Ready for Anything, Anywhere! Read online

  The woman disappeared into the milling customers, emerging on the other side near two men who seemed familiar …

  Nikki shook her hands loose trying to relax for a memory to shimmer free. The shorter man wore a backward baseball cap and sports jersey. The other man loomed taller and burly in a plaid shirt.

  The image gelled in her brain. Both men had met up with Carson that night out in the parking lot. Ball-cap dude, she didn’t know. But the man in the plaid shirt was Bo Rokowsky’s brother-in-law. What was the guy’s name? Vic something-or-another.

  A tingling started up her spine, a shift in the air, an awareness that Carson had arrived even though she hadn’t seen him yet and no, no, no she didn’t want that kind of surreal connection.

  Maybe the feeling was—

  There he was. Carson. Tall, slim and golden blond, his tan deep from a lifetime outside. She wished she could remember his tan line, but there had been covers by that point.

  Whoops. Dangerous territory for her thoughts, especially in public. She glanced back up to his lean face, features angular and tense, phone pressed to his ear while he searched the crowd for …

  Her.

  Dimples creased—because of her. He nodded his hello from across the room as he continued to speak into his phone and make his way toward her. The tingle increased to an allover body flush. Just a casual get-together?

  She wasn’t fooling anybody, most especially herself.

  Only a fool would risk going out with this woman, but Carson had learned long ago, the word fit for him every time he came near Nikki.

  Except he wouldn’t sacrifice common sense and safety even though the whole meal had tempted him to toss both out the back hatch. At least they’d accomplished something at lunch, compiling a joint list of people they remembered Owens hanging out with, hoping they would recall something overlooked initially.

  He’d insisted on following her home even though, yeah, she’d driven over on her own. Maybe he simply wanted their time together to last longer and it really wasn’t that far out of his way. Lunch with her had been so natural and easy, too natural. In the past there had been the boundary of her crush, something that most definitely put him in an older man role. Now they met on more equal footing, even though she wore a Minnie Mouse watch that for some reason he found endearing as hell.

  Slowing outside the Price home, he pulled up on the curb behind her car, a perfect reminder of those slashed tires. No matter how tough and toned she appeared, she was still vulnerable to creeps who drugged drinks and tore her clothes.

  The urge to protect pumped through his veins, thrummed in his ears, damn near blinding him. He could tell himself all day long to ease off the protector role because Nikki was strong, but in practice, she meant too much to him for him to be anywhere but by her side.

  He blinked his vision clear and stepped from his truck just as she slid from hers, one slim leg at a time. Jeans never looked so good slung low on her slim hips, her jacket open to reveal a fuzzy sweater, bottom button undone to reveal a hint of skin.

  Carson met her at her open truck door. “I’m sorry I was late for our lunch.”

  “You weren’t late.” She gripped the open door, Minnie Mouse waving from her wrist. “I was early, and I know things are insane at the squadron right now.”

  “Well, I wish I could have picked you up. Next time … ”

  Wind rustled pine needles from the trees overhead and lifted her hair while she chewed her lip and finally released the kissable fullness, slowly. “Next time.”

  There would be a next time.

  Yes.

  He covered her hand with his on the open door. “No new memories today?”

  “Spotty stuff, mostly of when you and I talked.” She scuffed her shoe through the dead grass, drawing his attention to her jean-clad legs—as if he needed an excuse. “I, uh, watched you walk away and meet up with two other guys.”

  Vic Jansen and Gary Owens’s sponsor, on their way to a support meeting for families of addicts, not just alcoholics, but a catchall group. He couldn’t tell her that, though, without breaking confidence. “Do you remember anything else?”

  “Not really. It never works when I want it too much.” Her gray eyes clouded, seeming wider when she didn’t blink, just studied him until he wondered if they were still discussing lost hours a week ago.

  “Then let’s stop forcing the issue.” He circled a finger along Minnie, then around to Nikki’s wrist. “You said relaxing helps, so just let things happen.”

