Guardian (27 page)

Their frenzy of readying for work with only seconds to spare added another level of intimacy, enticing her with how right being with David felt. No time for modesty, Sophie showered while he shaved. He dressed while she dried her hair, nothing but a towel wrapped around her body, a towel that slipped no less than three times with the assistance of a lusty flyboy.

She raced through the living room, grabbing her files from the coffee table and the floor. She straightened the stack and tucked it in her briefcase, leaning at the last second to grab the photo Ricky had drawn for her and place it in as well. That burst of light, the flash, the last thing he remembered before his memory blanked and the shell hit his house…The picture would keep her focused today.

Buttoning her uniform jacket, Sophie dashed across the driveway as fast as her pencil-straight skirt would allow. Her high heels caught in the hot, sticky asphalt, nearly pitching her forward. She stopped by his car, juggling her makeup bag under one arm and tossing her briefcase on the backseat.

Sophie started to leap into the passenger side. David’s hands slid around her waist, his fingers spreading across her stomach and circling a gentle massage. Resting his cheek against the side of her head, he pressed his body flush against her back. His breath ruffled through her freshly washed hair.

“Sophie, I heard what you said to me about your dad, your mother…your husband. I listened, and I understand. That doesn’t mean I can stop myself from wanting
you or trying everything I know to make sure we risk more together.”

He kissed her cheek, a tender stroke more moving than his most ardent plunder. She pivoted in his arms to face him, his clean-shaven, stubborn chin telling her all she needed to know. Just as he’d said, he would fight for her.

The mere thought fluttered in her stomach.

She brushed her knuckles over his chin. “Decisions are so easy for you, David. Clear-cut answers. How do you work through the gray areas so fast?”

“We all have our own pace.” His tanned face creased into a smile. “I know from experience, when you commit to a decision, your determination is a force to be reckoned with.”

His roguish grin chased away a few of the gray-tinged shadows. She turned away before she cried. Or caved.

Gently, he lifted her inside. “We both need to get to work.”

She watched him circle the hood and settle behind the steering wheel. His whipcord vitality stirred her. “It’s not that I don’t want you.”

“I know that.” He pressed her against her seat, his mouth covering hers, hard and fast, stealing her breath, her will. With a wink, he pulled back and started the car. “You think too much.”

Gunning the accelerator, David turned up the radio, ending conversation.

Sophie struggled to put on her makeup as they wove through traffic. He’d left the car top on to keep her hair in place for work. Somehow even the minor darkening shade mingling with the melancholy tunes from the CD player cast a pall over her mood.

She missed the sun on her face, the stinging breeze.
David had taught her how to enjoy the moment. The wind rippling over her during their night rides had been invigorating, tying them together with an elemental bond.

Parked outside the courthouse, Sophie grabbed her briefcase and jumped to the ground without waiting for David. She almost convinced herself she was running to court, not from him. When they moved proceedings from the courthouse to the accident site, she could dive into routine.

She heard David’s longer strides closing the distance between them. He tugged her to a halt near the same spot where he’d tackled her when the gunshots sounded. Fear and longing had bound them then as well as now.

Gentle, calloused hands caressed either side of her face. David lowered his lips to hers, skimming, then deepening into a lazy kiss of a couple who has eased the edge of passion but know it will soon build again. Her briefcase slipped from her grasp and thudded to the sidewalk.

Sophie closed her fingers around his wrists, holding him in place while she surrendered to temptation. The decision seemed so much easier when he held her. The strength of his arms and his will infused her with the courage to push her boundaries a little further.

Then he backed away, nodding to the guard standing watch at the door. She just stood, swaying like someone dazed by a first kiss. She couldn’t stop herself from watching him walk back to his Scout, taking in how damn hot he looked in his flight suit.

Damn straight, he had a fine backside and broad shoulders, along with a sharp mind that challenged her. Was she being stupid to put the brakes on letting their relationship move faster?

A hand tapped her on the shoulder. “Major Campbell, can I speak with you?”

She turned fast. Caleb Tate stood behind her, stepping back.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I hope you won’t be angry with Madison.”

Angry with Madison? Why in the world would she be mad at Berg’s sister. Sophie struggled to sort through the captain’s words. “I don’t know what to think, other than to remind you we shouldn’t be speaking without one of your attorneys present.”

“This is my decision and has nothing to do with them. I know Major Berg is pissed off and suspicious, but I didn’t start seeing Madison because of any ulterior motive. It just happened. And I never saw anything of yours and, God knows, Major Berg would never bring anything classified to the house.”

Understanding swiped away the confusion. Understanding…and anger.

Tate had been seeing Madison all this time and David—damn him—hadn’t said a word.

Frustrated as hell, David downshifted through the late afternoon traffic, the snarl of cars making the drive twice as long. Which also doubled the time for Sophie to give him the silent treatment.

Nearly an hour into the ride, he’d had it. Especially after the unproductive talk with his sister last night and an equally unproductive day at work arguing with the subcontractor Keith Nelson.

He couldn’t do anything about his sister or the contractor. But here, in the car, he could dig to the root of the problem. “So, Soph, are you going to ignore me for the rest of the evening?”

Sunglasses shading her eyes, she looked up from the open file in her lap she’d been pretending to read. “Pardon?”

“What. Is. Wrong?”

“Nothing.” She looked back at the file, her thumb fanning a corner of the papers.

