Always Faithful Page 6

  He forced a smile and knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been managing, Emma.”

  “Sounds almost routine,” she told him.

  She’d nailed it on that one. That was exactly what his life had become—a constant struggle up the ladder. Success was all he cared about. All other emotions were shoved away. The hell of it was, now that he had seen Rowan again, they were rushing back at him with the force of a cannon ball.

  “Tell me everything.”

  He rubbed his nose and attempted to hide a smile. “That might take a while.”

  “I have all night.”

  She always did have the time for someone in need of a confidante.

  They were still talking when Rowan returned. Without thinking, he let his gaze wander over what the standard Marine camouflage uniform had concealed.

  Her cotton tank top clung to her curves, outlining in perfect detail the swell of her breasts—which, to his disappointment, were covered with a bra. Then there were her legs—long, delicately tan, slightly freckled and exposed. Always athletic, her muscles were leaner, more defined—sleek, not bulky. He imagined her running by his side, her pace perfectly matched with his.

  He forced his attention to her face. That was also a mistake. Out of old habit, he reached out and brushed an errant strand of her still-damp hair back into place.

  Rowan jerked back as if electrically shocked. Her lips opened, unconsciously beckoning. The temptation was enough to kill him.

  “Come on, you two.” Emma steered them toward the stairwell. “I’m starving.”

  So was he—and not for food.

  * * * *

  Rowan couldn’t eat to save her life. On the patio at the little restaurant she sipped a Diet Coke and toyed with a slice of pepperoni pizza while the two of them chattered away.

  The headache she’d hoped was gone had returned with a vengeance. Anxiety churned her stomach. What if Mom slips up and mentions Ian? She never could keep a secret, and this was a whopper. The two of them tossed words between them like tennis players volleying balls over a net. Their sudden silence jolted Rowan back into awareness.

  She looked up to find them staring at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something to me? My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Your mom wanted to know if you cared to tell her any more of what was going on,” Phillip said.

  Not really. But she’s going to find out soon enough anyway. In hushed tones, Rowan explained everything.

  Phillip turned attorney once more. She could see that in the concentrated lines on his face and the piercing gleam of his shrewd eyes. She wondered if this had been planned. He would think her relaxed and off-guard. Wrong. She was tenser than ever. Her mind went blank as she stumbled over her words. With each fumble, Phillip interjected a comment or question, turning each sentence inside out. By the time she was done, Rowan was physically and emotionally drained.

  Mom squeezed her hand. “Always have to stick your nose in where it—”

  “Emma, please don’t.”

  Phillip’s voice was soft but the tone brooked no argument. Rowan appreciated his consideration.

  “We’ve already been through that. Rowan, you’re going to have to do better with your story. If you can’t tell your mother without faltering, how do you expect to tell the court?”

  So much for his consideration. “Why do I feel like you set me up?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Not setup. I saw an opportunity and took it. You need to use every practical opportunity to rehearse your story. If you think I’m bad, wait until the prosecution has a go at you. If she even suspects a hint of weakness, she’ll exploit it.”

  “You must be hell on wheels in the courtroom, Phillip Stuart.”

  A smile lit his features. “Isn’t that why you asked for me?”

  With a nod, she conceded the point.

  The ride back to her room was quiet. Rowan expected Phillip and her mother to drop her off and go. Instead, he came with her and waved her mother on.

  “Thanks, Emma. I’ll walk from here. I want to see Rowan to her room and talk to her a bit more about the case.”

  Mom smiled and reached out of the window to grasp his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. We need you, more so than you might realize.”

  Phillip leaned down and kissed her cheek in response.

  Rowan waited until her mother drove out of the parking lot. “I think I can find my way from here.”

  “Indulge me, will you?” He motioned to the stairs, then followed her.

  Rowan fumbled for her keys as they approached the door. If she could just get inside… Being alone with Phillip made her feel dangerous things. Every instinct drew her unerringly toward him and her fingertips tingled with the urge to caress the angular planes of his face.

  Phillip slipped the keys from her fingers and opened the door for her, shoving it wide. “Are you going to be—?”

  Glass exploded behind them, cutting off his words.

  Phillip grabbed her and dived into the room, covering her body with his. Bullets sprayed overhead. A lamp shattered. The wall locker splintered.

  She clung to him, lips sealed tight against the urge to scream.

  Doors slammed and footsteps pounded on the landing. The shooting stopped. He rose to his knees and wrapped her shaking body to his.

  “It’s okay, Rowan. It’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded against his chest.

  Thunder cracked overhead. In the last hour, the storm had moved over them—an appropriate metaphor. It was nothing compared to the turmoil surrounding her. Someone was trying to kill her. This time, there sure as hell could be no doubt.

  Chapter Six

  Phillip drummed his fingers against the doorframe. Military police and agents from both the Criminal Investigative Division and Naval Criminal Investigative Service were crawling all over the barracks. None of them had been able to turn up a clue.

