A Question of Honor (2 page)

Noah swallowed his shock as he stared up at her. A
woman
was being assigned to him? He sat for several seconds, digesting his surprise and anger. His commanding officer had told him that a police officer who could identify Garcia would be assigned to his cutter. Noah had leaped at the opportunity. Anything to retrieve his family’s honor over his brother Morgan’s tragedy. He rose hesitantly, bitterness coating his throat. The writing was too clearly on the wall: once again his superiors were going to try to railroad his career. This time they were handing him a woman agent to work with. She didn’t appear capable of much. She looked more like a bedraggled stray in need of some care. She couldn’t possibly be an undercover narc—one savvy enough to know Garcia. It must be a trick. An ugly calling card to remind him that the military hadn’t forgotten about his brother.

Forcing his hand across the desk, he muttered, “I’m Noah Trayhern.”

Automatically Kit placed her hand within his. The contrast was startling as her cold, damp hand disappeared in his warm clasp. For a moment she felt the latent power in his grip, then she disengaged her hand, puzzled at the sudden sense of loss she felt. She’d watched surprise, anger and then a sullen look enter his assessing eyes. Confused, she took an aggressive stance in an attempt to protect her weary emotions.

“Why noon, Lieutenant? I barely had time to clean out my locker and—”

Scowling, Noah threw the report back on the desk. Right now he wanted to wrap his hands around his commander’s throat. “I thought we might get acquainted over lunch,” he muttered.
A woman, of all things.
He’d just been given one of the finest boats the Coast Guard had to command. And now his hopes of distinguishing his career for the honor of his family name were going to be sabotaged once again.

“Lunch?” Kit stalled, disconcerted by his apparent anger.

He tossed her a sharpened look. “It’s the meal between breakfast and dinner. What’s the matter? Don’t the people over in narcotics ever see the light of day?”

Although she managed to remain impassive on the outside, Kit flinched internally when he opened and shut a desk drawer with force. His anger was directed at her. With a sinking feeling she realized that he didn’t want a woman on the job with him. There was so little strength left in her, but Kit dredged up shreds of it, standing her ground. The kindness she’d seen in his face earlier had disappeared, and her heart cried out at the unfairness of the situation. “Look…Lieutenant, I don’t like this any more than you do.” Kit tried to make her voice sound firm and strong. “And I can see you’re upset.”

Noah glanced up after putting away the report and the pen. There was a pleading tone to her husky voice and in her eyes. Frowning, he nodded. “‘Upset’ isn’t the word for it,” he ground out. He felt the barely leashed tension within her; she was a mine ready to detonate. Noah tucked the observation away and held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “Okay—truce, Detective Anderson. You look pretty beat, and I’ve been up all night on a drug bust. I’m tired, but I’ll try to be more responsible for my actions and less the little boy. Deal?”

“It’s better than the alternative,” she muttered. When he smiled, Kit felt as if the sun had come out again. Even if it was a grudging smile. Even if he was forcing it for her benefit. Still, her heart sank at the knowledge that he didn’t want her around. Well, she didn’t want him, either, she thought grimly. A year with this officer was likely to put her right over the edge.

Struggling to maintain an air of neutrality, Noah nodded. So many emotions were rising within him. Anger at the continued harassment by the Coast Guard was primary. But this woman officer was behaving like a prickly cactus, too. Shoving his reactions back down inside, Noah forced himself to be civil. He knew if he went to his superior and asked for the woman to be replaced, it wouldn’t work. Whether he liked it or not he was stuck with her. Somehow, as he had on the other messy assignments he’d been given in the past, he’d have to make the best of it. Judging by the wariness still in her huge gray eyes, she hadn’t sensed his decision.

“Let’s start over,” Noah suggested.

Was he really trying to make amends? Or was this a sham? Kit stared at him hard, allowing her instincts to take over. How long had it been since she’d spoken with a man who had such ease of bearing? There was no doubt he was a leader. And right now she felt the overwhelming urge to lean on someone stronger. Her senses told her Noah was such a man. Kit nodded. “Yes, let’s start over. But why lunch?”

“Narc agents are shadow people. You sleep during the day and work all night. I figured you probably hadn’t been out to lunch in a long time.”

“I’m not really hungry, Lieutenant Trayhern, but if you are, let’s go.”

