a fugitive? He crossed to a cabinet, removed a fairly new laptop and handed it to her. “I should have run you over.”
“Actually you did.”
“You were only supposed to stay one night.”
Nicole sighed. “Didn’t you say my motorcycle was damaged?”
“I tried to start it, but it wouldn’t turn over. I think some of the wiring got messed up when you decided to run that stop sign.”
“When you hit me.”
Dave shook his head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you, if that’s your plan. Women don’t get far trying to manipulate me.”
“No? I had you pegged for a pushover.” She plopped onto the couch cushion and gave him a challenging look. “You know, the sooner I get a computer and decrypt the data, the sooner I’m out of your hair. You can either work with me or you’re stuck with me.” She shrugged. “It’s up to you. Oh, and could you leave your cell phone? I need to make some calls.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later Dave stumbled through the door of Brigit’s Ladies Apparel store on Main Street in Cape Churn, clutching Tazer’s list in his fist. “Damned woman. I’m a confirmed bachelor, not a glorified babysitter.”
“Hi, Dave,” Brigit Summers called out from behind the counter. “What can I help you with?” She walked around and met him halfway across the small store.
He wanted to tell her he needed help getting a squatter out of his yacht. Instead he handed her the list. “I need these items in the sizes and colors listed.”
Brigit scanned the list, her brows rising. “That’s quite a list.” She relieved him of it and moved around the store, gathering panties, bras, shirts and trousers. “She must be someone special.”
“It’s for my mother,” he lied, frowning hard enough to scare an enemy fighter.
Not Brigit. She laughed. “Right. You don’t have a mother.”
“And how would you know that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Sal and Olie have been trying to set me up with you since you arrived in Cape Churn. I know your height, weight, that you like coffee and biscuits for breakfast and your favorite food is seafood chowder. Your parents live in Arizona, but you never visit. You were in the Special Forces and you got out of the army after eight years.” She stared across at him. “Did I leave anything out?”
“Just the reason why you didn’t go out with me.”
She snorted. “You never asked.” With a pointed look at the clothes in her arms, she sighed. “I suppose I should have known you had someone special already. Nice, eligible men are very hard to find.”
He wanted to tell her the clothes weren’t for his lover, damn it. “I’m eligible. The nice part could be debatable.”
Her face brightened. “Are you asking me out?”
He frowned and backed toward the door. “Look, if you could bag those things, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to square up.”
Her face fell and she gave him a sad smile. “See? Hard to find.” She pasted a smile on her face. “At least I’ll make my sales quota for the day. I’ll have these things ready.”
Dave ducked out of the store, feeling as though he’d escaped a spider’s web. What was wrong with women? All he wanted was to be left alone.
When he got back to the boat, he’d hand over the clothing and show Tazer the door. The yacht, no matter how ratty, was his home, not hers.
* * *
Nicole spent the better part of an hour cyber-poking at the flash drive, hoping the encryption on the data was a simple fix. After trying everything she’d learned from Zip, her super-geek informant she’d met while undercover with the FBI, she knew she had to do more.
Fortunately, Dave wasn’t such a Neanderthal that he didn’t have internet service. In fact, he had a pretty good setup for the captain of a fishing charter business. Beneath the scruffy unshaved face, shaggy hair and sloppy clothes, she suspected there was more to Dave Logsdon than he let on.
Too bad she didn’t have time to figure him out. Then again, he’d probably end up being just as untrustworthy as most males she’d encountered, and not worth the effort to learn more about.
The image of Dave’s face when he’d been deep in the nightmare and choking the breath out of her flashed through Nicole’s memory. He must have seen some pretty serious stuff to be that traumatized.
Her hand rose to her throat. She’d remember to stand way back if she had to wake him from one of those night terrors again. Not that she would be venturing into his bedroom. If he had a bad dream, he’d have to tough it out.
As quickly as his enraged countenance came to mind, it faded and left her with the image of him lying on the bed naked. The man had muscles. Yes, sir. Not a spare ounce of flesh on that fisherman.
Nicole’s body heated; a strange ache building low in her belly. Since Rodney’s betrayal and her subsequent leaving the FBI, she hadn’t let a man past her bedroom door.
After what she’d witnessed in Dave’s nautical bedroom, she might have to reconsider. If only for some recreational sex. As much as she’d like to deny her baser instincts, she had physical needs.
Needs be damned, she’d need more firepower to crack the encryption on the data she’d downloaded. Normally she’d go to Geek for this kind of stuff. Thank goodness she knew a hacker outside of SOS. He went by Zip. If she could contact him, perhaps he’d pass her some code that she could use to hack into the files.
She’d have to wait for Dave’s return with her clothing and the disposable cell phone she’d asked him to pick up while in Cape Churn. It was too risky to use Dave’s phone to call a known criminal. Not only did it expose Dave, it might expose Zip.
Cooped up in the boat, she didn’t dare get out until Dave brought her clothes. She couldn’t risk being seen in the black leather pants and jacket. What she’d really like was a chance to go for a run. She could probably scrounge some oversize sweats and she could wear the shirt she’d borrowed from Dave, but without tennis shoes, a run was a no-go. Too conspicuous in black boots and sweats.
At a standstill on cracking through the data on the flash drive, she rose from the couch cushions and wandered around the living area, inspecting drawers and cabinets. For a man who needed a haircut and a shave, the items in his drawers were neat, orderly and folded or rolled in the fashion of a footlocker kept up by a top-notch soldier. This soldier hadn’t forgotten his training.
In one cabinet, a faded, crumpled picture hung on the inside of the door. In the photograph two men in desert camouflage uniforms, Kevlar vests and helmets, carrying Colt M-4 carbines stood grinning at the camera. At first, Nicole didn’t recognize either one until she looked closer. The taller one was Dave. Not the surly, scroungy man who wanted to kick her off his boat. This was a happier man with a clean-shaved face and unguarded eyes.
What had happened to make him so mad at the world?
The
