Code Name: Bikini Page 23

  “The culprit,” he muttered. “Sunny’s stowaway.”

  “Tobias was supposed to be watching it.” Gina took the wriggling shape and cradled him against her chest. Immediately the cat began to purr, and she smoothed her cheek against the soft white fur. “I see why Sunny lost her head.”

  The cat burrowed beneath her jacket, meowing.

  Trace figured the cat was a lot smarter than he looked.

  They were halfway to the elevators when a light flashed on Trace’s wristwatch. He took Gina’s arm and raced toward the closing doors, pulling her behind him.

  “What—”

  Trace punched the button for her floor. “Does someone clean your cabin while you’re at work?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Then we’ve found your thief,” Trace said harshly. “Someone just unlocked the door to your room.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  HER LIFE WAS SERIOUSLY screwed up.

  Gina didn’t know whether she was coming or going, what she wanted or didn’t want.

  No, she knew that much. She wanted him.

  But she couldn’t want him. Everything was a mess since she’d run into him. She liked things neat and organized, her life like a well-arranged kitchen, but being around Trace O’Halloran was like a crash course in chaos theory.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the slow, careful way he’d touched her.

  No good thinking about that. She needed time and distance to sort out her tangled emotions.

  When she stared across the elevator, he was cool and alert, in full professional mode, reading a text message on the wrist unit that was clearly more than a watch.

  As he scrolled through a series of screens, Gina saw him frown. He had to have put some kind of monitor on her door without telling her, taking the whole sabotage issue seriously from the start.

  Gina prayed the thief was Blaine. Then she’d have the evidence she needed to clear her name and get on with her life.

  The cat meowed against her chest, and she slipped him inside the front of her jacket so he was out of sight.

  “Stay at the end of the hall until I see if everything is clear.”

  Gina didn’t want to wait. After all, it was her cabin that was being burglarized. She wanted to be beside Trace when he closed in.

  But she wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t insist. “Okay. But make it fast. I want to see Blaine’s face when you catch her.”

  “It may not be Blaine,” he said quietly.

  Gina didn’t have any doubt. Whoever had set up these attacks knew the ship inside and out. It had to be Blaine in search of trouble, pure and simple.

  The elevator doors chimed softly. Trace stepped out silently, motioning her behind him. As soon as he saw the corridor was empty, he vanished around the corner.

  Gina waited, her heart pounding. She expected to hear Blaine’s voice, raised in angry curses that exploded down the hall, but the silence held.

  There were no fleeing footsteps, no angry questions. She peeked around the corner and saw that the door to her cabin was open. Trace’s back was turned as he crouched on her floor, which was littered with what looked like all her books and most of her yarn and knitting needles.

  She shot forward, praying that Trace had caught Blaine at work.

  But when she reached her doorway, something red dotted the floor. Over Trace’s shoulders, she saw a body sprawled in her desk chair. His face and chest were covered with blood.

  Her heart hammered as she stared at the dead man’s face. It was John Riley from ship security.

  Two metal knitting needles jutted from his neck.

  TEN MINUTES LATER Gina was leaning against the wall outside her cabin, trying to ignore the voices and the screech of walkie-talkies. Even though her head was turned, she could still see the dead man’s face in her mind.

  Eyes glassy and staring.

  Hands at his throat.

  Half-dried blood everywhere.

  Tobias came out to stand beside her. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’ve had better days.” She closed her eyes. “So did John Riley,” she whispered. “It still seems like a bad dream. Who would do this?”

  “I’m going to find out, believe me.” Tobias’s eyes were cold. “We’ve got another complication. Remember those needles you lost, the ones you mentioned at the meeting tonight?”

  Gina nodded, watching Tobias’s team cordon off the area.

  “I’ve checked the ones that were in the body,” Tobias said quietly. “I’m afraid that they were yours, Gina. I’m going to have to question you in the murder of John Riley.”

  All the warmth drained from her face. Tobias thought she’d done it? “I’d like you to follow me,” Tobias said, his voice carefully neutral.

  Trace moved in front of her, one arm steadying her shoulders. “Forget it,” he growled. “I was with her all night. I’ll swear to that, so you’ve got no case.”

  Tobias glanced at two security officers crossing the hall. “I have to take a statement from everyone involved.” He nodded at the two men. “Escort her to my office, please.”

  He didn’t meet Gina’s eyes.

  “This is crap,” Trace snapped. “You’re wasting everyone’s time questioning Gina.”

  Tobias turned sharply. “A man is dead. Do you expect me to ignore that?”

  Gina felt the touch of something cold at her neck. If the attack was meant to confuse and frighten, it was succeeding. If it was meant to destroy her career, it could do that, too.

  Down the hall a woman’s voice cut through the muted conversations. Blaine pushed past a senior staff member and several security officers. “What’s wrong? Why are you—”

  She stopped abruptly as the ship’s medical staff wheeled a gurney into Gina’s cabin. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

  “You’ll be alerted in due course,” Tobias said icily. “Please go back to your cabin and clear the hall.”

