyebrow. The man liked to share and expected everyone else to do the same. Women to him were just another notch on his belt, and Gage couldn’t wait for the day Scotty met a woman who’d give him more grief than Scotty had ever given any female.

Gage shrugged. “Good. Normal.” He didn’t want to talk about Anna. He didn’t want her to be mixed up in anything bad. She was a good kid—or that was his take on her. He liked how when she smiled her eyes would light up and her nose would crinkle. But he was having a hard time trying to figure out just what the hell was going on at her company. Who’d set that explosion—and why? And why trash Williams’ office? There was something rotten about that company—and Gage was afraid Anna was mixed up in it big time.

Scotty sipped his beer and asked, “What? You cranky from not getting any?”

“She’s not like that.”

Scotty shrugged. “She’s female—meaning trouble on two legs. You ought to know that, my man. Did you happen to bring up the fact that we’re looking for Nick’s widow, who we suspect was an author at her publishing house?”

“I asked. Natalie’s name didn’t ring any bells.”

Scotty frowned. “Spencer and I didn’t find anything either. It’s like Natalie never existed, which is damn suspicious. Either she’s pro at covering her tracks, or…”

“Or she never did exist—she was a cover for someone.” Gage leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Spencer have any luck getting his ex to see if there’s a file on her with NSA?”

Scotty gave a laugh. “That one? The ex wasn’t particularly cooperative. Evidently, Spence and his wife didn’t part on the best of terms. So what’s next? Kyle’s still MIA. We’re going to be AWOL soon. And we’ve got zip to show for our troubles.” He sank back in his chair. “This is not going well.”

Gage dropped his empty beer bottle into the carton. “That’s your trouble, Scotty. You’re not playing the long game. Something bad is going down at that publishing company—the place wouldn’t have been on fire and trashed otherwise.”

Scotty glanced at him. “You sure that was whole thing was staged?”

Gage nodded. “Not only staged, but I’d say whoever pulled it off was a pro. That helio waiting was just on time—the whole thing had the feel of a first-class op pulled off with to an exact timetable.”

Frowning, Scotty asked, “You hear anything on what caused the explosion?”

“No—not likely to, unless we can work some connections with local PD. Since we’re officially not supposed to be reachable, that’s going to be hard.”

Looking out over the balcony, Scotty said. “I hate to say it, but the damn thing sounds like a military op. What does a CEO of a publishing house have that’s so important that someone would be willing to kill for it?” He glanced at Gage. “You going to use Anna to get us more intel?”

Gage pressed his lips tight. Then he nodded. “I’m going to use whoever I need to—we’re going to find out who killed Nick and why, if I have to rip that publishing company apart myself.”

“In other news, there is still no word on the whereabouts of billionaire Coran Williams. An early adopter of new technology, Williams made his money in the defense industry before retiring to found a successful publishing house.

Tragedy struck the Williams family three years ago when his son struck another motorist while driving drunk, killing both of them, and again yesterday when a fire broke out in Williams’ D.C.-based publishing company.

Five people were hospitalized with injuries, but officials have not yet determined the cause of the fire, and no one has been able to reach Mr. Williams for comment.”

Anna sipped a glass of Chardonnay and stared at the television screen. She couldn’t believe that there was still no news on the whereabouts of Coran. How could he have simply disappeared like that? He was supposed to have gone golfing yesterday—how did anyone vanish from a golf course?

The police had been reluctant to allow her back into the offices this morning, but they had needed an accounting of what might be missing. As far as Anna could tell, nothing had been taken, but whoever had been there had sure made a mess of things. The company’s files were digitized with an offsite backup. With the exception of some of Coran’s notes, which he still insisted on writing out longhand in notebooks, the company could keep doing business—they just had to condense office space.

Anna always wondered why Coran was so resistant to using technology when he’d made his money on innovation.

She spent most of the day packing up her office—she was going to have to move downstairs. In just a couple of years, she had managed to accumulate more stuff than she knew what to do with. She liked to keep hard copy of all her photos—and then there were the books.

She relocated down to the sixth floor—accounting had to make room for her and half of marketing. Setting up in a corner space that needed better light, she put out her musical carousel, a relic from her mother’s early life, on the corner of her desk. Anna had rescued the carousel from her mom’s last move—it had been an anniversary gift from Anna’s father. Each time she looked at it, Anna was reminded of happier times. But those were all long, long ago.

