Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Love (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Saints Protection & Investigations Book 7) (7 page)

S
aturday morning, Patrick pulled up outside Evie’s condo and watched as she bounded down the steps toward his jeep. Dressed in jeans that fit her curves perfectly and a lightweight green sweater, her thick hair was pulled back with a headband and curled about her shoulders.

Hopping out, he jogged around the front, opening the door for her. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady,” he said, offering her a hand up.

Placing her hand over her heart, she cooed, “Oh, thank you!”

Once on their way to the address of the errant driver, their conversation became more stilted. Looking sideways, Patrick asked, “Are you nervous?”

“Yeah,” she confessed. “To be honest, I am.”

He reached across the console, taking her cold fingers and linking his with hers, offering a squeeze of comfort. “It’ll be fine,” he promised. “We’re just going to ask some questions and not be threatening.”

Glancing at the large man holding her hand, she lifted her eyebrows. “Seriously? As big as you are, you don’t think you’ll be threatening?”

Chuckling, he said, “Well, that’s why I agreed to let you come with me. You’re supposed to mitigate the threat, right?”

Grinning, she settled back and tried to still the knots in her stomach. Too soon, they pulled in front of a small, older house. A tricycle and bicycle littered the otherwise neat lawn, and a man, tinkering with a lawnmower, squatted in the driveway.

Parking in the street in front of the house, Patrick hopped out, walked around, and assisted Evie down from his Jeep.

The man stood as the two approached him, a questioning expression on his face. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Patrick replied affably. “I’m Captain Cartwright of the Army Corps of Engineers and this is Ms. Sinclair from GMS.” He noted the man’s eyes sharpened as he looked between the two. “We’re looking for Chris Tompkins and wanted to ask a few questions about the shipment that was delivered to the base.”

Scowling, Chris grumbled, “I already made a statement about that.”

Before Patrick replied, Evie spoke up. “I know and I did read your report.” Leaning in conspiratorially, she said, “But we’re checking to see who might have taken the equipment…you know…” she jerked her head toward Patrick.

Chris’ expression changed as he said, “You think it was someone from inside the base?”

Patrick wanted to punch something but wisely kept his mouth shut. Evie gave a noncommittal shrug and it seemed to work. Chris’ expression relaxed and his demeanor became less blustery.

“Maybe we could sit on your porch in the shade and talk for a few minutes,” she suggested sweetly.

Chris glanced back at his house and then nodded. “Yeah, come on up.” Once there, he leaned his head inside and yelled, “Babe, got some business to take care of out here. Can you bring some coffee?”

The three sat on the porch chairs and from outward appearances looked to be a gathering of friends. A few minutes later, a small, dark-haired woman appeared with three mugs of coffee, her eyes moving curiously between Patrick and Evie. Two children popped outside also, staring at the visitors. Mrs. Tompkins shooed the children inside and then disappeared back into the house also, after resting her hand momentarily on her husband’s shoulder.

Evie noted the gesture and prayed that Chris had not been involved in the theft, realizing the ramifications would be devastating to the family.

“Whatcha need to know?” Chris asked.

“Basically, could you just walk us through the whole process, from the time you were contacted to the time you finished the delivery?” Patrick requested.

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Chris nodded slowly but kept his eyes down on his mug. “I’m just a substitute truck driver for GMS. I normally drive for the Driveways Sealant Company, here in town. They usually keep me pretty busy, but occasionally on a day off from them, I can pick up extra work as a sub. GMS isn’t the only company I sub for, but I’ve been used by them more ’an once.”

Taking another long sip, he continued. “Got a call one morning asking if I’d be able to do a large load run that day. ’Course I said yeah, ’cause the money’s always good with GMS.”

“Who called you?” Patrick asked.

“Same as always,” Chris replied. “Man named Ed. He’s the plant manager or somethin’ like that.”

Ed?
Evie almost choked on her coffee but knew that Ed would have been the one to call. Her stomach twisted again, the coffee now tasting bitter.
Why did it not dawn on me that I’d possibly be hearing things I’d rather not hear?

“Okay, go on, please,” Patrick encouraged, his eyes jerking to Evie’s. Offering her a questioning gaze, he nodded when she gave a halfhearted smile.

Chris leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face, exuding frustration. Sighing heavily, he finally leveled his gaze toward Patrick and said, “I didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Swear to God, I wish now I’d never answered the fuckin’ phone. Because of the mess, I won’t be gettin’ any more business from GMS and that’s fine by me. It’s less money, but I’m sticking to the Driveway’s business and not messing around with sub work.”

“What happened, Chris?” Evie asked, her voice soft and encouraging.

“By the time I got to GMS, the other trucks were already gone. I just signed off on whatever paperwork was put in front of me and that’s not uncommon. I’m not there when the shit…uh, sorry ma’am…when the stuff is loaded into the trucks. I was given the directions but they’d been programmed into the GPS that was in the truck cab. So I just climbed in, and started driving.”

“What time was this?” Patrick asked.

“ ’Bout nine-thirty in the morning. The other trucks had long since gone.”

Patrick knew the other trucks had left GMS at almost eight o’clock and had made their deliveries by nine-thirty. This would have left Chris completely on his own with the delivery.

“I followed the directions and ended up at some warehouse near the docks. I got out and talked to a couple of the men who were standing around. They invited me inside so I could check my directions and, honestly,” he looked embarrassed, “I needed a pis…um, needed to use the restroom. I swear I was only inside for probably about twenty minutes. I used the men’s room, went to an office and called GMS back to check on the address. I was told they screwed up and gave me the wrong one. They gave me the correct delivery location and I headed back out.”

“Did you notice anything different about the truck? Doors open, truck moved…anything?” Patrick prodded.