“Okay.” Noah wanted to dislike her, but there was something ethereal about Kit Anderson that tugged hard at his heart. His emotions were automatically reaching out to her, but his mind was in turmoil about what to do with the situation in general. He wasn’t going to have his career scuttled by this police detective. He intended to find Garcia. It would help his career and, perhaps, begin to remove the stain from his family name.

He moved around the desk, walking toward the doors. He stopped at the entrance and picked up his cap, hanging from a peg. She walked hesitantly at his side, and he could feel her withdrawal. Settling the cap on his head, he briskly opened the door for her, and they stepped out into the brilliant sunshine. “Do you mind if I call you Kit? It’s less formal than Detective Anderson.”

Startled, Kit retreated. His demeanor was suddenly warm, almost as if he’d never had his earlier negative reaction. Her mind went blank.

“Do you mind?” he repeated quietly.

“N-no…of course not.”

Ignoring her stammer, he placed his hand on her elbow, guiding her down the walk and toward the parking lot at the rear of the building. “Call me Noah.”

“I can’t do that, Lieutenant,” Kit replied tensely. His fingers were firm on her elbow. The desire to lean against him for just a moment was almost overpowering.

He gave her an amused glance as they left the walk and headed toward the rows of parked vehicles. “Sure you can.”

Her lips thinned. She jerked her elbow from his hand, pulling to a halt. “This isn’t a date we’re going on, Lieutenant. I was assigned to DEA to interface between narc and the Coast Guard. You’re my boss.”

Noah threw his hands on his hips. Damn, but she was a contrary person! “That’s right, I am. And a little civility is in order. You’ve been in those trenches too long.”

Stung, Kit glared up at him. Her stomach began to knot again. “Now look, Trayhern, you can cut out the flirting act right now. I’ve got five tough years behind me in that drug jungle they call Dade County. I handled it, and I can handle you and this new assignment they threw at me. Keep your distance, be professional, and we’ll get along.”

Cocking his head, Noah studied her, gauging the fervent tone of her voice. The fire in her gray eyes interested him. “You think I’m flirting with you?” Her quicksilver temper intrigued him, and he liked her boldness and honesty. Of course professional conduct must rule. For just a moment he sensed the potential danger in letting himself think of Kit Anderson as a woman.

Kit gave him a flat look. “If the shoe fits, wear it.”

“You are attractive,” Noah admitted, “but I didn’t ask to call you by your first name because I was flirting.”

She watched him wearily. “We might as well get the rest of this settled right now.”

“What else is eating at you?”

“Not me. You. I’m a woman being dropped into a ‘man’s job,’ and I don’t want to put up with chauvinism from you or your crew. I’m a police officer, Lieutenant Trayhern. A damn good one. You give me orders and I’ll carry them out—or die trying. It makes no difference whether I’m male or female—I’ll do the job for you.”

Anger lurked beneath the surface in Noah and it came out in his voice. “You always spit bullets, Anderson?”

“Only when I’m fired upon.”

“Are you always this tough?”

“When I have to be.”

“I’m trying to patch things up between us, and you keep insisting on destroying my attempts.”

Kit resisted the warmth in his eyes. She set her jaw, flashing him a dark look. “Then be honest. You didn’t expect a woman on this assignment.”

“Hell, no, I didn’t!” Noah compressed his lips into a single line. “I got a file with ‘K. Anderson’ on the label. I assumed you were a man.” He searched her upturned face. He was a good judge of people, and he sensed she was emotionally exhausted, though she kept it well hidden. “When your superior, Cordeman, called earlier, all he said was that you had one hell of an impressive record. He neglected to tell me you were a woman.”

Touching her brow, Kit struggled with the rawness she felt. “Look, there’s no way out of this assignment for us,” she muttered. “If I could, I’d go back to Chuck Cordeman and ask for a transfer. But I’m the only one who can identify Jose Garcia.” She raised her eyes, holding his hard stare. “Whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay. Maybe you can request a change of orders. Maybe there’s another cutter captain who’d have less hostility about working with a woman.”

