“My truck’s this way,” I explain when she gives me a confused look.
“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” she asks.
“You don’t.” I wink at her. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“Give me your ID card,” she says as she stops in her tracks and holds out her hand.
“What?” I ask. She’s surprised me. I’ve never had anyone ask me to prove who I am before.
“Give me your ID card,” she repeats, and I grab my wallet from my back pocket and flip it open. I slide my CAC—or common access card—from its slot and hand it to her. She pulls her cell phone from her slim purse and slides her finger across the screen, snapping a quick picture of my face and name on the front of my card before handing it back to me. I watch as her fingers fly over the face of the screen before locking it down and dropping it back in her bag. “Okay. We can go now.”
She grabs my hand again like nothing happened.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I sent your info to Hooter,” she says, cool as you please. “So if you kill me, he will know who to send the cops after.”
“That is terrifying,” I reply with wide eyes.
“Hey, us single ladies can’t be too careful,” she says.
“True enough,” I agree. The thought of something happening to my sister back in New Jersey tears through my gut. I wonder if she takes similar precautions.
I lead the way to my truck and pull the passenger door open for her. Her eyes flare; with what, I’m not sure yet, but I do know I’ve surprised her again. Hopefully in a good way.
“My place is on the beach,” she says quietly, like she’s suddenly shy with me. “And I… uhh… live alone.”
“Lead the way.”
And she does.
Chapter Four
MacKenzie
Sweaty palms
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. This isn’t me, but I also know without a doubt that this attraction isn’t something to ignore. Life has taught me to take risks, when to push the throttle and when to pull back, and there is something about this enigmatic man that has me ready to take a risk.
It’s just one night, after all. I can let go of my control for one night.
Besides, I texted a picture of his ID card to Hooter like a good little girl scout, so if my body washes ashore a week from now, he’ll know who to point the fingers at—one Kyle Garrett. Or more likely, if I don’t show up to the ready room Monday morning for the day's briefings, Cinco and Hooter will lose their minds.
I’m lucky to have them. It’s not easy being a woman in a man’s world. Fortunately, the men of this squadron are all pure class. Not one of them has treated me differently just because I have a pair of boobs. I know that’s not always the case, but these guys are special. We’re a team, a family, and I know I can trust everyone in this family to have my back, on mission or off. That’s just what we do.
I discreetly wipe my sweaty palms down the thighs of my jeans and tell Kyle, “Turn left here.”
He flips the signal and turns onto my street. Condos line the left side of the road, and the beach is to the right. I couldn’t believe my luck when this unit became available. I don’t know how long I’ll be with this squadron before Uncle Sam sends me on to my next station, but until then, I’m loving the peace the ocean brings me. Kind of funny for a girl from a small, landlocked town in Texas. I think I’ll hold on to this place if I can when I move on. I’ll rent it out if I have to, but I think I’d like to be able to come back here when I retire. There’s something about this one spot on the beach that makes me feel like I’m home.
“Street parking is hard to find,” I tell him. “You can park in my spot behind the building.” I direct him around back.
Each condo is a tall, skinny building attached to several more just like it in the row. Made up of cream and salmon stucco with terracotta tile roofs, the buildings stand three stories high with balconies off the master bedrooms at the top and glass sided decks off the second and first floors. It’s a beautiful design. A little beachy and a little modern all rolled into one. It’s very San Diego.
He pulls into the space next to my garage and shuts off the truck. The air crackles between us like a live wire when he turns to me. His hazel eyes flash golden, but I can tell he’s banking all of that intensity in case I want to back out. That small show of care tells me everything I need to know—at least for now. Kyle Garrett is not a man to dismiss. He’s powerful and sexy, sure, but I get the feeling that he’s also kind. It’s an unexpected surprise. One I really like uncovering.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the truck. I pull my keys from my purse and let us in through the door off the kitchen, just past a small stucco and terracotta tile outdoor shower at the back of the house.
I toss my keys and purse on the small island in the kitchen before turning back to him. “Well, this is it.”
