“What are we doing?” she asked, looking around now.
“Picking up some beer.”
“For what?”
“Us.”
“I should get back to my room,” she said. “My supervisor might call. And I have work to do tonight.”
He reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder. His thumb brushed the side of her neck, and his gaze locked on hers. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough today?”
“I still have—”
“Take a breather, Elaina.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re wound so tight, you’re like a guitar string about to pop.”
She watched him for a long moment. “And having a beer with you is going to cure me of this condition?”
“Can’t hurt. Come on, I’m buying.”
She looked out the window uncertainly, and he could tell she was wondering where they were going to drink these beers. Her place? His? He just sat there, letting her wonder.
She glanced at her watch. “
One
beer. And then I have to get back to my room.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
As he disappeared into the gas station, Weaver’s words of warning came back to her, along with a tiny measure of common sense.
Beer. Man. Moonlight. Elaina knew exactly where this was heading, and she didn’t want to go there. Or rather, she absolutely
did
want to go there, but she knew it would be a mistake. This was her first big case. She was at a turning point in her career. It was definitely not the time to have a fling with a stranger, particularly one who could cause her all kinds of professional problems, if he wanted to.
Would he do it?
She didn’t know. He’d said he wasn’t going to put her in his book, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him.
Elaina sighed, annoyed with herself. Why was she feeling this temptation now? She’d gone through twenty-two weeks at the Academy and avoided all the random hookups that were so common among new agent trainees. Most of the single members of her class had worked hard and played hard. She supposed it wasn’t surprising—the predictable result of cramming hundreds of twenty- and thirty-somethings together to sweat and spar and stay up all night studying. The Academy was a pressure cooker, and many saw sex as an effective remedy for stress.
Elaina, not so much. She’d sought her physical release on the nine-mile obstacle course, known as the Yellow Brick Road for the painted yellow rocks showing runners how to navigate their way through the wooded trail.
SUCK IT IN! HURT. AGONY. PAIN. LOVE IT!
The signs posted along the trail had been her motivation, her reminder that pain was necessary, that perseverance was critical.
And when the academic pressure had started to build, she’d sacrificed sleep and poured more hours into studying.
Week after week, she’d plodded her way through, immune to the subtle come-ons from the men around her. The ability to ignore distractions and focus on a goal had always been one of her best skills.
And now it was failing her.
A trio of girls in bikini tops and cutoffs exited the store and piled into a convertible. Music blared from the speakers as they peeled out of the parking lot and turned onto Lito Highway.
Elaina watched the car fade away and felt wistful. A pang of regret for something she’d lost, but never had. And then the wistfulness disappeared, and she wondered whether each of those girls would make it home safely. Probably they would. But possibly one of them wouldn’t.
The door jerked open and Troy slid behind the wheel. He handed her a six-pack of Dos Equis, and the bottles were already slick from the heat. He backed out of the space.
“I just got a text message from my boss,” Elaina said.
Troy turned onto the highway and glanced at her.
“He wants me to call him, so I’m going to have to take a rain check.”
He didn’t say anything as he cruised down the highway in the direction of her hotel. As he neared the inn, he put on his turn indicator, and she realized the flaw in her plan. She didn’t want him walking her to her room.
“Actually, could you drop me off next door? At that little grocery place?” She smiled at him. “I skipped dinner, and I need to pick up some things.”
He slid a look at her as he passed the hotel. “Appetite’s back, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He turned into the Quick Mart lot and found a space right in front of the entrance.
“Thank you,” she said, pushing the door open. “And for taking me to Ronnie’s, too. I really appreciate it. I’ll let you know how this thing turns out with the bullet.”
“I’ll drive you back to the inn.”
“No need. It’s just next door.” She smiled. “Anyway, thanks.”