  “Not until I know what’s going on,” Blaine shot back. “I have a right to know if there’s a problem—” She looked past Tobias, frowning. “That’s Gina’s cabin. Isn’t that—” The question ended abruptly as she saw the gurney reappear, draped in black plastic. “Someone’s dead,” she whispered.

  If she was involved, she was delivering an Oscar-worthy performance, Gina thought.

  Blaine pressed one arm against the wall for support. “Who…who is it?”

  Tobias moved in front of her. “All of you, clear the hall. I’ll need statements from each of you. I’ll let you know when.”

  Sluggishly, as if in a dream, Blaine turned. When she saw Gina, she stiffened. “What did you do?” She charged forward, but Trace cut her off, holding her in place.

  “Time out, lady. Now get your ass out of the hall, the way Tobias just told you to do.”

  Blaine struggled furiously until she was escorted away by two of Tobias’s men. Like a woman in a daze, she walked away without looking back.

  “THESE QUESTIONS WILL BE recorded. Do I have your consent, Ms. Ryan?”

  “Of course.” Gina sat stiffly, staring forward. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “You should have legal counsel present. It’s the law.” Trace spoke from the back of the small room, his voice curt.

  “Lieutenant O’Halloran, if you continue to disrupt this meeting, I’ll have you removed.” Tobias sat with pen in hand, looking distant. “You are here at my sufferance. This is not a formal police investigation. That will be up to the FBI, assuming they choose to exercise jurisdiction. This meeting is strictly to identify the location and activities of all involved.”

  “She wasn’t involved. She was with me the whole night,” Trace said flatly.

  “You will have your chance to answer questions next. And may I remind you that your interruptions are slowing this process at a time when we all have other important things to do.”

  “Trace, it’s all right.” Gina glanced back at him, her eyes cool and glazed.

  A
glaze he’d seen before in himself as well as others on his team. The glaze acted as a shield, blocking anything personal behind cool professionalism. Where had that skill come from?

  She was a pastry chef, not a soldier.

  “He has to eliminate possibilities before the truth can be reached,” Gina said. “You know that.”

  Trace crossed his arms. Point taken. He did know that, but how the hell was she managing to keep all her emotions in the background where they belonged, when he couldn’t?

  And the timing couldn’t be worse, creating distraction and confusion when they needed to focus on the security of Tobias’s safe. It was just the kind of thing Cruz was capable of doing to suit his own ends.

  Ruthlessly, Trace concentrated on the facts and what had to be done next.

  Emotions had no place here.

  He heard a small squeak from behind the door at his back. They’d had time to hide the cat in Tobias’s private bathroom, where he was now well fed and tucked up in a drawer lined with a towel. One problem solved. If only the others were as simple.

  He glanced at his watch. Izzy and the Foxfire divers had an ETA of 0300 hours, with a stealth entry via exterior cables. They would immediately scatter in arranged locations throughout the ship.

  Trace was fully prepared for more attacks before docking.

  “Please state your name and crew ID number.” For a moment Tobias’s face softened. “Job title also. Please speak directly into the recorder.”

  Trace stood impatiently and waited for his turn.

  Over his head the security monitors winked.

  THIRTY-EIGHT MINUTES.

  As interrogations went, Tobias had been clean and fast. Gina knew that with the rational part of her mind, but the rest of her was angry and shaken. All she wanted to do now was disappear, away from curious eyes. She sensed Trace beside her and knew without looking that his face would be set in the same mask she’d seen all through the proceedings in Tobias’s office.

  She looked up as he steered her around the corner. “Where are we going?”

  “My cabin. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll be in and out,” Trace said tersely.

  Something important was going on, she realized. John Riley’s murder had to be part of it. “You’re not going to tell me what this means, are you?”

  “I don’t know what it means.” His voice was cold. “Tonight could be a very long night. You’d better rest while you can.”

  They didn’t talk, walking through the quiet corridors with the familiar throb of the engines beneath Gina’s feet. But now there was menace in every shadow and danger in every stranger’s face.

  She shuddered, remembering the blood. Riley’s glassy stare of shock and fear. The killer was still here, among them.

  A hand gripped her shoulder and she jumped.

  “Steady. Just me. We’re here.”

  She was surprised to see they were already at Trace’s cabin. The bed was turned down. His clothes were folded neatly on a nearby chair. She fought back a yawn as he put a cell phone on his desk and checked his messages. When he looked up, she was still standing in the doorway, too tired to think.

  He pulled her inside, shut the door and slipped off her jacket, tossing it on the foot of the bed. “Get undressed or I’ll do it for you,” he ordered.

  No passion or desire now, Gina thought. Seeing a corpse had that effect on people. First the shock, then the denial. Then this frightening sense of detachment.

  She leaned over and tried to untie her shoe, but her hands were shaking and she ended up making a knot. There had been so much blood…and her knitting needles in his neck.

  A small sound of horror built in her throat.

  She felt Trace’s hands on her shoulders. Quick and efficient, he stripped off her cotton shirt and slacks, then pulled her back onto his bed, with his arms around her.

