In Close Quarters. Candace Irvin

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СКАЧАТЬ was the promise that had come with them, that insidiously magnetic pledge that always came with those eyes. One sultry look and TJ could pull her right in, have her believing that no matter how many women he’d had in his past, she was the only woman he wanted in his future.

      But that was a lie.

      His behavior at the wedding had proven that, hadn’t it?

      She dragged the copper teapot to the front burner of the stove and toggled the corresponding switch to high. Okay, so there was no way she was calling TJ. Next option?

      For the life of her, she couldn’t think of one. Not one that would preserve her career, anyway.

      Music. It always helped her think.

      She spun back to the breakfast counter, dodging the pair of white heels that matched the uniform she’d yet to remove as she snagged the radio/CD remote from the counter. She aimed the remote past her mother’s latest gift to the wall unit beyond. A saucy voice she hadn’t heard in months filled the apartment.

      “—hoping to get to the airport on time, it’s not looking good. I-5 north is still backed up from the Coronado bridge to Hawthorne due to a serious four-car collision earlier this evening. Ambulances have cleared the scene, but it could still take an hour or more to sit through the cleanup. Seek an alternate route. That’s it for now. In the traffic center, this is Country 99.5’s Candy O, saying—”

      Karin punched the remote again, slapping the remote on the counter as a jazz CD kicked in. At least now she knew why Reese hadn’t returned her call. He and Jade had obviously heard about the accident and left early. Maybe it was for the best.

      Chances were, the note was all some stupid joke.

      Someone at the hospital was probably trying to get a rise out of her. Maybe Doug Callahan, maybe not. Heck, for all she knew, every other first-year resident would be getting the same note when they checked aboard. No doubt it was some sick rite of passage. Maybe even a drill of some sort. The Navy was big on them.

      But what if the accusation was true?

      She rounded the breakfast counter to scoop up the note.

      Class twos are walking.

      No. This had to be a prank.

      If someone was stealing narcotics from the base hospital, wouldn’t she have been given a bit more to go on? Like a specific drug? Or a suspect? At the very least, a point of contact?

      Well, she hadn’t.

      And that was because this was a test. Someone obviously wanted to see if she was on her toes. Maybe even evaluate her integrity. Probably because of Doug.

      Thump, thump, thump.

      The knock on her door startled her so swiftly, she dropped the note. She grabbed the sheet of paper as it fluttered down, snagging it inches before it reached the cream carpet.

      Reese?

      Not unless their flight had been delayed along with the traffic. Hoping against hope, she refolded the note and slipped it into the breast pocket of her uniform as she headed for the door. Rising on her tiptoes, she peered through the peephole—and gasped.

      Impossible!

      But as she stumbled away from the door, she knew it wasn’t. Even from his backside, there was no mistaking that shock of straight black hair falling well below those broad shoulders. She had a special agent standing at her door, all right, but it wasn’t Reese Garrick.

      It was his partner, TJ Vásquez.

      She recovered quickly, creeping back to the door to tiptoe up and peer out. It was him all right. He still hadn’t turned around, but there was no doubt in her mind. That sleek six-foot-plus muscular frame could only belong to one man. As usual, he was wearing snug black jeans and his matching black leather jacket. The one that smelled just like him.

      Half a year and a door between them, and she could still smell that jacket. The most incredible mix of leather and spice, with a tease of fresh air. Of course, the clincher was the equally black helmet cuffed under his arm. The one that matched the satin paint on his motorcycle. According to TJ, not just any motorcycle. A 1949 Indian Arrow. A classic.

      All she knew was the bike was as dark and sleek and dangerous as he was.

      Any hope she’d held out that it wasn’t him crumbled as he turned to glance down the hallway. At least he wasn’t facing the door. Six months was a long time. She blessed each and every one of those months as she reacclimated herself to the sight of that dusky skin, proud nose and prominent cheekbones. She also doubly blessed the three inches of solid wood between them. It gave her something to hold on to. And then he turned.

      In profile, Tomás Juan Vásquez was handsome.

      Head on, he was downright devastating.

      Even through the glass, the force of those deep-brown eyes and thick brooding brows punched her stomach straight through to her toes. She tried sucking in her breath one shallow gulp at a time, only to discover he’d knocked the air from her lungs, as well.

      He stepped forward to rap on the door again, this time hard.

      Damn. What the devil was she supposed to do?

      If Reese didn’t know about the note, there was no way TJ could, either. So what was he doing here? And how had he gotten by the doorman? Peter had been known to turn away veteran cops, unless they had an official warrant—

      Official?

      Panic streaked through her as she zeroed in on the chilling explanation. But as TJ shifted the helmet to his left hand and raked his right through his hair, she realized the fear wasn’t irrational after all. It mutated to full-blown terror as she finally noticed the lines that had set in about his mouth, the tension threading through his gaze, as well as gripping his shoulders. It would take a direct blow to TJ’s heart to put that look there.

      Jade. Reese.

      The accident.

      She grabbed the security chain and yanked it across the metal track, wrenching the door open as it popped free. “Oh, my God, how badly are they hurt?”

      Chapter 2

      TJ blessed his reflexes, catching Karin instinctively as she hurled her petite curves at him, firing questions faster than he was able to empty the magazine in his Glock. What was she talking about? Who was she talking about? Then he knew.

      Reese. Jade.

      The flight.

      Madre de Dios, what had happened?

      His helmet landed at his feet as panic swamped him. Lifting Karin by her arms, he scooped her back into the apartment, releasing her as he scanned the entertainment unit that spanned the wall opposite him—but if there was a television behind one of the whitewashed doors, it was off now. He spun back around, straining for the sound of late-breaking news on the radio.

      Nada.

      All he heard СКАЧАТЬ