He was irritated and frustrated. “It didn’t work.”
“What do you mean, it didn’t work?” the woman beside him asked, equally frustrated. “I thought you said it was foolproof.”
“It should have been. I don’t know how they all survived.”
“Now what?” She raked her hands through her dark hair, holding it up off her neck while she considered the latest news. Letting her hair fall back down, she continued. “We have to find something to draw her out. A funeral was the perfect scenario.”
“Maybe we need to stop trying to chase her and make her come to us,” he suggested.
“How can we do that?”
He gave her a devious look, one she recognized well in the handsome face. “I think we need a conflict, one that will require a certain squad of Navy SEALs.”
“What good will that do us?” she asked.
He slid a hand around her waist and drew her closer. “I have a feeling Vanessa Johnson will be quick to get back in the field when her husband doesn’t come home.”
“I assume you have a plan?” she asked, tipping her head to look up at him.
“Don’t I always?”
* * *
Damian felt a sense of anticipation when he took a seat in the briefing room. There was a chance he was being sent out on his first mission. Then he saw the NCIS officer who had been at the rappelling tower the day before. In addition to the squad and him, there was also a woman wearing civilian clothes sitting beside Brent.
Larry Steinert waited for everyone to take their seats before he handed an envelope to Brent and sat across from him. “Those are the preliminary findings, but it was sabotage.”
“We already knew that,” Brent reminded him.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much in there you didn’t already know.”
“Do you have any suspects?” Quinn asked.
“Nothing so far. The window of time when the damage could have been done to the rappelling anchors is pretty wide. Because of the storms and the holidays, your squad was the first to use it in nine days.”
“Great,” Seth muttered.
“Any idea who might be holding a grudge against you or someone in your squad?”
“I can’t think of anyone who’s not behind bars, at least not anyone who knows who we are.” Brent turned to look at the rest of the group. “What about any of you? Jay, any chance your in-laws are coming after you again?”
Jay shook his head. “They’d go after Carina before they’d come after me. Besides, they had every chance to get at us at our wedding a couple of weeks ago.”
Damian looked at Jay, confused.
Jay gave him a careless shrug. “My wife’s father was part of the Chicago mob. We’ve had a few run-ins.”
“Seriously?” Damian asked, the expressions on everyone’s faces confirming the unlikely story as truth.
“I’ll check that out just to make sure, but I tend to agree with Jay,” Larry said. “What about the rest of you?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Okay. Well, if anything comes to mind, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be back at my office scouring surveillance videos.”
“Have fun with that,” Quinn said.
As soon as Larry left the room, Brent said, “In light of what happened yesterday, we’re changing our training schedule.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Amy?”
“I have the new schedules right here.” Amy stood and moved around the table, handing out the new schedules. “I had to bump some of your flight training up to tomorrow because of the dive schedule.”
“By the way, Damian, Amy is our intelligence officer.”
“And Brent’s wife,” Tristan offered.
Damian took a moment to process this latest tidbit of information. He looked at Brent. “So you’re married to our intelligence officer, Seth’s wife is CIA, and Jay’s wife grew up in the mob.”
“That’s right,” Seth answered for all of them.
“You guys are married too, right?” Damian asked Quinn and Tristan.
“That’s right.”
“What do your wives do? Work for the FBI?”
“Actually, my wife, Riley, trains police departments in first-responder scenarios,” Tristan said. “Quinn’s wife is just an artist.”
“I’d like to see you say that to Taylor when she’s in the room,” Quinn countered, humor in his voice.
“No, that’s okay.” Tristan stood. “I value my life.”
“Why don’t you go value your life out on the shooting range?” Amy suggested.
“Great idea,” Tristan agreed.
* * *
Paige walked through the town house slowly, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, waiting for any sign of whether she could feel safe here. She liked how quiet it was and the way this particular unit was located on the end of the building.
From what she could tell, all of the units in this building were one-bedroom, which meant she wouldn’t likely hear much in the way of children playing. Not that she minded kids. She just didn’t want to wake up to one screaming at this stage in her life.
She looked out the kitchen window to see the parking lot and grassy area along the front walk, a few patches of snow still evident in the shade. A large oak was visible to the left, and she imagined it would provide shade during the summer months.