She’d also downloaded the latest books from the marketing department onto her tablet. She liked to read the early copies to get cover ideas for the shoots, and she’d heard two new books had just come in yesterday morning.

Now, back in her apartment, she stared at the television, which was showing footage of the explosion and fire from yesterday. Anna rubbed absently at her cheek. It could have been her in the hospital—she’d heard from Linda, and she was due for release in a day or two, but everyone in the basement had had more than a close brush with death. The smoke in the lower parts of the building had been worse, and there’d been chemicals in the air.

She startled when her cat jumped up onto the kitchen counter. “Oh, no you don’t, Romeo!” She grabbed the fluffy gray cat and put him back down on the floor. After feeding him, she flicked off the news and curled up on the couch. She was looking forward to a quiet evening—and she had books to read.

Oddly, there were three new files on her tablet—she could have sworn she’d only put two on here this morning, but maybe someone had sent her an extra file yesterday. Coran often sent her files or simply installed files if he had a book he wasn’t sure about buying—she was happy to be an early reader, and she liked it that he sometimes trusted her judgment.

A couple of times, she’d even found new books sent to her by Linda. Those were always something the marketing department had passed on—and how Linda got the files, Anna wasn’t asking. But Linda knew Anna’s tastes and grabbed her odd books she thought Anna might like.

Anna opened the first file—
Lavender Lille
by N.T. Smalls. She didn’t recognize the author’s name, and a half a page later, she knew why. She went back over the text again to see if maybe she was missing something.

It is a cold November day that takes me to the haunted mansion, but I am not ready for the gunman waiting. Nor for the mysterious package that comes from Florida. I wait with my love, Nick, for word, but none comes. So I let myself wander.

Anna blinked. Either she was more tired than she knew, or this book was a mess. How could the marketing department even think of releasing this? Well, maybe it was one of the ones they’d passed on, but Anna was sure she’d read something else by Smalls. Or had she? She flicked forward a few pages.

Everything is wrong—danger everywhere. I shout but no one can hear me, they are all too deep in his pockets. The cat warns me of trouble, but I have to find Nick—or maybe all I will find will be his ghost, and I will be one, too, for he is forever gone to the green and red.

“Okay, maybe this is some trendy style I’m not up on,” Anna muttered. She closed the file and wondered if she should try another book or find a movie. Her phone rang, saving her from having to make a choice.

She hoped it wasn’t her mother again. Eloise had probably seen her on the news, and would no doubt tell her the camera had added ten pounds to her and probably talk about how bad her hair had looked on the news.

Reaching for her phone, Anna checked the caller ID and smiled. It was Gage. Feeling more like a teenager, she answered. “Hey, Gage. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” She hadn’t. Her dating record wasn’t exactly the best—but it was nice that he’d called.

His deep voice came over the line. “Thought I would call to see how you were doing.”

Smiling, Anna sat down again and tucked her feet underneath her. “No ill effects other than incredibly sore legs. That and I’m now in a closet of an office at work. Apparently, it’s going to take weeks to put everything back to what it was. Oh, that reminds me, we’re going to have to do another shoot with you. I have the images from the film in my camera, but everything else ended up smoke or water damaged.”

A short silence came over the line and then he said, “Another shoot?”

He didn’t sound happy, and she asked, “What, don’t tell me you’re already resigning as model material? That’d be a loss to the modeling world—besides, I’m getting ideas for using you as a mystery man on the cover of what seems to be a Gothic…well…a Gothic something.” She nudged her table with a finger. She’d have to try reading that book another time—sometime when she wasn’t exhausted. She snuggled lower in her seat.

“On a different note,” Gage said, “I had a wonderful time with you the other night. Is it too soon to call to see if you would like to go out again? I still want dinner with you.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. “I’d love to.”

“Great, we’re on for tonight.”

She gave a laugh. “You really don’t waste time. It’s sweet of you, but I am now planning a microwave dinner and an early night.”

“How about pizza and beer? I know a place over on P Street—does Neapolitan-style pie, Pizzeria Paradiso. Gobs of cheese, tomatoes and garlic—and if you’re up for it a salty fish roe that’ll make your day. And night. They do take-out.”

She grinned and wondered if she should say yes. From the corner of her eye, she saw Romeo jump up on the window sill. He sat still, only the tip of his tail moving, a low growl coming from his throat.

