Next to Die (23 page)

Lia felt chilled. She stood up slowly and buttoned her jacket all the way up. Her heart sat in her throat like a pill she couldn’t swallow.

She felt cheap now, cheap and mean for using him. But what did he expect? She wasn’t naively romantic like he was. She didn’t believe in young love’s ability to endure.

With the reminder that she was older and therefore called the shots, Lia headed for the stairs. She’d gotten what she wanted—well, not really. Her traitorous body clamored for the real deal, but she’d never tell Vinny that.

“Wait,” he said, squeezing past her. “Put your other hand on my shoulder.”

She wanted to refuse him, but the steps were way too treacherous to descend in heels.

Touching him, even lightly, filled her with remorse.

Forget him,
she commanded herself. Anything more than a fling with the young SEAL was asking for heartache. She’d suffered enough heartache in her short life never to want to feel that way again.

* * *

“Well, hello.”

Penny glanced up from the program she’d been reading to find Hannah Lindstrom towering over her in a violet pantsuit. “Oh, hi,” she countered, pleased to see a familiar face at Joe’s change-of-command ceremony. Ophelia’d had to work and couldn’t come.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

“No, please join me. I’d forgotten that your husband was a member of Team Twelve. Which one is he?”

“He’s not here, actually,” Hannah admitted, taking the seat beside her. “He and two others are on assignment in Southeast Asia. I’m here to represent him, though.”

“How long will he be gone?” Penny asked, marveling at Hannah’s easy acceptance of her husband’s dangerous work.

“About a month.” She hushed herself as she realized that the ceremony was beginning. The color guard marched onto the small stage in front of them and placed the flags in their holders. Joe stood in the company of two other men, the departing commander and the base admiral.

Admiral Johansen approached the mike to address the crowd. “Family, friends, and guests, and members of SEAL Team Twelve, welcome.”

The procedure was standard. Penny, along with other guests, sat before the stage, flanked by Team Twelve’s senior enlisted standing on one side and officers on the other. At the rear of the room, more than twenty junior enlisted stood elbow to elbow, wearing their service blues.

As Admiral Johansen launched into his speech praising the accomplishments of the outgoing commander, Penny caught Joe’s eye. He’d cut his hair the other day. The shorter style gave him a harder edge, as did his dead-serious demeanor. This was not the playboy neighbor she’d known for years. His biography, printed on the back of the program, had nudged her respect to an unprecedented level. Not only was he leader of his ROTC program at USC, but he’d been the honor graduate at BUDS/SEAL training, Class 180.

There was no question in Penny’s mind that Joe had earned the right to lead this team of commandos. She was proud enough to pop the buttons off her work khakis.

As the outgoing commander made his way to the podium, Penny remembered what Joe had said about his health, and she sent up a quick prayer for him. He kept his comments short and simple, imparting confidence that his men were being placed in the most capable hands imaginable.

Penny noted Joe’s indrawn breath. She could tell that beneath his stoic expression, the tragedy in Afghanistan was still fresh in his mind.

But his posture was impeccable as he joined the admiral and outgoing commander at the podium. In minutes, the burden of responsibility was passed from one man to the next, sealed with a handshake and a two-way salute.

As Joe addressed the assembly, Penny gripped her hands in her lap. The murmured words of a teenage girl pricked her ears.

“What happened to his face?”

“Shhh,” hushed her mother. “It was a car accident.”

Penny almost shook her head. Had she done Joe a disservice with that rumor? He deserved recognition and respect for surviving the disaster.

“I’ve always believed,” he said, sweeping a brooding gaze over the crowd, “that actions speak louder than words.” She knew him well enough to sense that he held powerful emotions in check as he spoke. “So, I’m not going to waste your time by talking. Follow me,” he commanded, his gaze compelling and powerful.

Penny could sense by the tense silence of the men around her that his words had exactly the impact intended.

“Hooyah!” he added, and the room echoed with a resounding “Hooyah!” from all the SEALs assembled.

Penny smiled. Joe had innate charisma. It wouldn’t take long at all for his men to follow him unquestioningly.

Commander Goodwin led Joe offstage for a Pass in Review, in which Joe was formally introduced to the men he’d already met under less formal circumstances. Guests were invited to rise and partake of the cake and punch.

“I’d better get back to the office,” said Hannah, reaching for her briefcase. “I’m sorry there’s been no breakthrough on your case yet,” she added, looking pained.

“How much longer will the police guard our house?” Penny wanted to know.

“Not much longer,” the agent confessed. “I’m working on a new angle, though. If Eric sold the ricin to pay for his wife’s medical treatment, then maybe the payoff went directly to a hospital or to a doctor and never touched his hands.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Penny.

“I think so, but it’s tougher than it sounds. Sonja Tomlinson was treated by at least a dozen different doctors, some of whom have moved over the past five years. I’ll call you the minute I learn anything new. And don’t hesitate to call me,” she added, turning to leave.

Penny wandered to the punch bowl, where she helped herself to a full paper cup. She admired the enormous sheet cake but, having eaten lunch just a short while ago, abstained from taking a slice and stepped outside onto the balcony.

The change-of-command ceremony took place in the officers’ club on Dam Neck, a building that stood some distance back from the beach. The wind was blustery and cold, but the sunshine kept Penny from freezing.

An offshore wind rocked her as she reached for the balcony rail. The wind wreaked havoc with the bun at the back of her head. The fitful ocean tossed and bucked beyond the dunes. It failed to offer her the consolation she was looking for.