She felt his gaze on her as she entered the grocery store. She blinked at the bright fluorescent lighting and took a moment to get her bearings. She actually did need some groceries. That hadn’t been a lie. She snatched up a basket and filled it with the same items that occupied her pantry at home: granola bars, sunflower seeds, pretzels. In the refrigerated section, she grabbed a six-pack of yogurt and some fruit before heading to the check-out counter.
As she walked back to the inn, she congratulated herself on resisting the urge to do something incredibly stupid. It was a wise decision. She should be pleased with herself.
Instead, she felt cranky.
She passed the front desk, nodding at Brenda, the night manager, before walking down the long, carpeted hallway that grew dimmer as she neared the Sand Dollar Suite. The overhead light was out near her door, and she made a mental note to mention it to the front desk in the morning.
She let herself in and switched on the light. The maid had been here, and it smelled like lemons again. She put the grocery bags on the dresser and stashed a few things
in the mini-fridge before plugging her phone into its charger. Still nothing from Scarborough.
Troy had been right. All her muscles were tied up in knots. But what she needed more than beer and companionship was a hot shower.
She stood under the scalding spray and thought about her discovery. How would her boss react? With skepticism, most likely. A nine-year-old bullet was a shaky lead at best. And Elaina’s request that Scarborough send a team out to recover it from Ronnie’s shed could get her laughed out of the office. When her boss had told her that she could offer to fast-track lab work for this case, he’d meant once they’d developed a suspect. Blind DNA tests were not the norm.
But even the prospect of embarrassment wasn’t enough to make her ignore the possibility that the through-and-through bullet they’d found tonight might have their unsub’s DNA on it. And if that same genetic profile was already in the database… She backed away from the thought. She didn’t want to get her hopes up.
Elaina squeezed the water from her hair and stepped out of the shower. She dried off, then wiped the fog from the mirror with the towel before wrapping it around her body. Troy was right. She
did
look like hell. She ran a comb through her hair and studied her reflection in the glass. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was a combination of too-pale from hours cooped up in an office and too-pink from her recent adventure on Troy’s fishing boat. But who cared, really? She hadn’t come to this island to pick up men. She dropped the comb in her travel kit and jerked open the bathroom door.
Her heart lurched. The lamp was on. And Troy Stockton was stretched out on her bed.
“
How
did you get in here?” She stalked over to the bedside.
He gave her an insolent look as he lifted a bottle of Dos Equis to his lips and took a sip.
A warm breeze wafted over her shoulders, and she glanced across the room to the open slider. She strode over to it, dragged it shut, and flipped the latch.
“I told you, I have work to do.” She jerked the curtain closed and whirled around. “What are you doing here?”
“Just proving a point.” He put his beer on the nightstand, stood up, and sauntered over to her. He rested his hands on his hips and gazed down at her, and she was acutely aware of her damp hair and skimpy towel.
His gaze dropped, then came up again. “Put some clothes on. We’re getting you a new room.”
“I don’t need a new room.”
“I’m not asking, McCord. I’m telling. Either you get yourself a new room or you’re coming home with me.”
Elaina stepped back, clutching her towel. Something dangerous flared in his eyes. “I already requested one,” she said, “but there’s nothing available on the upper floors right now. The manager said she’d try again tomorrow.”
“Did you tell her you’re an FBI agent?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Christ, throw your weight around some. Flash your badge.”
“It’s not a Triple-A card!” She walked over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. “I’ll ask again tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder. “Something might have opened— What are you doing?”
He was on the princess phone now. “Brenda? Hey, it’s Troy Stockton.” A smile spread across his face. “I’m good, thanks. Listen, honey, I need a favor. I’m in 132 with Special Agent Elaina McCord. The FBI sent her here to help out with that murder case.”
Elaina huffed out a breath and grabbed a handful of clothes.
“Uh-huh… No joke… Yeah, she’s got a badge and everything.”
Elaina rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom.
“I don’t know. Lemme ask her.” Troy put his hand over the phone. “Hey, have you ever shot anybody?”
She slammed shut the door.
