Bullseye: Seal. Carol Ericson
exact words, except the last message I received in the bar when you were in the restroom.” She pulled a crumpled napkin from her purse and flattened in out on the table in front of him.
“Clever. He must’ve been the one who bought us the drinks.”
She dropped the phone on top of the cocktail napkin. “My father was a drug dealer. I don’t know anything about weapons.”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m not sure you want to know the truth.”
“Bring it.”
“Your father, and the Los Santos cartel, had started dealing with terrorists out of Afghanistan. In exchange for the product from their poppy fields, he was going to supply them with weapons...and passage into the US.”
Now she did feel sick.
She bent forward, leaning her forehead against the sticky table, her hair falling around her face. “I can’t believe he’d do something like that.”
And then she remembered what he’d done to her and she could believe it.
“Gina? Are you all right?”
Balancing her chin on the table, she peered at him through the curtain of her hair. “Not really. I thought this was all behind me.”
“Can you think of any reason why your father’s associates would be contacting you?”
“Is that who you think it is?” She blew the hair out of her face, as she raised her head.
“That’s a good possibility.”
“Could it be the Feds?” She splayed her hands on the table, wiggling her fingers. “Maybe they’re trying to trap me?”
“I think I would’ve been told, since essentially I’m reporting to the Feds.”
“The FBI? DEA? You’re working with them?”
“What did you say before?” He rubbed his knuckles across the stubble on his jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“But what you’re telling me is that if it was some federal agency trying to trap me, they wouldn’t have sent you out here to protect me from that agency.”
“Exactly.” He placed his hands over her restless fingers. “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. Can you try not to go off on me? I’m just asking.”
Her gaze shifted to his broad hands covering hers. God, his touch felt good—warm, secure. She nodded. “I won’t go off on you.”
“Is there any reason why these people would think you know something about your father’s business? Did he give you any information? Leave anything to you?”
“There wasn’t much left.” She slipped her hands from beneath his. Unless you counted the bank account on Isla Perdida. The same type of account her father had set up for her mother when they split, the one Mom had been using ever since to fund her lifestyle. Blood money.
“They seized all his assets...and mine.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He drummed his fingers against his glass. “They must think you know something. They wouldn’t contact you, otherwise.”
“They’re sadly mistaken. Do you think I’m in danger from them?”
“You could be.” Sounding casual, Josh lifted his shoulders, but they were stiff, indicating anything but casual.
“Great.” She pushed away the mug of beer. “What was your original assignment? Get close to the grieving widow? Why the pretended interest in the property? Why not just approach me?”
His gaze floated over her left shoulder and she wondered if he’d heard her. Then his attention snapped back to her face. “I thought it might be better to get to know you in a nonthreatening way first. I did shock you with all these revelations, didn’t I?”
“Partly because I thought you were a mild-mannered programmer.” Although there’d been nothing to suggest Josh Edwards/Elliott was mild mannered in any way, shape or form—her gaze skimmed over the powerful muscles on display beneath his shirt—especially form.
“My instructions were to get close to you.” He cleared his throat. “This is a new type of assignment for me, so I wasn’t sure about the best approach.”
His lips twisted into a half smile, and her gaze lingered on his strong jaw imagining for a second what it would feel like to get close to Josh Elliott. Then she flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Honesty?”
“What?” The hand holding his beer mug jerked, and the amber liquid sloshed into small waves.
“I said you could’ve tried honesty in approaching me.”
He curled his hands around the heavy, beveled glass and stared into its depths. “You really would’ve been open to a navy SEAL on a secret assignment appearing on your doorstep?”
“It’s not like you were personally responsible for the deaths of my father and husband.” She rolled her shoulders. “Besides, I accepted you when you did tell me the truth, didn’t I? I mean, we’re sitting here sharing a beer.”
He held up one finger. “Ah, that’s because I saved you in the alley, and you were still shaken up. I’m not sure you would’ve been so...accepting otherwise.”
She screwed up her mouth and didn’t bother refuting him. The man in the alley had shaken her up and she hadn’t appreciated Josh’s intervention at the time. Now that she knew Ricky really was dead, she was grateful for his protection. This might be a new type of assignment for him, but he’d caught on quickly.
Digging her elbow into the table, she buried her chin in one palm. “How exactly did the Navy SEALs fit into the raid on my father’s place?”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“Okay, top secret.” She tapped her fingertips against her cheekbone. “What now?”
“Keep your eyes and ears open, and be careful. I’ll be here to look out for you until we can figure out why your father’s associates are trying to contact you.”
“If they tell me anything, I’ll be sure to pass it along to you.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Tell you anything? Why and how would they have the opportunity to tell you anything?”
As she studied his glittering eyes, a chill touched her spine. In that instant she had an odd sense that she was staring into Ricky’s eyes again. Josh’s expression contained that same single-minded ferocity that Ricky had, but surely, Josh had a passion for good and justice, not evil and greed.
“I mean, if they text me again or, God forbid, call me since they seem to have my cell phone number.”
Josh leveled a finger at her. “You’re not going to run off and meet anyone again, are you?”
“No. I just thought...” She glanced down and studied her fingernails as she trailed off.
“Ricky’s dead, Gina.”
“I know.” A single tear puddled in her right eye. Ricky had died a long time ago.
Josh slouched back in his chair and downed the rest of his beer. “Are you ready?”
She tapped her phone to wake it up, and the numbers of the clock glowed in the dark bar. “My mom’s going to think I had one hot date.”
“If you want her to think that, you need to take a couple of deep breaths. Your face looks—” he touched a finger to her cheek “—tight.”
His fingertip seemed to scorch her, to brand her. She sucked in a breath, and then shook her head. He was right. The events