"That's the only reason I'm not chewing your ass for thinking I'm idiot enough not to have considered the possibility someone may have tampered with her balcony. There're plenty of reasons somebody may have been angry enough to whack Owens over the head. His gambling habit. Or maybe Nikki Price had a jealous ex-boyfriend who didn't much like her getting busy with another guy."
An understandable possibility since thinking about Nikki dating other guys tossed acid onto his already burning raw gut even though he had no claim to her. He kept his hands loose, his face impassive. He'd mastered the blasé look with his new command duties.
Funny thing, though, Reis was giving him exactly the same blank expression. The investigator's words about ex-boyfriends being to blame shifted in Carson's head, settling into place a second before Reis leaned forward, elbows on his desk.
"So I guess you won't be surprised to hear you're on my suspect list, as well, Major."
How damned ironic that in spite of years of working to hide his attraction to Nikki, the agent had pegged it so fast.
If he was doing such a piss-poor job of keeping his emotions under wraps, then maybe it was time to confront this dogged attraction head-on with Nikki after all.
* * *
Nikki jogged alongside her brother, her running shoes pounding pavement with dogged determination. She shot puffy clouds of air ahead then plowed through the vapor. Too bad her cloudy memories weren't as easily dispersed.
Thank goodness Chris didn't want to talk because she had too much energy to work out. Instead, she kept her Walkman headset in place, hoping exhaustion and WWII era tunes— The Andrews sisters at present—would soothe her frustration over having her life hijacked.
She missed her apartment and independence. However as much as she wanted to return to her place and simply invest in a kick-ass security system, she couldn't forget her mother's strained face and difficult pregnancy. Her father was due home in another week. She could put her own needs on hold for a few more days.
Cars chugged past in the sleepy neighborhood, some turning around and taking detours for ongoing road construction, but she felt safe enough in the late afternoon with her brother alongside. Even Carson couldn't expect her to hole up inside indefinitely.
One foot in front of the other, she willed the runner's high to overtake her so she could block out the resurrected yearning to be with Carson, a light harmonic melody pulsing through her ears and thrumming in her veins. A swelling, sentimental ache she'd finally acknowledged the night she decided to break things off with Gary...
Nikki thudded along the planked boardwalk stretching toward Beachcombers Bar and Grill. Flight-jacket-clad bodies with dates packed the back porch, twice as many undoubtedly inside if the dull war was anything to gauge by. Finding Gary could take hours in this wash of brown leather and jeans. Better to park her butt at the bar and wait for him to find her.
A marshy breeze blew in off the beach, cold, but not enough to drive the congregated smokers back inside. She charged closer while sailboats bobbed along the nearby marina, lines snapping and pinging against masts in a mariner's tune.
But she wouldn't be lured by that song of Carson anymore. Tonight would be her fresh start. No more self-destructive dating losers who happened to resemble Carson.
One of the first things on her agenda, stop coming to a watering hole populated with flyboys from nearby Charleston Air Force Base. Climbing the steps up to the hangout housed in a historic clapboard two story, she pushed the rest of the way through, smiling and nodding at familiar faces she barely registered. Same old crowd, even on a Sunday evening.
The bass from the band pulsed through the ground, beach music blending with old rock tunes from her parents' day that had round-robined back into modern remakes. She sucked in a bracing breath, prepping herself for the upcoming confrontation. Gary had been a little possessive in the past when guys hit on her, but not violent. Still just in case, she 'd chosen a public meeting place.
She parted a circle playing quarters. "Pardon me. 'Scuse me." She ducked around an overendowed regular wearing Lycra and no coat in January. "Excuse me, Hannah."
Finally. The door.
Nikki dodged another couple between her and her destination—and slammed into a solid body. Her senses announced his identity before she even looked up.
Carson, full of musky scent mixed with fresh ocean air, unmistakably him. She forced her gaze upward and her feet to stomp backward when she wanted to stay smack-dab where she was and just breathe for a few minutes—or days.
"Hi, Scorch."
She refused to duck and run. She had nothing to be ashamed of. He was the one who'd been a total jerk and if speaking with her made him a smidge uncomfortable, then too damn bad.
He hitched a foot on the step back into the main bar, shoulder on the door frame, a white paper sack clutched in his hand. "Hey, have you spoken with your father recently?"
And wasn't that just like him to bring up her dad every time they spoke? Thinking Carson stayed away because of her father stung a little less, since at least he had a reason—albeit a really stupid one. However if he'd simply been a user-jerk, then getting over him would be easier.
A lose-lose situation for her.
"Phone calls have been scarce, but the Internet has been awesome. He talks more through e-mail than he would over the phone anyhow."
"That's your dad."
"Are you meeting someone here?" Ah hell.
"No, just grabbing carry out on my way to a meeting." He lifted his hand gripping the paper sack. "Nothing like Claire's Southern barbecue wings after a day of sailing."