  Although a relaxed Nikki might be more temptation than he could handle.

  “Okay, I have a question that’s really been plaguing me.” Her eyebrows pinched together with serious intensity that set him on edge.

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  She tipped her head to the side, her hair teasing along his wrist. “Why haven’t you named your boat yet?”

  Tension rode out along his laugh. Relax. Right. Linking his fingers with hers, he slid their hands off the door into a true clasp rather than the sort-of-resting-here deal.

  Tugging her forward, he reached past to close her door. “Naming a boat is like naming a new aviator.”

  “What do you mean?” She kept her hand in his.

  Encouraging.

  Arousing.

  And so damn right he didn’t let go.

  “Well, for example, Lieutenant Avery is bucking for a call sign to replace Bambi, but we’ve got to wait for the watershed event.”

  “Like your flaming Dr Pepper moment when you scorched your mustache in a bar.”

  Now there was a splash of reality. “Exactly. A watershed event that sums up a person.”

  As if sensing his darkening mood, she stepped away even if she didn’t release his hand. “I imagine you need to get back to the squadron.”

  “I’ve got another minute.” He should have returned a half hour ago to tackle rewrites on performance reports and promotion recommendations, review and sign check-ride forms, all before the Wing Staff meeting at fifteen hundred.

  He wasn’t sure what he was doing standing here with Nikki. Even if he could see his way clear to risking a more serious relationship, he was scared spitless of marriage, and he couldn’t even wrap his head around the whole father-kid deal. He could almost hear Vic Jansen laughing at him again since he kept gravitating right back to commitment thoughts.

  One day at a time.

  “Would you like to go boating again this weekend? Your dad will be home to look after your mom.” And holy hell, he would somehow have to explain to J. T. Price why he was seeing the man’s daughter when the guy expressly didn’t want flyboys for his baby girl. No doubt, Ivy League, officer fly-boys would fall even lower down the list for the practical values of the crusty chief master sergeant.

  Carson stroked his missing mustache. He would just have to get the guy alone and ease the news into the conversation. They had a mutual respect for each other from shared crew experiences and POW hell.

  “Boating?” Nikki asked, bringing him back to the moment.

  Before he worried about talking to J.T., Nikki needed to agree.

  “My plate will be clearer. We could moor up in a cove for lunch, maybe go ashore and backpack around for the day.”

  Her hand stilled, frozen like her blanked face. “Go boating to relax and take my mind off of Owens and my pathetic employment situation?”

  “To spend time together. If that’s okay.”

  Slack jawed for a painfully long second, she blinked fast. “Yeah, I think it is. As a matter of fact I’m sure it is.” Her grin widened. “Although this time it’s my turn to bring the food.”

  He liked the idea of her feeding him, him feeding her back, on the bow of his boat in the middle of the summer in a secluded bay where they could soak up the sun and each other ….

  Time to pull his mind off that fantasy, awesome though it was. And what was he doing having summer thoughts, months away? What had happened to taking things with Nikki one day at a time?


  The rumble of an engine drew closer. Hair rose on the back of his neck. The neighborhood seemed sleepy and safe, but less than two years ago, Nikki’s brother had a run-in with the law that brought threats from drug runners … a drive-by wreck and later a brick through the window.

  He gripped Nikki’s elbow. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  And check the security system for the umpteenth time.

  The approaching vehicle slowed, a nondescript sedan. Carson hustled her faster up the walk. Once he got her inside, then he would deal with any problem, if there was one. The car stopped.

  Agent Reis was behind the wheel.

  What was he doing here? He couldn’t be about to arrest her. No, no, and hell no.

  The primal drive to protect—already on high alert—seared his nerves. He suppressed the urge to do more than tuck her away in the house. He burned to toss her in his truck and take her as far away as possible from any and every threat. God knew he had the money.