“Something’s obviously eating at you.” He accelerated past a tourist driving at least ten miles per hour below the limit. “I was married long enough to know that when a woman says it’s nothing, it’s definitely something.”

She peered over the top of her sunglasses. “I do
not
appreciate being compared to your ex-wife.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “that was a cheap shot, but at least you’re finally talking.”

“Talking? You finally want to talk?” Her voice rose with each word. “Fine. How about this for a conversation starter? Why didn’t you tell me Madison and Tate are having an affair? That he’s had free run of her house with my notes for trial lying around for him to see?”

Her anger sent him back in his seat. And he couldn’t even deny her accusation. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d held back.

“I only found out last night.” Which sounded lame even to his own ears now. He tapped the brake as traffic slowed to a crawl.

“It would have been nice to have a heads-up before I walked into court today. That information could have influenced how I targeted my cross-examinations.”

“And why did you send me out of the room when you questioned Juan?” he snapped back, not realizing until now how much that had grated at him.

“Because I had a job to do.”

“So do I, damn it.” He thumped the steering wheel. Traffic came to a total standstill; just his damn luck today.

Digging into the file, she pulled out the photo Ricky had drawn and held it up inches away from his face. “And our job should be about this. Only this. Ricky may not remember getting hit, but he remembers the flash, that split second of horror that something was about to hit his
house. It’s up to us to figure out why that happened, even if it sends your sister’s lover to jail. Even if it closes down your whole damn squadron.”

The drawing held his eyes, homing in his complete focus as something shifted in his brain, pieces of information shadow dancing with each other. What had he and Sophie talked about last night? How this picture was a reminder of that moment Ricky’s life changed in a flash.

David shut out the world and worked to grasp that elusive something his subconscious was trying to tell him about the childish picture. A house. A boy on the couch. A flash outside the window.

A house intact.

The flash
before
impact.

“David? Are you even listening to me?”

He held up his hand. “In a flash. Sophie, it’s about the flash. We’ve got to get back to the squadron. I think I know exactly what happened the night Ricky Vasquez was injured.”

*    *    *

Parked in front of a row of computer screens, Sophie watched footage of an AC-130 in flight, shooting its cannons, the target exploding. Again and again, the test footage rolled.

David had doubled back to the base, making record time since the traffic congestion was only for outgoing cars. He’d refused to tell her what he thought he’d figured out from Ricky’s picture. Instead, David had driven her to his squadron. He’d ushered her through security, where she’d have to leave her purse and cell phone behind before entering a vaulted room full of computers.

Aviators and testers sat at different stations, some reviewing data, others monitoring night flight missions in progress.

Blocking out the buzz of activity around her, she pressed her hands to the table, shaking her head. “David, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing here.”

Other than shooting up a bunch of old, deserted trailers set up as targets in the middle of the desert range.

He leaned over her shoulder, typing on the keyboard, tightening the focus on the next trailer about to be blown to smithereens. It sure appeared to her that the new gun turret modification worked just fine. Her frustration increased all the more with the musky scent of him so close and distracting.

Their argument still lurked on hold between them, neither of them touching. Instead, he seemed to be using the case as an excuse to avoid talking through why he hadn’t been up front with her about Captain Tate’s involvement with Madison.

“Sophie,” he tapped the screen, “look closer. Watch the flash.”

Fingers flying over the keyboard, he slowed the footage to a frame-by-frame playback.

“Okay, so a flash happens before the explosion. Is the shell blowing up prematurely?”

“No, that’s the laser checking the target before the shot. The fire control officer has to trigger that laser before he fires.”

“So Captain Tate would have made two mistakes?”

“Or maybe none at all.” He shifted to sit at the computer next to her. That screen was filled with data rather than doomsday explosions. “Here’s the log data for the flight in question. If you look here, it shows the laser was
in the
Off
position even though Ricky remembers seeing the flash. There’s no way Tate could have fired the laser. It must have malfunctioned and fired itself. And if the laser malfunctioned, then the gun could have as well.”

A malfunction could explain everything, but it felt like too convenient an answer. “Why do you have data that shows the laser was off, but no data on whether or not his gun controls were in the
Off
position?”

“The plane had left the range, and data readout ends once the plane leaves the range. Except for the laser. We have to track how many hours the laser is used for maintenance purposes. The laser was off. This level of malfunction would also explain why the computers didn’t register that there was still a round left.”

“How did this contingency never come up before?” She leaned back in the chair, her eyes locked on the frozen image. The flash and intact target mirrored Ricky’s drawing, the laser flash he would have seen before the impact.

“We were too focused on the data we had inside the range. This changes everything. If the laser fired on its own, then the gun could have as well. We can send the new turret system back to the subcontractor for review. With this data, he should be able to trace the malfunction in the programming, to tell us what went wrong. This could clear Tate—and keep this from happening again.”

She rolled back the chair from the monitor, fast, energized by the possibility of a real break in the case. “This could also bring the contractor’s work into question. We’ll have to scrutinize his part of the testing process more closely.” She looked up sharply at David. “I assume you don’t have a problem with that?”

“None whatsoever. I only want the truth.”

There was no missing the hint of anger—even disappointment—in his eyes. Her accusations about Tate had upset David, and he wasn’t ready to forget.

Neither was she. And yes, she embraced the distraction of work to keep from dealing with her jumbled feelings for David. “I have to get back to my cell phone and call Geoffrey. We need to file for a continuance until we can sort this all out.”