Withholding Evidence Page 5

  “Alec can go to hell. His friend’s an ass.”

  Erica sat back in her chair and studied Trina. “I’m thinking Treen didn’t get laid last night. What do you think, Mara?”

  “If she did, it was awful,” Mara replied. “So which is it? Did you drink too much to enjoy the show, or did he have trouble?” She grinned. “That could explain the roses.”

  Trina nearly spewed her drink. She sort of felt like she should defend Keith’s manhood, but decided against it. “He pissed me off before things could get really interesting, and I left.”

  “Shit. No wonder you’re so pissy today,” Erica said. “Sweetie, next time, use him for sex, then leave. Because you are no fun today.”

  She winked at Trina, who couldn’t help it and laughed. Then Trina grimaced. “There won’t be a next time.” She stirred her bowl of stew and wondered why she’d ordered such a heavy meal when she wasn’t hungry. “He lied to me.”

  Her friends all bristled in outraged solidarity, making her feel a tad guilty because she supposed he hadn’t lied so much as he’d played her.

  But that still pissed her off. She should have known. She should have questioned him immediately. But she’d glommed on to the excuse he gave her to leave the party and ended up feeling like a fool.

  “Well, Senior Chief Hatcher is a vast improvement over Perry Carlson,” Erica said, filling the silent void. “Please tell me you are done with that infatuation.”

  Trina felt her cheeks flush. She hated being obvious. “Perry Carlson is a vapid pig. He believes I was a token hire. Because, you know, they just give away PhDs in military history to women. As if I didn’t have to work twice as hard to get into the program, let alone finish it. And the navy, they are so known for their eagerness to hire a woman to work in one of their many, many penis-only departments.”

  “You need a night out,” Mara said. “Dancing, or just drinking?”

  “Drinking,” Trina answered. “Lots and lots of drinking.” She glared at the three women: one married, one engaged, the last with a boyfriend who was crazy about her. “And no men.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KEITH SAT IN his Cruiser in a parking lot outside Trina’s office building and tapped the steering wheel as he debated his next step. He needed to do something big. A grand gesture that would win him another shot with her. He had a feeling the roses hadn’t cut it.

  Since he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted, what could he do?

  The thing he wasn’t ready to do was give up and let her go, although that should top his list of options. Something about her had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the way she stood her ground or the way she called him on his bullshit. All he knew was that if he gave up now, he might be stuck with a lifetime of wondering what if. He already had one regret to haunt him. He didn’t need to add another one.

  His meeting with Rav had been long, informative, and opened a door Keith had never thought would be open to him. If Rav were elected to the Senate, he’d have to hand off the running of Raptor—stepping out completely to avoid Senate ethics violations, because Raptor held government contracts. He’d been searching internally for a replacement, but problems with the Alaska compound meant the best candidate for taking over was needed there for the foreseeable future.

  Rav had decided to recruit elsewhere, and he wanted Keith to take over as CEO.

  The thought was…mind-blowing.

  He was no dummy, but he’d attended all of one week of college. Hell, a big part of him felt Trina, with her PhD, was way out of his league. He knew the navy. He knew strategy, combat, his M110 rifle, his Sig Sauer P226, and he knew what he’d read over the years to make up for his lack of schooling. He could handle the military training aspect of Raptor, no problem, but budgets, financial reports, all the crap that came with being a CEO?

  He’d be in over his head. Big-time.

  The job was a natural fit for Rav. He grew up with money and had an undergrad degree from freaking Harvard. Harvard Law had accepted Rav, but he’d shocked his family by choosing the army instead.

  Rav had shown Keith balance sheets, real numbers. It was astonishing how much money Raptor was worth—or rather, would be worth, when the Alaska compound resumed operation—and he was ready to hand over the company to Keith.

  Keith wasn’t like Rav. His only economics class had been in high school, and while he’d survived calculus, he’d only taken the class so he could spend time with the cute, shy girl who’d tutored after school in the cafeteria.

  He’d always had a thing for brainy chicks.

  But back in his office, Rav had shot down his objections. “You’ll have a staff of people who do understand the financials to break it down for you. You’ll be up to speed in no time.”

  Then Rav had leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said, “Here’s the deal, Keith—and the reason I want you more than some MBA from an Ivy League school—I don’t care if Raptor makes money, I just need it to not lose money. My goal for the business is to give military personnel extensive combat training that could save their lives. After some soul-searching, I’ve decided to close the nonlethal weapons development lab. Given the former CEO’s proclivities, I couldn’t trust the developers or the field test results. I decided to keep the private security division open, because it keeps my operatives fit mentally and physically, and their experiences in that sector can be applied at the training ground. I will never take Raptor public, because then I’m beholden to shareholders and profit, and I couldn’t make these types of decisions.

  “But here’s my problem, if I’m elected, I can’t play any role in the company at all. I need to have blind trust that the person running the company will share my philosophy, and hope for the best. Blind trust isn’t easy for me, but I know you. And I know you can relate to what I’m trying to do here. And I know I can trust you. Think about my offer. No need to answer today or this week, but I’d like Curt to get started on the vetting process, if you’ll consent to that scrutiny.”

