LITMIR.BIZ

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he’d want to kiss Ro like he’d dreamed of since he’d first laid eyes on her.

      He’d noticed her the day he’d met her, the weekend before she reported to the wing. She’d been wearing tight jeans that revealed just how curvy her ass was under her khaki uniform. She’d been spitting mad that his friend Max’s dog had chased her mother’s cat up a tree. Her anger had boiled over when she realized he was perfectly certain he could rescue her mother’s cat from the sixty-foot fir tree. When he climbed back down the trunk with the fuzzy creature under his arm it had only ticked her off more.

      He suppressed a grin at the memory.

      They exited the plush corridor into the utilitarian part of the hangar, above the main aircraft parking area. Ro turned to face him again and he fell in step with her.

      “Let’s go outside. We can take my truck to the beach.”

      “I have to get my purse.”

      “Do you have your identification on you?”

      “Yes, of course I have my ID,” she snapped.

      “Then you don’t need anything else. Not for now. Let’s keep walking and get out of here.”

      “Aye-aye, sir.” Sarcasm tinged her words and Miles smiled. He knew he sounded like a jerk to a softie like Roanna. It was clear to him that she was already bored at the wing after being there for not even half of her assigned tour length. Like him, she’d been out in the fleet fighting the war until circumstances brought her home. Like him, she wasn’t a native of Whidbey Island or Washington State. Unlike him, she showed no indication that the beauty and mystery of the Pacific Northwest had seduced her.

      You haven’t seduced her, either.

      He wanted her, all right. From the moment he’d watched her get her back up about her mother’s precious cat that was stupid enough to climb so far up a tree that it needed rescuing. A laugh escaped him as he remembered Ro’s face after he’d handed the bundle of white fur back to her mother.

      “What’s so funny?” Ro’s mouth was set in a grim line. Her tension had been palpable in the commodore’s office and he’d wanted to squeeze her hand. Of course that would not only have been unprofessional, it might very well have earned him a smack to the head.

      “Tell you in a sec.” He unlocked the truck.

      They slid into his truck in silence. Only when they cleared the main gate did he speak.

      “I was remembering the expression on your face when I climbed up and got Henry out of the tree for your mother.”

      “It’s Henry the Eighth. You have to use his entire name.” She was sitting up straight, tense as a scared cat herself. But he saw the muscle twitching at the corner of her lip.

      “You were so pissed off.”

      “I was stressed. My mother is not the easiest person to please, and her cat is everything to her.” Ro relented and smiled. “I realize now how much I owe you. I had no idea you were an amputee. I get that, for a weapons expert like you, scaling a tree is no big deal. But you did it with one leg. For my mother’s stubborn cat.”

      “Two. I have two legs, Ro, as long as I’m wearing my prosthetic.”

      “I’m trying to give you a compliment here, Miles. Let me.”

      He glanced at her and not for the first time was blindsided by her huge eyes. Her chestnut-brown hair floated around her face in a pretty cloud of spikes and curls. Her gaze, a sexy blue laser, conveyed so much more than her words ever had—at least to him.

      He put his gaze firmly back on the road.

      “If we need to work together on this, we need to agree to have each other’s back.”

      “That’s a given, Miles. But it’s not about us—it’s about seeing that Petty Officer Perez is treated with respect and dignity.”

      “Come on, Roanna. You’re naval intelligence. Do you really believe everything is as it looks?”

      “I saw you watching the commodore,” she said, and he felt her shrug next to him. “He’s not the best I’ve ever worked for, either, but certainly not the worst. Either way, he’s our boss. We have orders.”

      “To get to the truth. The truth may not be what he wants to hear.” He needed to keep his misgivings to himself; he sounded paranoid. The collateral damage of a life spent expecting an explosion at every turn.

      She sighed as if she’d read his mind.

      “This isn’t a Hollywood movie, Miles.”

      “No, it’s not, Roanna. It’s for real—and we need to be on the same page. For Petty Officer Perez, for his family and for each other.”

      * * *

      ROANNA HELD ON to the handle above the passenger’s side window as Miles drove them to the area known as West Beach. They’d learned that AMS Perez’s body had been discovered by a dog walker early that morning.

      “Good thing they found him while the tide was still out.”

      “You’re not kidding. An hour or two later and he would’ve been shark bait.” Miles was a guy all the way.

      “That kind of comment’s not necessary, is it?”

      He flashed a glance at her, then brought his attention back to the road.

      “No, but it’s important that we stay detached enough to do this right. Neither of us knew him that well, correct?”

      “You heard what I said to the commodore. I was talking to Perez about switching rates, just yesterday afternoon.” Hours before he took his last breath. “But no, I didn’t know him that well.”

      “He’d understand that we’re doing what we need to do to keep our sanity.”

      Ro didn’t reply because that meant looking at Miles and whenever she caught a glimpse of his profile she got that funny hitch in her chest. Not from discomfort, but from realizing how natural, almost familiar, it felt to be with Miles.

      She was even getting used to her body’s hormonal response to him, damn it.

      “You have to admit this is pretty funny, Ro.”

      “How so?”

      “It’s taken a death for you to come to your senses about spending more time with me.”

      She bit her lip and gazed straight ahead.

      Just focus on the case in front of you.

      She peered at the house numbers.

      “Up there, that’s the one, isn’t it?” The sun had burned off any remaining morning fog, which was common on Whidbey Island. The house stood at least two hundred feet back from the road, and Ro knew the island well enough to know that the backyard led to a precipitous cliff a hundred feet above the stone-strewn beach. All the homes along this route backed up against the cliffs.

      “Let’s check it out.”

      They weren’t headed to the house—it served only as a landmark as it was the first home on the road, next to a large open area that residents used for picnicking and whale-watching. Ro was grateful she’d worn her uniform skirt with oxfords today. She usually preferred pumps with a skirt, but since she’d been putting in a lot of running miles her back was sore and she needed the lower-heeled shoes. Her pumps would never have survived tramping through gravel and across the windblown timothy grass to the edge of the cliff, not to mention the rocky shore.

      There were still a handful of LEA agents wandering around the beach four or five feet below them. She and Miles needed to climb down the rough path to the tide line. This was the lowest point of the western island, punctuated by tsunami warning signs.

      The LEAs were distinguished by reflective vests and evidence collection kits. A small area had been

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