“I don’t think so,” she heard him say. “Yeah, just those paper targets. Anyway, she needs a new room tonight. Something on the second or third floor.”
Elaina pulled on her jeans and shoved her arms into the rumpled blouse she’d been wearing earlier. She jammed her feet into sneakers, not bothering with socks. Of all the arrogant, heavy-handed—
The door opened a few inches. “I got you all set,” he said through the gap.
She yanked the door open and brushed past him. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Better pack up.” He looked at his watch. “She’s meeting us at Room 346 in five minutes.”
“You’re really infuriating, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
She watched him for a long moment. There was a determined look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It told her arguing would be pointless. And she didn’t really want to argue anyway when she knew he was right. Some
guy who could very well be the killer had the phone number to this room and knew she was staying here.
Troy’s eyebrows tipped up. He knew he’d won.
Elaina ignored him for the next ten minutes as she packed her things, exited the Sand Dollar Suite, and rode the elevator up to the third level. The doors were spaced farther apart up here. These were probably larger suites, which was going to be hell on her budget. It probably never occurred to Troy to inquire about a little detail such as room rates.
Brenda stood in front of a room at the end of the hallway. She smiled shyly as Elaina approached with Troy at her side.
“I can’t believe you’re with the FBI,” she gushed. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a federal agent stay here.”
“Sorry to be so much trouble,” Elaina said as Brenda opened the door.
“No trouble at all.” Brenda moved aside and ushered them in.
Elaina stepped over the threshold and froze.
“It’s our honeymoon suite,” Brenda said when Elaina turned to gape at her.
“I can’t possibly stay here.”
“It’s perfect,” Troy said. “Thanks a lot, Brenda.”
Elaina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she crossed the enormous room and dropped her bag on the sofa beside the
fireplace.
If this suite cost less than four hundred dollars a night, she’d be amazed.
She pulled open a huge armoire and noted the fully stocked snack tray, complete with gourmet chocolate and roasted cashews. She opened the mini-fridge and
discovered an array of miniature liquor bottles, all top-shelf brands.
Elaina turned away and caught a glimpse of the bathroom. It was decorated in the same quaint style as the bathroom downstairs, only instead of the little claw-footed tub, this room had a double shower and a Jacuzzi tub big enough for a swim team.
At a loss for words, she walked to the balcony and stepped out.
Moonlight glittered off the waves as they rolled against the sand. The breeze felt soft on her skin as she leaned against the railing and looked out over the shore. From this high up, she could see all the way to Coconuts, with its flickering tiki torches.
The door slid shut with a
thump.
Troy’s boots scraped over the tile as he walked up behind her. His big, warm palms settled on her shoulders.
“Troy—”
“Shh.” He started kneading, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t step away. The pads of his thumbs dug into her muscles, magically homing right in on all those knots she’d been carrying around. Her head sagged forward. How had this happened? She’d done the smart thing tonight, and yet here she was, on the moonlit balcony of a honeymoon suite with Troy.
“Relax,” he whispered, and his breath was warm against her ear.
“I can’t afford this place.”
“I talked her into giving you the same rate you had before.”
Those hands continued to work her shoulders, and Elaina closed her eyes. His body eased closer, until his thighs brushed the back of hers. She shivered. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against the warm hardness of his chest.
She couldn’t let this happen.
She wanted this to happen.
His hands glided up and down her arms, very leisurely, but she could hear her own heart thudding over the hiss of the surf. He kissed her temple, and her nerves jumped.
“You got a boyfriend I need to know about?” His voice was low and warm.
“No.”
“Fiancé?”
“No.”
His hands slid over hers now, molding her bare fingers to the railing. “Husband?”
“No.”
His grip tightened, and she closed her eyes, letting the solid heat of him completely surround her. Then his right hand moved up to her shoulder, and he brushed her hair to the side, baring her neck.
“So why do you keep avoiding me?”
Her heart raced. She wasn’t sure she could find her voice. “I just think—”