  He would have accused them of not looking had it not been for the efficiency of the lean civilian agent in charge. Jess Alderman snapped the lackadaisical troops into action, shooting off orders with the rapid-fire action of a machine gun. His thatch of silver-white hair stood out among the short military haircuts, an easy target for Phillip to concentrate on while he waited with mounting impatience.

  He followed Alderman’s every move, as if by doing so he could direct the investigation. Although Phillip felt satisfied the man was doing all he could, there were still other matters that nagged at him.

  Alderman shot out a few more orders then returned to the room where Phillip stood guard over Rowan. The news was grim. That was apparent from the stern set of his mouth and the splintered toothpick that jutted from between clenched teeth.

  Good, at least someone else is unhappy.

  “How’s she doing?” Alderman’s voice was a gravelly rumble that matched his weathered face.

  How do you think she’s doing? “She’s managing quite well for someone who’s just been shot at.” Phillip’s voice dripped sarcasm. He didn’t care.

  Alderman tucked a small spiral note pad into his shirt pocket. “It looks like the shooter was positioned on the roof of the bowling alley.”

  Phillip glanced in that direction. Wherever someone stood, they would have a clear shot at Rowan’s third floor barracks room.

  “No one saw much. Marines were either inside taking shelter from the approaching storm or outside watching it. Whoever it was, he was careful not to leave any evidence behind.”

  “Especially since he had so much time to clean up after himself.”

  Alderman remained quiet for a few seconds as if carefully considering his next words. Phillip got the impression this was common for him. It would have to be in his line of work.

  “All I can do is apologize for the delay, Captain Stuart. It will be reported to the Provost Marshal. As I explained, for some unknown reason, at the same time Staff Sergeant McKinley was being shot at, the alarms went off at the armory. All of PMO’s attention was f
ocused on the resulting base shut-down.”

  “It was thirty minutes, Mr. Alderman. Thirty minutes.”

  Alderman’s eyes narrowed. “If you would like to make a formal complaint, I can arrange for you to do so.”

  “What would be the point? Under the circumstances, I’m beginning to think that no one would care and nothing would be done.”

  He set his jaw. “I assure you that this will be investigated as thoroughly as any other incident on this base.”

  Phillip snorted. “Then we’re all in big trouble”—he jerked his thumb toward Rowan, who sat behind him on the remains of a chair, clutching a Styrofoam cup of water—“unless you intend to hire Staff Sergeant McKinley to help you with the investigation. Seems to me she’s done more to uncover information around here than anyone else. Of course, no one has bothered to give an ounce of credence to anything she’s said. Now someone’s trying to shut her up permanently.”

  Alderman glanced over Phillip’s shoulder at Rowan. Phillip dared the man to say something derogatory about her, anything to give him an excuse to lose his temper.

  “I’m not that familiar with her situation,” he finally said. “Malcolm Collins is the agent in charge of that case. I’m sure you’d like to read his report as soon as possible. Come by my office in the morning. Malcolm should be there and we can talk. In the meantime, we can place Staff Sergeant McKinley in protective custody—”

  “Lock her up?” Tamping down his irritation, Phillip took a deep breath. “Until I know who I can trust, I trust no one. Staff Sergeant McKinley’s safety and welfare will be my personal concern.”

  Again Alderman’s gaze drifted to Rowan, then back. He flicked the remains of his toothpick over the edge of the balcony. “I’ll be glad to provide an escort for you.”

  “That would certainly make it convenient for us to be located later.” A stupid thing to say. On a base this size, it would be child’s play to find them.

  “If I didn’t know better, Captain, I’d say you were accusing an MP of this attempt on her life.”

  Phillip didn’t know whether to laugh or shout. Is Alderman really that dense? “What else is there to think? Military policemen on this base think she murdered their coworker. An attempt is made on her life at the same time the armory alarms go off. The MPs take their sweet time getting here. Coincidence? I call it conspiracy. I think it’s about time that someone besides Staff Sergeant McKinley had the balls to check it out.”

  He turned to Rowan. “Grab your bag. We’re leaving.”

  Easy to ask, hard to do. As long as she sat in this one spot and concentrated on the cup clutched between her hands, Rowan could control the body-shaking tremors that engulfed her. But to stand, much less move? He might as well have asked for the moon, but somehow through sheer force of will she rose.

  He held out his hand. “Give me your keys. I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive.”

  Drive? Rowan stiffened in panic. Her van was a little boy’s haven. Matchbox cars, action figures, travel games and an Etch a Sketch were tucked into the nooks for easy access in any traveling situation. For Ian, that could be anything from a trip to the store to a trip across country.

  “Can’t we walk?” she asked without thinking.

  Phillip’s brows shot up. “With some madman out there shooting at you?” He pulled Rowan to her feet and walked her toward the stairwell.

  “But I’m almost out of gas.” The excuse was so feeble it didn’t even elicit a response.

  “Keys.” He thrust out his hand, palm up.

  Rowan fumbled through her purse but her fingers were shaking too badly to be of much use. She was aware of Phillip looming over her.

  “Want me to look?”

  Her fingers closed around the key ring. “I have them.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” He started down the stairwell.