  Nikki stepped around him and started down the walkway, toward Reis, so strong and resolute it damn near tore him up inside. She had a calm bravery under stress that would serve her well in combat.

  He just prayed she wasn’t about to enter the zone.

  Reis tightened his tie, his coat flapping behind him as he charged up the curb. Sunglasses masked his expression, not that the man gave much away with full face showing. He extended a hand. “Major. Ms. Price. Glad I caught up with you so I can deliver some good news in person.”

  “Good news?” Carson pulled up behind Nikki, a palm to her back to brace her.

  “Autopsy report finally came in, and Owens was definitely struck, and by a right-handed person. Since you’re a lefty, that’s good news for you. Even as fit as you are, it’s unlikely you could have exerted such force with your right. While we haven’t completely ruled anyone out, it’s safe to say we’re shifting our focus elsewhere for now. Although why that someone would want his belt … “ He shrugged.

  Nikki reached out to Carson, trembling a hint, her eyes still glued to Reis as he detailed more intricacies about the autopsy and height angles at the site of impact. Carson clasped her hand, a similar relief rocking him slam down to his feet. No one should have to carry the burden of having taken another life, even in self-defense.

  Although since a large percentage of the world was right-handed, they hadn’t narrowed the search much.

  “I’ve already placed a call to your principal that you’ve been crossed off our suspect list. Given his sigh of relief, I imagine there’s already a message waiting for you on your voice mail.”

  “Reis, I have to confess I’m not overly impressed with the protective drive-bys around here. A broken balcony, slashed tires, and all while she’s being watched. Once word leaks that the investigation’s no longer focused on Nikki, this person’s going to get deadly serious in eliminating her before she remembers.”

  “I understand your concern, but we can’t put someone in protective custody indefinitely.” He chomped harder, faster on his gum. “But I’ve got connections downtown. I’ll put some pressure on local police.”

  A fair offer, even if nothing short of a closed case seemed like enough now. “Thank you. And thanks for making the personal trip out.”

  “No problem. I need to ask her brother and mother some questions anyway, but I see now that their cars are gone. I should have called first.”

  Nikki’s hand twitched clasped in his, but she stayed silent.

  “Have a nice afternoon, Major.” Reis nodded. “Ms. Price.”

  Agent Reis slid into his nondescript blue sedan and pulled away from the curb. Once Reis’s license plate disappeared around the corner, Carson hauled Nikki into his arms. “About time he figured out you couldn’t have done something like that.”

  She trembled in his arms. “How could you be so sure?”

  “I just knew, damn it.” His arms convulsed tighter around her. “Although now there’s not a chance you’re going anywhere alone.”

  Nikki eased her head back to look up at him, not too far since she was tall, a perfect fit. “I’ll worry about right-handed threats later. Right now, I’m so relieved at this sliver of hope.”

  “Fair enough. But I’m going to come back after work so we can all discuss more serious security.”

  Carson palmed the small of her back on the way up the side steps leading to the garage apartment. He scanned the single room efficiency, an open space with a futon, kitchenette and cubicle bathroom. Only one entrance in and out, with an alarm on the door as safe as she could be without him parking his butt with her 24/7, something she wouldn’t allow anyway.

  Although damn, what he wouldn’t give for the pleasure of simply watching her sleep.

  She slumped against the door frame. “Ohmigod, I knew I was stressed, but didn’t even begin to know how much until now.”

  “You have reason to celebrate.”

  “Are you offering to celebrate with me?” Her loaded question broadsided him.

  They were standing on the threshold of more than her apartment.

  He cupped her face, fingers threading back into her loose hair. “What do you think?”

  And somehow he was kissing her. He should pull away and make sure she wanted—Her lips parted under his and yeah. Just yeah. He tasted her and a hint of the barbecue they’d had for lunch.

  Her hands skimmed along his back and up to loop around his neck. “No mustache,” she murmured against his mouth. “Feels different.”

