It hurt Nuala’s heart to see Boone in such misery. And it killed her to know that he was in such shape because the woman he loved—which wasn’t her—lay in a hospital mysteriously failing. Of course, that made her feel worse because she shouldn’t begrudge him. He had no idea how she felt. She’d never given him any indication that he held the moon and stars in her world. Even if she had, he would’ve rejected her. Nuala King wasn’t the type of girl guys fell in love with.
Now, Annie. . .and Téya . . .and Keeley. . .yeah. Guys tripped over themselves trying to get a date with them. But Noodle? The nickname alone told her what they thought of her.
But Boone. Like Rock of Gibraltar. Impenetrable. Solid. That he had enough muscle to make up two humans meant little to her.
Oh, who was she kidding? He was as physically attractive as he was kind. As bulked up as he was compassionate. Which is why it hurt all the more to see him in pain like this.
She poured a cup of coffee, added cream—oops. Not too much. Nuala carried it over to the workstations where Boone sat in a chair, staring at the computer. Which she knew from the blank look on his face either wasn’t on or he wasn’t paying attention. “Here,” she said softly as she set the mug before him.
Boone glanced down at it but seemed as if he didn’t see it. Then shifted. “Did I ask for that?”
Heat crept into her cheeks, but not enough—she hoped—to make the blush evident. “No, you looked like you needed it.”
Boone’s gray eyes came to hers, a shade of disbelief coloring them. “Thanks, Noodle.”
Would he call her anything else but that stupid name? Something with respect. Something with meaning. But she had no meaning to him, other than being a member of Zulu. And a top sniper.
They had that in common. And she loved to talk shop with him. Really, she’d talk about anything with him. Am I pathetic?
“Wow, I sure would love someone to bring me coffee without having to ask,” Téya murmured loudly from the dais, where she sat studying the wall. “Must be nice, Boone.”
Again, his mind seemed jogged back to the present. “Maybe you should try being nice to someone,” he said, almost not missing a beat. But then he glanced at Nuala and lifted the cup and nodded. “Thanks.”
She smiled.
“You think you’re nice to Nuala?”
Oh no. This wouldn’t end well. Nuala knew where this was going. And suddenly knew what Téya was up to. She swept across the room and stood over her friend, glaring deliberately at her, warning her to stop.
Téya, unrepentant as always, just shrugged. “I’m just saying—he should be more grateful.”
Okay, time to clear out before this got really embarrassing. Nuala headed for the bunk room. Maybe she’d journal. Work on a scene in her space opera. Pluck out her fingernails. Anything less painful than being humiliated by Téya, who had somehow figured out Nuala’s feelings for Boone.
Hushed, harsh whispers skated out of the corner bunk room, slowing Nuala. Holding the swirl necklace her mother had given her as a teen, she stood outside the room she shared with Téya, listening.
The whispers continued, stiff and hurried. The Lorings were in there, their children visible on the lower bunk and napping. How’d they get older children like that to nap during the daytime? When Nuala had been that age, she wanted to be with the adults. Didn’t want to miss anything.
“No. . .you don’t. . .”
The broken pieces didn’t make sense. What was going on? They sounded pretty upset. With each other? Or with the team?
“. . .they’ll know.”
“. . .no choice.”
“. . .keep doing this. . .what if. . .”
“. . .figure it out.”
Nuala edged closer, putting her stealth sniper skills to use, but even with her straining to hear, she couldn’t make out the conversation. What she wouldn’t do for her long-range microphone. Or a well-placed listening device.
Footsteps came toward her from their room.
Hurrying into her room, Nuala forced her heart to slow. Bring her breathing under control.
“Hey.”
Nuala pivoted, surprised to find Annie on the upper bunk. “Oh. I didn’t know you were there.”
Annie wrinkled a brow. “You okay?”
“Sure. Yeah.” She shrugged.
“You’re a bad liar.”
Should she tell Annie? Téya hadn’t believed her. Why would Annie?
Because Annie had a stronger balance in terms of weighing pros and cons. She didn’t go on gut reaction alone the way Téya often did.
Nuala wanted affirmation that she was as vital to the team as the others. That her assessments were just as valid. She had to make judgment calls in the field with a sniper rifle pressed to her shoulder. They trusted her to do that. Why not listen to her now? “I just—”
“Oh, hey. Glad you are in here,” Sharlene Loring said as she stepped into the room, freezing Nuala’s words in her mouth.
Annie sat up. “Need something?”
“Carl and I were talking.”
Arguing was more like it.
“It’s probably nothing,” came Carl’s voice from the hall.
Annie and Sharlene moved out there. In order to keep up with the conversation, Nuala had to follow them.
The Lorings wrapped their arms around each other. Carl pressed a kiss to Sharlene’s temple. And though Nuala wasn’t sure, she thought she saw a grimace. A split-second tweak of Sharlene’s lips. But their arms were around each other.
“We both think that there is a connection between Giles Stoffel and Titus Batsakis that cannot be overlooked,” Carl said firmly.
“We pretty much figured that out,” came Trace’s deep, firm voice as they all gathered by the computer stations. “Stoffel’s sister married Titus Batsakis.”
“That’s not illegal,” Téya mumbled. When everyone looked at her, Téya shrugged. “What? It’s not!”
“Not to disappoint you,” Trace said, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the tables, “but Annie and I got into the bank. Houston went through their systems and found nothing out of the ordinary.”
“So, you think they’re innocent?” Sharlene said, her voice pitching.
“No way,” Annie said. “They kidnapped me. We know they’re dirty, but we have no way to prove it.”
“We might,” Carl said, looking as his wife in a sickeningly adoring fashion. “We believe they keep their secrets on their yacht.”
Trace straightened. “Yacht?”
“Aegean Mercy,” Sharlene said. “Named after—”
“Mercy Chandler,” Annie put in. “Stoffel’s wife.”