Shaking his head, Chris confirmed, “Nope. Keys were still in the ignition, truck still where I left it.”

“Chris, could anyone have gotten inside and taken some of the equipment while you were inside the building?” Evie queried.

Sighing heavily, Chris drained his mugful of coffee. He nodded slowly and admitted, as he ticked off points on his fingers, “Yeah, I guess. But they’d have to have known I was coming and had men and forklifts ready. They’d have to have known what was in the truck and they’d have to have worked fast.” He looked up at them and said, “It’s possible, but damn, it would have to be organized.”

Patrick had watched soldiers in the field unload huge, heavy equipment with record speed when necessary and knew it was more than possible. As Chris described what happened when he arrived at the Army’s base, Patrick already knew this part of the story but let him talk anyway.

Finally, Patrick and Evie thanked Chris and the three walked back toward his Jeep. Approaching where the lawnmower was being worked on, Patrick stopped, glancing down. “You need some help?”

“You know anything about small engines?” Chris asked, his voice laced with a mixture of doubt and hopefulness.

Chuckling as he squatted, Patrick nodded. “I figure my Gramps and I took apart, then put back together, quite a few in my younger days.”

“Well, sure,” Chris acknowledged. “I was cleaning a few parts, but am having a bit of trouble getting ’em back together.”

For the next twenty minutes, Patrick and Chris worked side by side, re-assembling the old mower. With a couple of pulls on the starter cord, it roared to life. Chris shook Patrick’s hand before moving it across the grass next to the driveway.

Evie had watched the men working while sitting in a nearby lawn chair in the shade, fascinated at the glimpse of Patrick in this environment. He was at ease…comfortable. A flashback, of her father mowing their small yards on the military bases, flew through her mind. Different years…different yards to mow. But always home. Her parents always made each place they lived feel like home.

Walking over, Patrick could tell Evie was lost in thought and, by the gentle smile on her face, he hoped she was thinking about him. Her gaze jumped to his as he approached and her smile widened.
Well, if she wasn’t thinking about me, that’s still a great reaction.

Saying nothing on the drive home, they headed into her condo after picking up hamburgers at a drive-through. Evie grabbed plates and put the burgers and fries onto them, squirting the ketchup into a little pile by the fries. Patrick grinned down at the neat presentation of fast-food hamburgers.

Looking up, she cocked her head to the side. “What are you grinning at?”

Stepping forward, he kissed the top of her head, controlling his desire to pull her into his arms. “Just think you’re cute, that’s all. Never seen anyone spend so much time making burgers and fries from a drive-through look so fancy.”

“Hmph,” she groused, pretending to be offended while secretly loving the show of affection. It was so hard battling her growing feelings for him.
Oh, why does he have to be moving away?

After the lunch was consumed, the two settled back on her sofa again and began to dissect Chris’ accounting of the delivery.

“You don’t believe him?” Evie asked in surprise.

“Didn’t say that, but just because he reported that he was given the wrong address doesn’t mean he was.”

“Oh,” she said, confusion marring her expression. “Then how do you know what’s real and when someone is lying if nobody wants to tell the truth?”

Laughing, he said, “This is part of the puzzle solving. I think this is why I’d like the investigating side of things.”

“But puzzle solving with materials is easier,” she complained. “Measurements, equations, the mathematics, the physics of a problem will eventually present the solutions. People?” she huffed. “They don’t fit the same structural dimensions.”

“No, they don’t,” he agreed, still smiling as he watched her adorable face trying to puzzle out the solution.

“So what’s next?” she asked. “How do we find out whether or not Chris was telling the truth?”

Sobering, Patrick thought for a moment. “Well, I can ask the Saints for any assistance in getting into files and records of the shipment. Monty told me that Luke, their computer guru, can get all the info needed from a computer, but it requires someone to insert a specialized thumb drive first.”

“I could do that,” Evie enthused, sitting up straighter.

“Oh, hell no,” Patrick growled. “No fuckin’ way!”

Slumping back down, she said, “Then what’ll we do?”

Pulling out his phone, he sent a text to Monty and within a few minutes received a call. He went over the interview with Chris and then listened as Monty gave him new instructions. Disconnecting, he turned back to Evie, a wide grin on his boyish face.

“Seems the Saints can find out all sorts of things. Can I borrow your laptop, babe?”

Evie nodded and walked over to her small desk and picked it up.
Babe.
She had to admit the endearment made her smile. Turning back to him, she handed him the laptop. “What are you going to do?”

“Gonna send Monty the names of some people at GMS and Luke can start checking their computers. He can’t get as much info as if we had direct access, but it’ll give us something.”

Evie rattled off the few names she knew from the plant, including Ed’s. Patrick looked up, asking about the people she worked with.

Her eyes widened with the implication that someone in the military sales department would be involved in theft. Her face fell, as she considered the thought. Her shoulders drooping, she said, “This really could have been an inside job, couldn’t it?”

Patrick set the laptop on the coffee table, moving closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her into his warmth. She mumbled into his chest, but the words were indiscernible. Pushing her back ever so slightly, he peered questioningly into her eyes.

“I hate the thought that it could be someone I know,” she repeated, as he nodded, silently agreeing.

She became aware of his arms around her, the feel of his strength seeping in. Her soft curves crushed against the hard planes of his body.
This feels right. This feels good. This feels…the way it should.
Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself away and settled back against the sofa cushions, forcing herself to remember that he was leaving. Her hand moved toward her chest, rubbing gently.
Why does this hurt now?
Blinking, trying to overcome the sting of tears, she fought to maintain her composure, but the answer was staring her in the face.
It hurts because we’re already friends. And could be more…if only.