Her stomach roiled, and she squeezed her eyes tighter.
Do not throw up.
His truck was nice and tidy, and she could tell he took pride in keeping it that way, even though there was muck on the floor mats now from their trek through the marsh. Jeremy had lent her a flannel shirt, but Kira’s skin was still cold and clammy under her damp clothes, and the sensation wasn’t helping the nausea.
She kept picturing Shelly. One minute she’d been on the phone, and the next she was dead. Kira had caught a glimpse of her pale foot at the crime scene, and the realization had smacked her: Shelly was gone. Just like that. Just like Ollie. One second she’d been talking to Kira, and then she was dead.
Acid swirled in her stomach, and Kira clenched her teeth, trying not to think about it.
Another turn, right this time. Damn it, she’d lost track. But then Jeremy slowed and made a smooth turn into a driveway, and Kira opened her eyes to see the yellow light of her carport. It was empty. Gina wasn’t home, and Kira’s car was in the shop now.
Jeremy put the truck in park, and Kira reached for her door.
“Wait.”
She sighed as he got out and went around, but she was too tired to protest as he opened her door and accompanied her to the back step.
“I need to do a walk-through,” he said as she dug out her key.
“Sure.”
When they were inside, she tapped in the alarm code and kicked off her shoes, then peeled off her wet socks and dropped them on the floor. She went straight to the bedroom, where she stripped off her damp clothes and got a dry shirt out of a drawer. It was a faded gray Astros jersey, and the softness against her skin brought tears to her eyes.
She was losing it. That was the only explanation for why a ratty old sleep shirt could make her want to cry.
She heard Jeremy in the guest room fiddling with the window lock as she returned to the kitchen. Ollie’s fish was in a pitcher on the windowsill. She gave him a pinch of food and watched him dart around.
Kira felt more than heard Jeremy walk up behind her. He had a knack for stealth.
“Everything okay?” she asked, turning around.
“All good.”
“I’ll wash your shirt and get it back to you.”
He didn’t respond, just gazed down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. The kitchen was dark except for the light under the microwave, and she remembered the look on his face after he’d kissed her in his truck.
Kira’s stomach fluttered. She didn’t trust it, so she stepped to the sink and washed her hands.
“Sorry about earlier.” His voice was gruff.
“It was just a kiss.” She turned around. “Forget it.”
“I meant the op. Taking you down there.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have scoped it out first.”
“I wouldn’t call it an ‘op,’ really.” She felt annoyed now for no apparent reason. “Skulking around taking pictures? I do that all the time.”
So he wasn’t sorry about the kiss? Or he just wasn’t saying he was sorry? Her brain was too tired to analyze it.
She rubbed her forehead. “Why were they shooting at us?”
“Not they,” Jeremy said. “One guy with a pop gun, and he was well out of range.”
“A pop gun?”
“A twenty-two pistol.”
“You can tell that just from one sound?”
“I’ve spent a lot of years around a lot of weapons.” He paused, watching her. “Corporate security is a mixed bag. You get what you pay for. Some outfits are trained and disciplined. Some are just yahoos with guns. Some will take potshots at anything that moves, whether it’s an armadillo or a trespasser.”
“You think that was a potshot?”
“A warning shot. He was trying to scare us off.”
Jeremy sounded so sure. Not worried at all. Meanwhile, just thinking about it had Kira’s heart racing. She’d been on countless stakeouts—some boring, some not—and typically she relished a little excitement. But never had she been shot at during one.
Jeremy stepped closer, staring down at her in the dimness. He was a strong, solid presence. Her eyes dropped to the mean-looking gun in his holster, and she had no doubt he was well trained. She thought of how easily he’d put himself between her and a bullet. Why? Because he was a professional.
She looked up and tried to read his thoughts. Could he read hers? She wanted to pull him into her bedroom. She wanted to peel off his shirt and run her hands over his skin, and she wanted him to replace the disturbing images in her head with something better.
“Erik’s on his way over,” he said.
Erik.
“You’ve met him, correct?”
“Briefly, yesterday.” She stepped back. “But why? I thought you were on tonight.”
“I have to take care of something.”
Lights swept across the window, and Jeremy stepped over to look through the blinds. Kira watched him numbly. What the hell did he have to take care of at this time of night, after everything that had happened?
He reached for the door. “Get some sleep, Kira.”
Yeah, right. No problem. She’d sleep like a baby, just like the past three nights. The mere thought of the restless hours ahead of her made her eyes sting.
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Sure, okay.”
Jeremy left her standing there, still shocked and shaky and looking like she was going to puke. He didn’t want to leave. The desire to stay with her clawed at him, which was exactly why he needed to hightail it out of there.
Erik’s truck was parked on the street. He lowered his window as Jeremy approached.
“Thanks for this.”
Erik nodded. “How is she?”
“Rattled.”
“You think it’s connected?”
“Yes.” Jeremy glanced back at Kira’s house, then looked at Erik. His hair was mussed, and Jeremy knew he’d dragged him out of bed to come here, but it didn’t matter, because Jeremy would have done the same for him.
“GSW, point-blank range,” Jeremy said. “No one heard a gunshot, so they’re thinking he used a suppressor.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly. Cop said she had an unused tube of pepper spray in her hand, so sounds like an ambush. And the victim was working on something with Kovak right before his death, so that’s not good, either.”
“Liam wants to double up agents until the police know more,” Erik said.
“I won’t argue with that.”
“Where you going now?”
“Recon.”
“The ship channel?”
Jeremy nodded. He’d given Erik a brief update over the phone. “Should have done it earlier,” he added. Before letting Kira anywhere near the place.
What the fuck had he been thinking? Jeremy glanced at her house again, where the kitchen light was on now. He hoped she’d go to bed, but more likely she’d be up all night working, because she was too wired to sleep. Jeremy knew the feeling well.
Erik was watching him closely. Too closely. If Jeremy wasn’t careful, he was going to figure out that this client was getting to him.
Jeremy pulled out his keys. “You got this?”
Erik nodded. “Watch your step, man.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS a triple-digit day, with a neon-blue sky and wispy white clouds that gave no relief from the sun. Charlotte put on her Ray-Bans as she crossed the church parking lot. Heat shimmered up from the blacktop, and she didn’t envy Diaz in his dark suit. She slid behind the wheel of their car and got the AC going.