  “It’s going to be different this time, too.” His hands slid lower to cup her amazing bottom he’d admired as she climbed the mast. Hell, to be honest, he’d been checking her out since she’d strutted past him in shorts while subbing for a sick member of the squadron volleyball team.

  All the reasons he should stay away faded under the onslaught of driving need to claim her as his, finally, totally, and damn it, memorize every second of the feel of her toned body under his hands because he wouldn’t be idiot enough to treat her so recklessly again.

  “Carson,” Nikki whispered against his mouth, tugging him back to the present. “Either that’s a phone ringing in your pocket or you’re really happy to see me.”

  “Both.” He dropped another quick kiss before pulling back. He fished out his cell phone, looked at the LCD panel and winced. “The squadron. I’ve got to take it.” He flipped open his phone. “Hunt.”

  “Captain Seabrook. All hell’s breaking loose here, sir. We need you back ASAP. There’s been a bombing in the barracks overseas, the barracks housing our guys.”

  His gut burned raw with each forced even breath. He needed a status report. “SITREP?”

  “One confirmed dead, more expected, but it’s chaos there and here.”

  His gaze snapped straight to Nikki and her furrowing brow as she somehow picked up on his tension even though he’d kept his face neutral. Her father was over there along with so many of their friends, and there wasn’t a thing he could do except be the bearer of the horrific details. With the taste of Nikki still on his lips, he was torn with the need to keep her close in case the news involved her.

  But duty didn’t give him that option.

  “Hold down the fort. I’m on my way.”

  And he prayed when he came back to the Price home that it wouldn’t be for an official notification visit.

  Chapter 9

  Six hours later, the phone rang on her mom’s kitchen wall.

  Slamming her memory journal shut, Nikki launched from her chair at the table to snatch up the cordless receiver and kicked herself for not placing it beside her, but she wasn’t thinking clearly right now. Carson had told her there was a bombing overseas and to keep her pregnant mother away from the television until he could get details.

  Please, God, let her father be all right.

  And if her father wasn’t okay, let her be strong enough when the time came to tell her mom. At least her mother was upstairs resting after supper, so Nikki would have
time to pull herself together if the worst.

  “Carson?” she gasped into the mouthpiece, her fingers numbing from her death grip. Death? Awful word choice. The smell of leftover spaghetti hanging in the air made her nauseous. “Is everything okay?”

  Silence answered. A delay for a telemarketer recording? She glanced at the caller ID, which read “unknown” as she’d seen before when Carson used his cell.

  She put the receiver to her ear again. “Carson? Is that you?”

  Was the news so bad he was searching for the right words? But no. He was never that shaken. If anything, he became more focused in a crisis. She admired that about him, along with so many other traits she’d never noticed before, too caught up in her hormonal crush and a thousand other things that seemed frivolous now in light of how transient life could be.

  Huffing breaths increased on the airwaves, sending a creepy chill down her spine. An obscene phone call? Or something far more sinister and dangerous?

  Footsteps sounded from the living room, coming closer, loping—her brother.

  “Hang up,” Chris hissed, the television echoing Jamie’s Disney flick from the other room.

  “What?”

  He yanked the phone from her and barked into the receiver, “The line’s tapped, you bastard, so quit calling.”

  Chris nailed the off button and tossed the phone onto Jamie’s empty high chair.

  What was going on and why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell her? “The phone’s tapped?”

  “We’ve been getting calls like that for two days, so Mom phoned that Agent Reis guy. Mom didn’t want to scare you and since you stayed up in the garage apartment most of the time, you were never here when one came in.”

  Could that have been why Reis wanted to speak to her family?

  And ohmigod, none of this even mattered if something had happened to her father.

  Call, call, call. She touched the phone, willing it to ring with Carson on the other end. Her hand slid back to her side as she turned to her brother. “Were you going to tell me about the breather and speaking with Agent Reis?”