Lara turned to see Grant Blackwood headed their way.
He was a good-looking man in a rough-cut kind of way—one that he probably took great pains to achieve. He played the Texan, the cowboy, to the hilt, right down to addressing Lara as “little lady” several times. He had two homes in Florida, one on Star Island and one in Key West, a mansion in Houston and several small “cottages” around the country.
His wife was currently at their “little place” in the Hamptons.
“Ladies! How cruel of you to deprive the rest of us of your company,” he said, his drawl booming, rich and deep.
“I’m so sorry, but this lady has just received a call from her chauffeur. I told him he must get me out of here and home to bed at a reasonable hour,” Sonia said, followed by a yawn. “I promise you, it’s not the company. It’s too many flights in too few days, and I’m off again soon.”
Blackwood sighed elaborately. “We’ll miss you, Sonia. Until the next soiree, then.”
“Always such a pleasure, Grant,” Sonia said.
He turned to Lara. “What about you, little lady? How about a walk down to the docks to fill me in on anything new with our wonderful dolphins?”
Lara wasn’t new to his kind of game; she’d worked in the media after all. She was good at handling herself. But before she had a chance to put him off, Sonia leaped to her rescue.
“I think that Lara needs to be very careful about walking on the docks with any man,” Sonia said.
“Why’s that?” Grant asked.
“Didn’t you see her boyfriend?” Sonia smiled. “He’s a very handsome man—and a government man, at that.”
“You’re dating a fed?” Grant said, turning to Lara.
She had seldom felt put on such a spot, but since Sonia had only been trying to help her—and since she was clearly right about Gerry—she phrased her answer carefully. “Well, we haven’t known each other long,” she said. “But he is...quite a man.”
“I wonder if he’s part Latin?” Sonia said. “He looks as if he could be quite passionate.”
“Oh, yes, he’s very passionate,” Lara agreed drily.
“I imagine,” Grant Blackwood muttered, looking over her shoulder.
As he did so, Lara knew—just knew—that she had stepped in it now. Why in God’s name he was back again, she didn’t know.
But he was back. The stick-up-the-ass agent was back. And this time he’d undoubtedly heard her.
“Miss Larson, Mr. Blackwood,” he said. He looked at them and nodded, and though he said nothing else, his nod clearly indicated that they should leave.
They took the hint. Sonia waved goodbye and headed for the exit, and fell into conversation with Ely and Dr. Amory. They were lucky to have Nelson Amory, Lara knew. He’d received degrees in both veterinary science and marine biology. He was considered one of the top scientists working in the fields of marine mammal behavior and physiology.
Lara didn’t even want to look at Agent Cody. She had to, of course. He was standing right in front of her, waiting for her attention.
“What now?” she asked with a wince.
“I wanted to let you know that we’ll be heading out early. I need you to be at the end of the dock by seven.”
“Seven. After today and tonight. No problem,” she said drily.
“Thank you. And good night.”
“Good night,” she said.
He took a step away, but then he paused and turned back. She could almost have sworn that he nearly cracked a smile. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“What?”
“Feel free to use me. To protect yourself from Blackwood’s advances, I mean. His Lothario tendencies are well-known. Thinking of me as your boyfriend will probably keep him from bothering you. Even if I do have a stick up my ass.”
He turned and was soon swallowed up by the shadowy path to the parking lot.
As he drove home, Brett was surprised to find himself actually smiling.
So he had a stick up his ass.
Well, the woman he suspected was his key, however unwilling, to finding what he sought was abrasive, annoying and a pain in the backside herself. Self-assurance was an asset, however, and she possessed plenty of it. She was beautiful in a fairy-princess way, long blond hair, beautiful sky-blue eyes with a hint of green and a body that didn’t quit.
Speaking of bodies... He couldn’t really blame her for being upset at being asked to continue the search for more body parts. Most people never found even one in their lives, and she’d already been the unwilling recipient of two.
His smile faded as he thought about Miguel and Maria. He knew that it was contrary to everything in his training to feel so guilty over what had happened. It wasn’t that any agent was ever supposed to forget his or her humanity, but getting too close to an informant was definitely a job hazard. Empathy was great; becoming obsessed was not.
And he had to admit it: he was obsessed.
What plagued him was the discovery that Miguel had been alive when they thought he’d been dead, and that he’d been seen by his home right before Maria was killed.
Brett just couldn’t believe that Miguel had killed his wife. Even if ordered to kill her on penalty of torture or death, Miguel would have borne any pain, any degradation, even death itself, rather than do anything to hurt Maria.
Brett pulled into his garage, closed the door with the remote and sat for a minute. It was after nine; morning was going to come quickly. Hopping out, he saw that he’d locked Ichabod—the neighbors’ cat—in with him. Ichabod was a great cat, mostly Maine Coon with whatever else thrown in. His eyes were orange, and his huge furry body was pitch-black.
Brett had always figured it would be cruel to keep an animal himself, since he was often away from home. But he lived in a strange cul-de-sac in an old area of West Miami that bordered the Gables and South Miami. For being in the city, it was oddly remote. Ichabod had always been free to roam the neighborhood, and somehow he always seemed to know when Brett was home.
“You know I’m just a sucker who keeps cat treats, right?” he asked the animal.
Ichabod meowed loudly and followed him as he entered the house through the garage door.
Shake it off! Diego had told him earlier that evening. Do something else, think about something else. Start with a clean slate in the morning.
His partner was right. After obliging Ichabod with a handful of treats, he tossed his jacket and tie