  He held her until the shuddering stopped, until her body lost its deathly chill. And she slept.

  SHE HEARD FOOTSTEPS and then the sound of the shower.

  Gina sat up, wide-awake, and saw that she’d slept for barely an hour. In the second of waking, she’d realized how precious life could be, how easily lost.

  And how stupid it was to waste what time you had.

  Maybe she was a fool to make the decision she’d just made. Maybe it was simply the result of fear.

  But Gina didn’t think so. It would have been far simpler to turn away, close her heart and pretend to be asleep when the shower stopped.

  The bathroom door opened.

  It took all her courage to stand up and block his way. Her heart pounding, she ran her hands along his damp, naked shoulders and pushed him back against the wall.

  “You started something tonight, damn it. Now I’m going to finish it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  HER HANDS WERE shaking.

  She’d never been so frightened. If he turned away, brushed her off—

  Not tonight. Tonight she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  A muscle moved at his jaw as she pulled the towel off his rigid shoulders. It flowed through her fingers, snagged and then dropped to the floor.

  After his shower he’d pulled on snug jeans left unbuttoned at the waist, and she took her time looking.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making up for lost time. Stop distracting me.” She took a deep breath and tugged at the waist of his jeans. The taut denim didn’t move.

  Was she going to mess this up? Would this be another regret, another chance left untaken in her life?

  She gripped his jeans, felt his fingers close over hers.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” His voice was rough.

  “Wrong. It’s the best idea I’ve had. Now stop talking and let me—”

  “Why should I stop talking?” He pulled her hands from his jeans and pressed them flat against his chest.

  His warm, damp chest.

  Pleasure cut like a beautifully sharp knife. Her breath backed up as she felt the flex of hard muscles.

  “Because you’ll ask questions and be logical and try to talk me out of this, but tonight I say to hell with being careful and logical. A man just died in my cabin with my knitting needles through his neck.” Her voice broke. “Right now careful and logical doesn’t look very good. I want hot and reckless.”

  “You can’t have it.”

  “Like hell I can’t.” Her hands headed back down, burrowing under his tight jeans.

  “Damn it,” he whispered. He slid an arm around her, their bodies fusing as if they’d been made just for this time and this moment. “This is adrenaline and stress. Don’t mistake it for anything else, Gina.”

  Love.

  He didn’t say the word, but she heard it just the same. “No analyzing. No tomorrow. I want your arms and your body, Trace. Forget all about the mind stuff and the sweet promises. Give me the heat.”

  That was what she would remember after this night ended and he was gone. The knowledge hurt, but Gina had to be clear that he was leaving, that this was just now, just tonight.

  Temporary would be enough.

  She rose to her toes. Slowly, tenderly, she bit his lip and heard his rough curse hiss through the quiet.

  A little smile ran through her at the sound. Cursing was good. Cursing meant she was wearing down that iron control.

  It meant she was going to get what she wanted.

  Feeling a little giddy, she skimmed his chest and then followed those glorious muscles down until she worked her hands into the back of his jeans, finding hot skin. He was commando beneath the denim. Warm muscles flexed under her hands.

  Any minute she might just pass out from hypoxia.

  Her fingers smoothed and explored, and she felt the press of his erection against her thighs. She realized that Trace was saying something to her, but the sounds seemed to echo through a long tunnel, and all Gina could think of was how they fit together and how
warm his body felt and how she wanted to be naked with him inside her.

  He said something again, and then his hands tightened on her shoulders. “Slow down, I said. It’s not a race.”

  Wrong. For her everything was a race. Within a matter of months her sight would begin to fade. She wanted a full quota of memories to fill the dark that was coming, and this strong body would be the best of those memories.

  “I want to hurry,” she said tightly. “I want hot and breathless. Stop arguing with me.”

  He said something that sounded like impossible and shook his head.

  “Take your jeans off,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  His hands softened. “You’re beyond impossible, you know that?” His fingers traced her cheek. Then he lifted and turned her in his arms, pinning her against the wall, and his hand snagged the little red bow at the edge of her red lace bikini briefs.

  “Nice.” His voice was rough.

  The bow popped and the lace slid down her legs onto the floor.

  “Very nice,” he said hoarsely.

  Gina slid her arms around his waist, sighing as rough denim rubbed along her sensitive thighs.

  “Help me get rid of your jeans.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  She didn’t wait for him to argue. She hooked her fingers through the loops on his waistband and tugged.

  The man was built, all right. She realized that the zipper wouldn’t move because it was stretched taut. She licked her lips, exquisitely conscious that he was naked under that tight denim.

  Her fingers shook. She hesitated, afraid she’d do something wrong and end up hurting him.

  His lips brushed her cheek. He seemed to sigh. “Hell, you may as well go on. You won’t hurt me.”

  His erection was clear and obvious. Just as obvious as her desire. Gina was determined to be screwed straight to oblivion and back.

  She murmured his name, turning as he kissed the hollow between her shoulders just right and she felt heat climb, making her heart pump harder, leaving her shaky and alive and wet for him.