Noah took off his hat, running his fingers through his military-short black hair. He settled the cap back on his head. “I wish the hell I could,” he growled, glancing down at her. “But I’m just as stuck in this assignment as you are.” If he requested a change because he didn’t want to work with a woman, his career would be down the drain, and he knew it. “We’re both going to have to bite the bullet on this one, Detective.”

“Okay.” Kit closed her eyes, feeling dizziness overwhelm her momentarily. She placed her feet slightly apart to steady herself. Chuck had thought this would be a plush, easy assignment. He’d been wrong. She didn’t have the strength to be hard and tough with Noah Trayhern. That was an act she put on when undercover. In real life she wasn’t anything like that. In real life the trauma of her undercover life had brought her close to an emotional breakdown. Kit knew she needed time to heal, but Lieutenant Trayhern wasn’t going to give it to her. He was looking at her as if she were a noose around his neck.

“Come on,” Noah muttered, “let’s go to lunch.”

“You’re hungry?”

“No. But I need a drink.”

Chapter Two

K
it felt more at ease in the darkened surroundings of the restaurant with Noah at her left elbow. She gave him a curious look after he ordered his drink.

“Did you purposely choose a corner where we could sit with our backs against the wall?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s a good defensive position.”

Noah gave her a keen look. “I see your back’s to the wall. Do you find that preferable?”

“Of course,” she confirmed. “Walls can’t sneak up behind you and slide a knife between your ribs or fire at you when you aren’t looking.” Kit noticed Noah’s hands. His fingers were long and capable looking. She could imagine him at the helm of a tall, four-masted sailing ship instead of a modern-day Coast Guard cutter.

“Why don’t you just sit back and relax instead of eyeballing everyone who walks through that door? This is a restaurant, not a dive where drugs are being exchanged under the table.”

“I’ve survived five years because I’m alert, Lieutenant. I’m not about to drop my guard just because you’re with me.”

Noah clamped down on a rejoinder. The waitress delivered his drink and Kit’s large glass of milk.

Kit took a gulp of it, hoping it would quell her screaming stomach.

“Milk?” Noah goaded, eyeing the glass she clutched between her hands.

“Why not?” Kit asked defensively. “Do you have a problem with me drinking milk instead of liquor?”

Noah’s mouth tightened momentarily as he held her stare. “No. But it could mean you have stomach ulcers. Do you?”

Her composure ruffled as Noah’s open expression suddenly slid beneath an unreadable mask. It shook Kit, and her street instincts took over. Here was a man who could be generous, she suspected. Yet he wasn’t to be trifled with, her gut warned. “It doesn’t matter why I drink milk, Lieutenant. As long as I do my job, you shouldn’t care what I eat, drink or do within reasonable limits.”

Noah gave her a cutting smile. “Look, Detective Anderson, I don’t know how Chuck Cordeman treated you, but I consider the people aboard the cutter my extended family. I try to treat each person the way I would want to be treated.”

“So far that quaint rule of conduct doesn’t apply to me, does it?”

He throttled his mounting anger toward her. Noah knew she was right. “I’m applying it right now. I’m concerned about the state of your health.”

Kit shook her head. “My drinking milk isn’t the real issue. Since when does an officer get friendly with the people beneath him? You and I both know there’s a forbidden zone there. The military has a hierarchy just like the one over at the police department.”

“You do have a perverse attitude, don’t you?” Noah ground out.

Kit glared at him. “And you really get under my skin, Lieutenant.” She took another swallow of the soothing milk. Licking her lips, she continued. “I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire life, and I’ve met some real winners.”

In that instant Noah saw her tough street mask slip. “Do you ever smile?” he asked suddenly.

Kit jerked her head up. “What?”

Noah gave her a calculating look. “What the hell have they done to you, Kit, to make you so damned paranoid?”

The words, holding a hint of genuine tenderness, drove deeply into Kit’s walled, aching heart. She blinked once, feeling the rush of hot tears. Noah’s concerned face blurred before her. This time he wasn’t acting. This was the real man beneath the hardened facade of the officer.
Care
was a foreign word to her. No one cared for her but herself. Her lips parted in response and she sat frozen beneath his searching gaze, suddenly overwhelmed by the human side of Noah Trayhern. Bowing her head, she fought against the tears, willing them away.

“No you don’t,” he growled, gently capturing her nearest hand and placing a handkerchief in it. “It’s not a crime to cry, you know.”