That was a flat-out lie. No one could handle Colt Wesson, least of all her. God knew she’d tried.
But Scott chose not to call her on it—at least right now. “What did you think? Was there anything to Morrison’s gambling?”
“I’m not sure. Colt did his job and made the rearadmiral furious, but so far Morrison hasn’t made any calls or logged into his computer.”
She could practically hear Scott frowning. “That’s odd—even for someone who isn’t guilty.”
Kate agreed. But she’d double-checked her equipment and programs, and everything seemed to be in order.
“Something else came up,” Scott said. “I was hoping you could run it down for me and see what you can find out. It’s about Blake’s sister—the reporter who is causing a lot of problems. She apparently has a source high up in the DoD.”
Scott passed on what John Donovan had told him, and Kate agreed to see what she could find out.
“You know how to reach me,” he said, and then paused. “Are you sure you are okay?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. “Really. You worry too much.”
“It comes with the job, Katie. And when it’s about Wesson, I worry a lot. I know what he’s capable of.”
“Well, he’s not going to be happy with either of us when he finds out the truth.”
“What else is new?”
They both laughed, but it wasn’t really funny. It was true.
She hung up and finished getting ready. When the doorbell rang at a quarter to five, she assumed it was her driver—which was why she was totally unprepared to see Colt standing there.
She gasped, and just for a moment she forgot how much she hated him. Her heart lurched the way it had always done when he’d shown up unexpectedly on her doorstep. It was always right about that time that she’d convinced herself she could do fine without him.
He took in her formfitting, slightly sexy gown with a long, cool look. “Sorry to interrupt, but this won’t take long. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“You should have called first.”
“I did. You didn’t answer. I left a message.”
She pulled out her phone from her evening bag and saw the voice-mail indicator. He must have called when she was in the shower or on the phone with Scott.
“You could have waited for me to call you back.”
“I wasn’t sure you would, and like I said, it’s important.”
She waved him into the vestibule and closed the door. “Say what you want. There is no one else here.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Morrison was found at his desk this morning with a bullet through his head. Looks like the rear admiral killed himself.”
Fifteen
Brittany’s resolve to get some work done lasted through breakfast. She was lured away by a boat ride. An exhilarating, wild, open-it-up-full-throttle RIB boat ride to be specific.
But admittedly, after what had happened last night, it wouldn’t have taken much to tempt her. Though John seemed to have no recollection of what had occurred, she remembered every minute. He’d turned to her and revealed a part of himself, even if he didn’t realize it.
She was worried about him, but her attempts to broach the subject with him at breakfast had been brushed aside. When she’d mentioned his restlessness, he’d said he’d had a nightmare. Everyone had them. “It’s no big deal.”
She might have believed him if she hadn’t felt the tension in him last night so viscerally. That had been no ordinary nightmare.
Once they boarded the boat, there wasn’t much opportunity for talking. She was holding on for her life, trying to not fly out of her seat as they slammed over the waves, laughing until the tears blended into the dampnessof the sea spray on her face. She was glad for the dry suits the boat company had given them—she would have been soaked without one. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail, but it was still flying all over.
But the tangles were worth it. The scenery was take-your-breath-away stunning.