Beyond the parking lot, she could see more units, and in the distance, she could make out the top of the pool house. She liked knowing she would have such easy access to the water. Besides the pool, she could walk to the bay. If she wanted to visit the beach, she could drive there in less than fifteen minutes. She would also have the benefit of easy access to the freeway.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself living here alone. It was easy to visualize during the day, but after dark was another matter. Determined to face her fears, she let her nightmares play through her mind. The voices rising in anger, the shouts and threats, the gunshots.
Jennifer had always talked about how well Paige related to their patients in the counseling center, but Paige had never been able to tell her it was because she knew how they felt. It might not have been her family who had lost someone that day when she’d been only fifteen years old, but she knew what it was like to hurt, and she knew what it was like to lose.
Her sister’s ex-boyfriend wielding a knife, his mother holding a gun, the sound of gunshots. All of those images flashed through her mind until they merged into one: the coroner pronouncing a young boy dead.
Paige thought about how she had overreacted with Damian in the restaurant a few days earlier. She still felt bad about it, but she didn’t know how to explain to him the effect guns had on her. Even throughout her training with the government, first as an intern with the FBI and then as a CIA employee, she had always managed to avoid handgun training.
Logically, she knew that just because someone carried a gun, it didn’t mean they intended to use it to hurt someone. She also knew that logic didn’t always triumph over emotions.
A knock sounded on the door, and Paige was pleased she didn’t jump. She turned to see the apartment manager push his way inside. “Well, what do you think?”
Paige took another look around and made her decision. “I’ll take it.”
* * *
Damian checked over his diving gear, his mind as much on Paige as it was on the task before him. He still couldn’t figure out exactly why she had blown him off at the restaurant when they’d first met, but for some reason, he couldn’t get the incident out of his mind. One minute they were getting along great, and the next, it was as if someone had flipped a switch, and she acted like she couldn’t put distance between them fast enough.
When they’d returned to their table, she had been friendly to everyone, even if she had been a little more reserved than when she’d first arrived. She had even been kind enough to not make an issue out of turning him down. Still, it didn’t make sense.
Paige had admitted she wasn’t dating anyone, and he could have sworn he had detected some interest. So why had she refused to go out with him? He hadn’t even been able to find an opportunity to ask for her number.
Jay stepped up beside him and interrupted his thoughts. “Is your gear ready to load?”
“Yeah.” Damian lifted his diving apparatus and carried it to the truck that would transport them to the dock.
“I can’t believe NCIS hasn’t found anything yet,” Seth said. “It’s been almost a week.”
“I can’t believe Damian hasn’t asked Paige out yet,” Quinn countered.
“He might need our help,” Tristan drawled.
Damian looked over his shoulder. “I don’t need any help getting a date.”
“Prove it,” Jay said. “We’re having a little get-together at Seth’s place tonight. Why don’t you call Paige and see if she wants to join us.”
“I didn’t ask for her number.”
Quinn looked over at Tristan. “Yep. He definitely needs our help.”
“Maybe Paige isn’t my type.”
“Yeah right. Paige is every guy’s type,” Tristan said. When he caught the inquisitive looks his teammates sent his way, he amended his comment. “I mean, she’s every single guy’s type.”
“Maybe Damian has his eye on someone else,” Seth said.
“From what I’ve seen, he hasn’t even noticed anyone else since he met Paige. That civilian down the hall stopped by to chat yesterday, and Damian barely gave her the time of day.”
“Are you talking about the redhead with the Southern accent?” Quinn asked.
“That’s the one,” Jay said. “She was even hinting about whether we’d be around this weekend. I’m telling you, Damian may have missed a golden opportunity there too.”
“Do you always talk about people when they’re in the room?” Damian asked.
“Yep,” Tristan said unapologetically. “We aren’t the behind-the-back types.”
“Any chance you’ll listen to me when I tell you to butt out of my personal life?”
“Not really.”
“Great,” Damian muttered.
“We’re all married,” Tristan said. “You’re our new source of entertainment.”
“Lucky me.”
“And don’t even think about trying to skip out on dinner tonight,” Seth added. “They’ll just hunt you down and make your life miserable.”
Brent walked in and ended the conversation. “Come on. Get the rest of the gear loaded. It’s time to go.”
Damian helped Seth secure the rest of their gear and climbed into the truck. By the time they reached the dock, he decided it was a perfect day for a dive. Even though he wasn’t looking forward to the freezing temperature, at least once they were underwater, his teammates would lose their ability to talk for a while.