  Keith had agreed to the intensive background check—well aware that this would be the equivalent of a CIA screening and wouldn’t be surprised to find a proctologist on his doorstep when he got home—and promised to think about the job. Now he sat outside Trina’s office, feeling a little elated, and, if he were being honest, a lot scared. Rav’s offer was more than he’d ever dreamed. An opportunity he’d never expected.

  That this career path would make his dad pop a vessel was jelly inside a powdered-sugar donut.

  Deep down, he wanted to share his excitement—and even his fear—with someone, and the insane notion of that person being Trina wouldn’t let him go.

  He’d been on dates since leaving Norfolk and moving to DC when he’d left the navy, but no one had triggered more than passing interest until Trina. But then, none of the others had brazenly invaded his home and didn’t flinch in the face of his overbearing, dickish manner. And what kind of woman kept her cool when a guy made a rude comment about her body, but then took a swing because the guy had called Keith a pussy?

  And shit, while he was at it, what about that kiss? Christ. Sweet, hot. She’d filled his arms perfectly and had felt like heaven as she straddled him. Her tight dress had ridden up and revealed she wore a thong underneath, and he’d been in the process of sliding his hands down her back to cup that sexy ass when she’d remembered their deal and halted forward progress.

  He’d barely been able to sleep last night after the way she’d ground against him, and damn but now he was sporting wood. No way could he face her in this state. He ran through the unsexiest things he could think of, forcing all thoughts of Trina from his mind.

  Decent again, he climbed from his rig. He entered her building and made his way toward her cubicle. He found her hunched over a stack of papers, a pen stuck in her bun and a red pen in her hand. She looked freaking adorable, full-on sexy librarian with her slanted glasses high on her nose, a demure pale top, and dark slacks.

  Intent on her wor
k, she hadn’t noticed him, and he took the moment to examine her workspace. Books, papers, and notebooks were stacked three feet high from the floor. Her desk was littered with papers, pens, sticky notepads, books, and assorted debris.

  This was his first glimpse into Trina’s world, and he grinned to realize the woman was a slob. Huh. He’d never really given it much thought but supposed he’d always assumed brainy-librarian types were neat freaks.

  He didn’t see the roses, but there really wasn’t a place for her to put them. He cleared his throat softly in the quiet room, and she glanced up.

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed with anger. No telltale flash of heat or other hopeful sign. Just anger. Damn. He’d harbored a faint hope this would be easy. No such luck.

  She dropped her pen into an open book and snapped it closed. “What are you doing here?”

  “That’ll crack the spine,” he couldn’t help but say. Yeah, so maybe he was a bit OCD. He shook his head. “I’m here to see you.”

  “How did you get on base?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve served in the navy my entire adult life. I have ID.”

  She stood. “Follow me.” She led him down the narrow aisle between cubicles. At the end of the corridor, she turned. She glanced through a window into one room, then shook her head and kept walking. Keith saw the room was occupied as he passed the window.

  Trina paused in front of an open office door, then leaned in. “Mara? Can I use your office for a second? The conference room is busy.” She glared over her shoulder at Keith, then stepped into the room, pulling him inside so Mara could see him.

  Mara startled, and Keith was fairly certain she suppressed a smile. “Sure,” she said and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  The moment they were alone, Trina whirled to face him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I work here. Unless you’re here to talk about something related to my work, you are not welcome.”

  “I considered going to your apartment, but I followed you home last night to make sure you were safe, not to find out where you live, and figured if I used the information in that way, you might think I’m creepy.” He frowned, seeing two dozen rather beat-up red roses on a credenza. “Are those the roses I sent?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened to them?”

  “Security searched them.”

  He couldn’t help it and shook his head and laughed. “Shit. I can’t even send you a decent apology.”

  “The roses came out better than the flower arrangement from Perry.”

  Keith stiffened. “He sent you flowers?” His hand curled into a fist. What if she forgave that bastard?

  “They’re in Erica’s office. Cressida has flowers from one of Alec’s employees in the conservation lab.”

  He frowned. Another guy? He’d have to talk to Alec about that to see if it was something worth worrying about. He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Trina. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have told you that you could ask about Somalia. I was deceptive, and I knew it. I didn’t want you to go back to the party—and not for my sake, but for yours. Honestly, I figured staying would be awkward for you.” He sighed. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to give me another chance?”

  She was silent for a moment, giving him hope, then said, “I don’t think so.”

  He ignored her response and continued his pitch. “Dinner? I—” He hesitated, then decided what the hell. May as well go full-on pathetic. “I received a job offer today, and I’m in the mood to celebrate. Maybe it’s crazy, but for some reason I want to celebrate with you.”

  She held his gaze, and he could see he’d gotten to her. Her hazel eyes clouded and her lips tightened as she considered his words. Finally, she said, “Congratulations on the job offer, I hope it’s a good fit and wish you the best of luck.” She walked past him toward the closed door.

  “Trina—”

  She stopped, her back ramrod straight. He stepped up behind her, took in her warm, sultry scent.

  “Thanks for the roses,” she said, then opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  TRINA WAS SHAKING by the time she reached her cubicle. What had she done? Was she a fool for walking away from him, or had she just dodged a bullet?

