“Maybe someone wanted to know when you arrive at work,” he said in a low voice. “Although they could’ve just watched your office if they were trying to see what time you got in. And nothing else happened?”
“Not really. No. Wait. I did see a couple walking back and forth past my office window this afternoon. They went by at least four times. I looked outside before I left to make sure they weren’t still around.”
“Jesus, Butterfly. You should’ve left me a message or something.”
She shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see her. “You were busy. And it’s not like they stayed outside my door waiting for me. I can’t bother you every time I get spooked. It was probably nothing.”
“What else spooked you?” he asked.
“Nothing. Some guy almost ran into me on the sidewalk. Again, it was nothing. It was right before the storm started, and people were rushing around.”
“I don’t know when we’ll get sent out, but I want you to promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Of course I will be,” she assured him. “Believe it or not, my life is usually pretty boring—the whole yacht incident notwithstanding. My only occupational hazards are typical bridezillas or drunk people at parties. Armed gunmen aren’t normally part of my repertoire.”
“It’s not a joke,” Troy ground out.
“I know it’s not,” she said, growing exasperated. “I run events all the time though. I can’t call you every time there’s some little hiccup. Someone probably had the wrong number this morning and kept getting my voicemail.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just worry about you. I want you to be safe. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you are. I hate that you were involved in any of this. Seeing you so scared on that boat was gut-wrenching.”
“I know. It’s been a long day. I’m just tired, too. I’ll be happy when this entire situation blows over and I don’t feel so on-edge all the time.”
Troy cursed quietly into the phone. “What were you up to before I called?”
“Just relaxing on my sofa reading.”
“Not walking around in sexy lingerie?”
She burst out laughing. “No, is that what you were imagining? Sorry to disappoint. I changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. But maybe—just maybe—if you’re good, I’ll pull out the sexy lingerie next time you come over.”
“Is thirty minutes too soon?” he joked.
“Yes, it’s too soon. It’s late, and I think we both need a good night’s sleep tonight. Not that I minded you keeping me up for hours yesterday.”
He chuckled. “You’re still coming to my place Friday for dinner, right?”
“Absolutely. I mean, unless you’ve got a mission or something.”
He blew out a sigh. “There’s a chance I will. Our commander didn’t give us a timeline for when we’d fly out. But if I’m here, then absolutely I want you to come over. You’ll stay, right?”
“At your place?”
“Yes. I love the idea of you spending the night here—in my bed.”
“That’s kind of caveman-ish, isn’t it?” she asked with a laugh.
“I don’t care. I want you in my space, Butterfly, caveman-ish or not. There’s nothing I want more than you naked, beneath my sheets.”
“Hmmm. I think that could be arranged.”
Troy growled on the other end of the line, and she laughed. They talked for twenty more minutes or so but then said goodnight. Troy hadn’t even grabbed dinner yet, and she was tired, too. Friday was only a couple more days away, and she couldn’t wait to see him.
Chapter 18
Troy ran a hand through his short-cropped hair Friday night, thankful he’d been able to get ready quickly before Caitlyn arrived. After a long day full of briefings and discussions on how to proceed on their next op, he was wiped.
And then there was the entire blackmailing incident.
The photos of the admiral’s daughter had been posted online early this morning, and that had been a shitstorm in and of itself. Their office had been swarming with investigators, NCIS agents, and even PR people who’d been brought in.
No more codes had been shared with the perpetrators—fake or otherwise. The blackmailers had grown tired of waiting for Admiral Rice to give them the information they wanted and had simply blasted multiple sites with the illicit photographs.
It seemed like it had never really been about the nuclear codes after all. Any village idiot would realize that if they obtained Top Secret military codes like the ones to the nuclear warheads, they’d be quickly changed for security reasons. They’d just needed a reason to rile up the admiral. It was looking more and more like a disgruntled sailor—active duty or otherwise—who’d worked with a domestic terror group. An everyday civilian wouldn’t have access to his home address or family’s names, but this person had known everything. And after the gunmen’s bodies had been ID’d, it was clear they were part of an extremist group. The sailor had a grudge and wanted revenge. The group wanted access to the admiral. Like Troy had thought all along—what a clusterfuck.
Troy shaved in his bathroom, then tossed his razor down and walked into the master bedroom. He grabbed a fresh pair of shorts and a tee shirt and dressed.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he glanced down, frowning.
I’m on my way but won’t get there until seven.
I was looking at hotel conference rooms all afternoon and need to get my things before coming over.
He’d rushed home from base to get ready, and now Caitlyn was running late. He was excited as hell to see her, but damn. A little notice would’ve been nice.
He stalked down the hall to his kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. He’d season the steaks and then chill them. There wasn’t any point