  Drifting in his wake, mind a-whirl, Rowan knew she had to stop him. She grabbed Phillip’s arm before they reached the foot of the stairs and gasped, “My uniforms and clothes. They’re in the room. Could you run back and get them? I’ll meet you at my van.”

  Exasperation swept over him. “You wait right here. Don’t go anywhere.”

  The instant he disappeared up the stairs, Rowan sprinted for the parking lot, not caring how many heads turned her way. A glance over her shoulder confirmed he was still occupied. After throwing open the side door of the Caravan, she crawled inside.

  It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought—mostly because she had asked Ian to clean his things out before he’d left for his Scout trip. Still, she might as well have had one of those little yellow signs that blared ‘Child On Board’.

  Grabbing the blanket that she kept tucked away for emergencies, Rowan piled every scrap of childhood evidence into the center and shoved the incriminating bundle under the last seat.

  “Lose something?”

  At the sound of Jess Alderman’s roughened voice, Rowan jerked around.

  “I don’t suppose you would consider a consensual search of the vehicle.” He chewed slowly on a fresh toothpick and eyed her thoughtfully.

  “There’s nothing to search for, Mr. Alderman.”

  He glanced to the backseat. “Then what’s the rush?”

  “A little housekeeping, that’s all. I wouldn’t want my defense counsel to get a bad impression of me.” Rowan tilted her chin, daring him to challenge her excuse.

  He grinned. “No, you certainly don’t want that. From what I hear, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

  After a mock salute, he walked away, but not soon enough for Rowan to get back to the building without being detected. She caught Phillip’s thunderous approach from the corner of her eye and refused to look his way. Instead, she opened the van’s front door and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “I see you still don’t listen worth a damn.” Phillip heaved her bag into the van then slid the side door closed with a sharp tug.

  Even though she was expecting the noise, Rowan jumped when the door slammed. He wrenched open the passenger door and paused.

  “I was feeling closed in and needed to get out of there.” Anxiety made her voice tight and high. Please don’t let him look under the seat.

  “Hmm.”

  A noncommittal response. He was distracted by something near the passenger’s side door. What was he staring at? A toy? Ian’s shoe? What?

  “Would you like me to drive?” he mumbled.

  Anything to divert attention away from the incriminating bundle under the back bench. Rowan relinquished the wheel and scooted over to the other seat. She busied herself by fastening her seat belt then realized Phillip still hadn’t moved.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His frown deepened. “You have a melted crayon stuck against the side of the seat.”

  Damn it, Ian. How many times have I told you? “I was baby-sitting for my friend Ellen over the weekend. One of her kids must have left it.”

  “Hmm.”

  Another nonresponse. What was he thinking? Had he guessed? She should tell him now and get it over with.

  “Phillip, I—”

  He held up his hand for silence. “Please, just give me the keys.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, she dropped the key ring into his open palm.

  Neither of them uttered a word during the short drive. Even when she realized that their destination was his room, Rowan kept her mouth shut. He knew as well as she did that female visitors were prohibited. Surely he wouldn’t jeopardize their already precarious situation by adding an infraction of the rules, but that looked exactly like what he intended to do.

  She must have made some noise of protest because he faced her after he’d shut off the engine.

  “There’s not much choice for your accommodations tonight unless you want to go back to the detention cell. Although judging from your current popularity, that might not be a bad idea. At least it’s under security watch.”

  Before she could defend herself, he cont
inued, “Your stubbornness got you into this mess, Rowan. You need to stop trying to be so damned independent. If you’re going to pull more foolish stunts like wandering around by yourself, please let me know so I can get out of the line of fire. You may have a death wish, but I certainly don’t.”

  She hiked her chin up a notch. “I don’t have a death wish, Phillip.”

  “Good. Then let’s call it a night. It’s been a hell of a day and I strongly suspect tomorrow won’t be any better.”

  Rowan wanted to rail against his condescending tone. The smug jerk. Who does he think he’s fooling? If their situations were reversed, if it were he who had suspected foul play, gung-ho Phillip would have done the same things she had. At least the old Phillip would have.

  Weariness seeped into her bones as she followed him to the room. No one challenged her presence. In fact, they didn’t pass a soul. By the time he ushered her inside, it was all she could do to put one foot before the other.

  After a passing glance at the ugly artwork on the wall, she collapsed onto the tiny sofa and tucked her arm under her head for a pillow.

  “You can’t sleep there,” she heard Phillip mutter. “You need to get some sleep and it’s too small. Move to the bed. I’ll catch a few minutes of rest on the couch.”

  She was conscious of making some sound of acknowledgment or maybe she nodded, but the effort to move seemed too much for now.

  Phillip grabbed his duffel bag and ducked into the adjoining bathroom, the only private area left—the only place where he could let down his defenses for a few minutes.

  He clutched the edge of the sink to stop his hands from shaking. Deep breathing and splashing cold water on his face helped to revive his senses. A cold shower would have done more, but Phillip was afraid the running water would mask any noise of an intruder. He had to remain alert. Two life-threatening incidents in less than twelve hours… He could almost feel his hair turning gray.