Gage kept talking about the pizza—and the beer—trying to talk her into dinner.

Getting up, Anna moved to the window. She pulled back a curtain. Evening was falling, leaving the sky a smeared, dusky purple with starts faint and flickering. The streetlights had not yet come on so gloom hung close to the buildings. This was a residential street—apartments and condos. She thought she saw someone standing across the street, half hidden by shadows. The dark form moved and vanished. Anna shivered. She let the curtain fall, but Romeo stayed alert, growling low in his throat.

Turning from the window, Anna wondered if she should say yes to Gage—company seemed a good idea right now.

“Gage, I’m sorry, but after that hot bath I had, I really was planning on a quiet evening.” She walked around her apartment, turning on lights. That shadow outside had spooked her—and, okay, the weird writing wasn’t helping with its talk about ghosts. Maybe
Lavender Lille
was an odd story, but it was effective at making you feel uneasy. “How about a rain check until tomorrow?”

His voice thickened with disappointment. “Well, if you’re sure—I’ll just have to force myself to eat alone.”

She grinned. “What a horrible fate. Thanks for calling, Gage.” She hung up and headed into the kitchen to see what she had. Romeo followed her and wound around her ankles, protesting that he was starving, too.

She opened another can of tuna cat food for him, considered canned soup for herself, and almost called Gage back. Pizza was starting to sound better and better. Her phone rang and she answered without checking the number—maybe she should give into his pleading.

“Hello?” Nothing came over the line. She said hello twice more, checked that her phone had a connection. It did. And she could hear someone breathing—nothing more. Uneasy, she hung up and hugged herself. Okay, that was weird. First a shadow outside her place, then a call. She shook her head. She was tired. That was all. And hungry.

Suddenly, she wanted company—she wanted people around her and bright lights and noise. She thought about calling Gage back, but really, she didn’t know him all that well, and she didn’t want to seem…well needy. Or a little unhinged.

Grabbing her coat and her keys, she headed for the door, calling out to Romeo, “Keep the lights on for me.”

She headed downstairs to the parking garage, which was locked and secured. She waved at the guard as she exited and turned out the avenue in front of her apartment. Eloise kept a house in Georgetown—a fine old Federal house, exquisitely furnished with antiques.

Anna had opted for a modern apartment with clean lines, cleaner furniture, and just her photos on the walls for decoration. She was glad of that now as she headed for her favorite haunt—The Queen Vic, only five blocks away.

She lived not far from the H Street Corridor—an area in transition, with some hip clubs, some old buildings, and some spots that needed renovation. But The Queen Vic would have noise, people, and best of all, solid comfort food. She lived close enough she could have walked, but she’d walked enough yesterday for a week.

Half a block later, her car sputtered and began to slow down. The steering dragged. She managed to pull the car over before the engine simply stopped. She was still on her own street, but it was the time of day when everyone was either home in front of the TV or out to dinner. No one seemed to be on the streets.

Getting out of the car, Anna glanced around. Well, better alone than with just one stranger. She lifted the hood to look underneath. While the engine was hot, she couldn’t tell what was wrong. She kept her ‘Ginny’ in great shape, and had just had a tune-up two weeks ago.

It was getting dark now, the lights coming on overhead, making it harder to see, and she didn’t have a flashlight. She turned her cellphone onto light. Squinting, she reached out to pick up a piece of rubber and looked at it. Looking around, she found more small pieces. Had a belt gone out?

Looking down at her car, she straightened and hoped this was a simple fix. She loved her old Mercedes wagon. It had been her father’s when he’d been in college, and he’d managed to keep it well-maintained. When he won his seat in Congress the car—Ginny, she’d been named—had been retired to the garage in favor of something bigger. Ginny had become Anna’s on her sixteenth birthday, and she’d tried to be just as good as her dad about keeping it in perfect condition.

She started to wonder if she should call someone—a tow truck maybe—when a man’s voice came out of the dark. “Need help?”

She spun, heart racing. A guy stood on the sidewalk, a hat pulled low—
one of those Hipster hats
, she thought. You saw enough of them in some neighborhoods in D.C., and she let out a breath. He seemed big—imposing—but he wasn’t holding a gun or a knife. He was well-dressed—the jeans looked new and the dark coat looked like it was wool.

“It stopped.” She waved a hand at her car. “And I don’t have a clue what to do about it.”