  All she knew was she felt nauseated. Like she’d made a huge mistake. But every time she thought about how he’d played her, she felt like such a fool. It was hard to let go of that. Hard to believe he wasn’t secretly laughing at her. That he wouldn’t mislead her again.

  And yet, dammit, he stirred something in her. Kissing him had been insanely amazing. She’d been wound so tight after that, she couldn’t sleep. And the way he’d followed her home, to ensure she was safe had been…wonderful, really.

  She picked up the report she’d been working on, but there was no way she could focus on edits right now. She reached over to place it on the blasted file cabinet and was so distracted it took her a moment to realize the cabinet wasn’t there. Finally.

  Maintenance could be drilling out the locks right now. Just the distraction she needed—to find out what was in the top-secret file cabinet she’d been forced to live with for two years. Mara was probably in the conservation lab with Cressida and the cabinet, and she needed to let her know she was done using her office.

  She found both women in the corridor, pushing the old reinforced beast down the hall on a hand truck. “Just wait. I bet it’s going to be full of old health manuals,” she said. “The ones they gave to sailors with warnings about VD.”

  Cressida snorted. “Just so long as it doesn’t contain peen syringes, or other ‘cures’ for the clap. I do not want to catalogue used syringes.”

  Trina opened the door for the lab, and Cressida pushed the truck through while Mara held it steady.

  “So, Trina, what happened with the SEAL?” Mara asked.

  “He apologized for last night. And he wants to go out to dinner to celebrate his new job offer.”

  “That must be the one for Raptor. Alec mentioned it yesterday. Curt’s going to have him vetted.” She grinned. “Too bad I can’t get that report for you. So where are you going to dinner?”

  “I turned him down.”

  Cressida pushed the hand truck upright, and the file cabinet slammed to the floor. “You what?” she asked. “The guy is seriously yummy, and he apologizes like a champ. Flowers and an office visit. You said last night he didn’t use any lame-ass qualifiers when he said he was sorry at the party. And he made sure you got home safely. Are you insane?”

  Trina frowned. “Possibly.”

  She didn’t even have to close her eyes to remember how he’d looked standing shirtless in his kitchen. Thick biceps on already broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, six-pack abs to die for. He had the body of an active-duty SEAL, the face of a model, and a vast library of books he organized using the Dewey decimal system.

  “Oh, shit! I’m really stupid, aren’t I?”

  She bolted for the stairs, heading up to the ground floor. It was too late. She knew it was too late. He was long gone. But she had to try. She darted out of the building and jogged down the road for the nearest parking lot. This was ridiculous. She didn’t even know if he’d driven to the Yard.

  She scanned the lot for his Land Cruiser. It wasn’t there.

  Dammit. Why the hell did she have to have so much pride?

  She returned to the building, to her cubicle. She didn’t have his phone number but could probably get it through Mara. Or she could e-mail him.

  She glanced at her watch. She was supposed to put in another hour today. She drummed her fingers on the desk.

  After her cold treatment of him, she had to do more than send him an e-mail. He’d probably think she was e-mailing him about the Somalia op and delete it unopened—if he hadn’t blocked her already.

  She’d go to his place. If he wasn’t home, she’d wait. She left Mara a voice mail, packed up her laptop and the report she’d been editing, and headed to the Metro. She could work on th
e train and while she waited in front of Keith’s town house.

  With every Metro stop, she reconsidered her decision.

  What the hell was she afraid of? That a great guy who turned her on to an insane degree might actually be interested in her? Or that he was far too good, too cool, too perfect, for a woman like her?

  Yeah, she had her insecurities. And it was time to let them go. Either they’d hit it off or they wouldn’t. But she had to give him a chance.

  By the time her train reached East Falls Church, she’d gotten a grip on her nerves. His town house was a quick walk from the station. Finally, at his door, she took a deep breath and rang the bell.

  A minute passed. Two. She knocked again. Her heart pounded in time to the passing seconds. Her resolve to wait for him to get home flailed. She’d leave. Get his number from Mara and call him.

  She turned just as the door opened and whirled to face him, her heart fluttering as she took in his unwelcoming expression. “What the hell, Trina? It’s not bad enough you handed me my ass at your office? You need to come to my home and kick me in the balls too? No, thanks.” He stepped back and slammed the door.

  The bang echoed in the quiet afternoon. Her face reddened. Okay, maybe this reaction was what she’d feared. But if he could grovel like a champ, so could she.

  She rang the bell again. And again.

  Finally, the door jerked open. “I will never answer your questions about Somalia. So unless you came over to watch me jack off, you need to leave.”

  She set her laptop bag in the doorway and grasped his shirt as she stepped up to bring them chest to chest. “I’m here to help you jack off.”

  His jaw settled into a firm line of distrust. “Are you for real? You seriously expect me to believe you changed your mind after the way you walked out at the Navy Yard?”

  Her heart pounded. She couldn’t believe she was being this forward, but dammit, she had nothing left to lose. “I don’t expect you to believe it,” she said, echoing his words from yesterday. “But it’s true.”