Feeling eyes on her, Penny turned, hoping that Joe had joined her. She recognized the interloper as one of the senior enlisted who’d stood to her left during the ceremony. As he circled her, he pinned her with his light-colored eyes. Amazingly, the combination cap that covered his dark hair remained on his head, in spite of the wind.

She sent him a small smile and looked away.

He drew to within a yard of her. “Do you swim?” he asked. The question came out in a gruff voice that held a hint of a quaint dialect.

“Of course.” She darted him a curious look.

He hadn’t introduced himself. But his name and rank were readily apparent: “McGuire, Senior Chief.” Service pins vied for space above his left breast pocket. He looked about a decade older than she was, with a handsome, weathered face, a black moustache, and eyes of such a pale hue that they seemed almost colorless.

Those weird eyes took inventory of her figure. Penny suffered the impression that he could see straight through her linen uniform.

“Women have an easier time treading water than men,” he stated.

“That’s because they have more body fat,” Penny countered.

“Exactly.” The gleam in his eyes made it clear that he appreciated the difference. A shiver of awareness went through Penny. Why couldn’t Joe look at her like that?

“Take a look out there,” he invited, turning his gaze at the ocean. “Y’see that column of water that looks sandy? The waves are lower there.”

Following the trajectory of his finger, she nodded. “I see it,” she said, finding his conversation bizarre.

“That’s a riptide.” He pinned her with those eyes. “One minute you’re swimming near the beach, the next you’re being sucked out to sea.”

Something about the way he said that made her shiver. Of course, it was mid-November, and the weather was a far cry from tropical.

“Do you know what to do,” he quizzed her, “when that happens?”

Were they talking about something more than riptides? If so, she had no idea what. “Uh, stay calm,” she suggested, accessing her mental archives, “and swim parallel to the shore?”

He didn’t smile, but she got the impression he was laughing at her. “What if you’re not strong enough to escape the ocean’s pull?” His gaze was mesmerizing.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t swim in the ocean all that much.”

“Afraid of sharks?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t like getting sand in my suit.”

His gaze flickered downward. This time, he did smile, though just barely. “My name’s Solomon,” he said.

“I’m Penny.” She stuck out a hand to cover up her confusion.

His hand came up slowly and swallowed hers whole.

Penny’s knees went weak.

God, he was intense, but at the same time his hand was firm and strong, and by hanging on to hers, he made it obvious that, yes, he was coming on to her. He wasn’t Joe, but he was a man—apparently single, good-looking, and interested in her.

And she could use a little male attention to keep from obsessing about Joe.

“Water’s a little cold or I’d take you for a swim right now,” Solomon said, stroking his thumb across her palm.

With a self-conscious laugh, Penny tugged her hand free. The man was too much.

To her relief, she heard the door squeak open. She turned, and there was Joe strolling toward them, his face expressionless.

Solomon dropped his hands to his sides. “Sir,” he said, acknowledging Joe’s approach.

Joe gave him a hard look. “Senior Chief.” His gaze slid to Penny, lingering long enough to notice heightened color. “Did you get some cake?” he asked her.

“I had to pass,” she explained. “Thank you for inviting me, though. The ceremony was well done. Not too long, not too short. And your speech was perfect.”

“Are you heading home now?”

Home? He made it sound like they lived together.

“No, I have to go back to work.”

“But you’ll be over tonight, right?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t wait to be in the midst of one of Joe’s famous parties, her first time ever to be invited.

“Why don’t you drop by, Senior Chief?” Joe asked, but his invitation lacked warmth. “You should’ve received an invitation.”

“I did, sir,” said Solomon. “I’ll do my best.”

Joe reached for Penny’s elbow. “Come back in. It’s cold out here.”

Was he rescuing her?

As he held the door for her, she took a peek at his face. He looked tense and moody.

A suspicion stitched through Penny’s consciousness that Joe was jealous. Hope floated like a bubble, then burst. Jealous of what? Joe could have any woman he wanted, and he didn’t want her. He’d made that clear the other night.

He’d also just invited Solomon to his party along with all the other male friends he wanted her to meet.

No, in his eyes, she would always be the girl next door.

Chapter Fourteen

“Whoa,” Lia gasped, halting in her tracks. “I didn’t see you there.”

Of course she didn’t. Vinny was dressed in jungle-green fatigues that kept him hidden in the shadows by Joe’s front step. She hadn’t known he was there until he stepped into the light and blocked her way. The throb of techno music, indiscernible from Lia’s pounding heartbeat, carried through the closed windows, letting her know that the party was well under way.

“Sorry,” Vinny said, his crooked smile notably absent. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” He raked her with an incinerating gaze. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Her red-silk dress, reminiscent of a traditional Chinese qipao, seemed to glow in the moonlight. Tonight she intended to cut loose, to forget the new story she was putting together and to forget her lingering regrets over letting Vinny slip through her fingers.

But here he was, reawakening the yearning she’d tried to put to rest. “I didn’t know you were invited,” she said in a shaky voice.

“I wasn’t. I came to tell you that I’m going wheels up.”

She shivered in the night air. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’ll be gone. Can’t say where, can’t say why, can’t say how long.”

The agitation she’d been suffering all week morphed into nerve-snapping tension. “Why does that sound so dangerous?” she asked.

His cocky smile made a brief appearance. “What do you think I do for a living? Shoot pea shooters at Boy Scouts?”

She felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She’d worked so hard to convince herself she didn’t want him—didn’t need him. Here he was, telling her that he was going away. But rather than relieve the struggle inside her, the news devastated her.

“I saw your sister at the change-of-command ceremony today,” he volunteered.