Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) (35 page)

The drunk driver who had hit Zoe when she was seven had left a legacy of scars. She walked with a permanent limp, because part of the calf muscle on her left leg was missing. Skin grafts had further scarred her body. But the makeup did a good job of covering the damaged areas’ reddish discoloration, giving her legs a clear, smooth look. They appeared normal except for the back of the left one.

“I thought I’d use the makeup to cover my legs for the wedding.”

The other women seemed to hold their breath while Hawk studied Zoe’s legs for a long, slow moment, then stood and reached for his wife. “You look beautiful.” He slipped his arms around her waist, and then lowered his lips to her shoulder. His voice was just a rumble as he whispered something in her ear. Zoe colored prettily. “I didn’t marry you for your legs. I married you for your perfect, heart-shaped ass,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

All the women in the room groaned.

Hawk laughed, then went serious. His expression transformed into a look so tender and passionate when he focused on Zoe, Tess had to look away.” And because I couldn’t imagine life without you.”

“Good save, Hawk,” Trish Marks said with a laugh, though her eyes glittered suspiciously, as did several of the other women’s.

The party started to break up.

Brett hooked a finger beneath the belt of Tess’s robe. “Have you got anything on under this, you want my opinion about?”

“No.”

His grin widened and her cheeks grew hot.

“I do have something on, but it’s for after the wedding. The others wanted to see it. But you don’t get to peek until after the ceremony.”

When he reached for the hem of her robe she smacked his hand. “Not until after the wedding.”

His smile did special things to her. His gaze swung to the display of sex toys on the table. “Is there anything over there you’re interested in?”

The heat in her cheeks climbed to scorch level. “No.”

“What about for when I’m deployed?”

She studied his face. “A piece of plastic can’t take your place, Brett.”

“I know.” He pulled her close. “But it could tide you over until I get home.”

How long would they have before he was deployed again, or went on another training? “No it can’t. It isn’t the same.” She lay her head against his shoulder. “I need the whole package.”

His lips homed in on the special place just below her ear that sent chills all the way to the bottoms of her feet.

“Not nearly as much as I need you, honey.”

‡

S
itting at her
desk, Tess rolled her head and felt the stiff pull and tug of the muscles stretching. She could use another massage. Since the bachelorette party she was overwhelmed with work. But she’d cemented the last of the wedding arrangements. All she had to do now was wait for the big event.

Family and friends would start to arrive in five days. She really wished she could put the Brittain Construction accident to bed and see Jonathan Frye arrested. What if she was on her honeymoon when it all went down? All the work she’d done would be passed on to another reporter to compile in a short article. Screw that. She’d write one based on her research, have Brittain call her if anything came through, and shoot it to Taylor from their honeymoon suite.

Brett came out of the bedroom. His shirt was open, baring a long strip of lightly furred chest and his sculpted abs. His pants were unbuttoned, but zipped so they hung on his lean hips. Every nerve in her body seemed to stand at attention. He rubbed his hand over his close-cropped dark blond hair. She was going to live with him, sleep with him, make love with him as often as she wanted. Well, whenever he was home. The idea made her get tingly in all her most intimate places.

“How did you sleep?” she asked to distract herself from the hormone rush.

“Like the dead. Staying up all night on an op and staying up fishing and drinking beer are definitely two different things.”

Tess grinned. “Beer and any kind of activity, other than eating, doesn’t mix well.”

Brett went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, then raised the pot, offering her one. Tess shook her head. She’d already had more than enough.

“Hawk is the poster boy for that observation. He’s a six-foot-four-inch badass SEAL operator until he gets about six beers in him, and then all he wants is to go to sleep. And he can’t play poker worth shit if he’s drinking.”

She laughed. “He didn’t lose the car or house in a poker game, did he?”

“No, just his shirt.”

“It sounds like you had a good time.”

Brett smiled. “Yeah, it was great!”

Tess laughed. He’d come in at 5:30 a.m., more than a little drunk, and now, after five hours of sleep and a shower, looked fresh as a daisy. How the hell did he do it?

He wandered into the living room and paused to press a kiss on the curve of her shoulder, triggering a shiver of response.

“We didn’t see a single mermaid the whole time we were out there, though at one point I think Doc was looking for one.”

“It almost makes me jealous that I wasn’t there to see it.”

He laughed and slumped back into the chair closest to the computer.

“Think you’d be up for a drive later?”

He groaned. “It’s Sunday, Tess.”

“And I have five days to put all the things I’m working on to bed before the wedding.”

Brett shot her a narrow-eyed look. “All right. But it depends on who we’re going to see.”

“I thought we’d visit Brian Gooding. I’d like to finish the story I was writing about the repercussions of drunk driving. While you were gone last night, I did a couple of phone interviews and some research.

Brett studied the coffee in his cup. “If you discover that your suspicions about him are true, what will you do?”

“He’s not going to admit to any wrongdoing. He has too much to lose.”

He tilted his head. “I didn’t think Hamilton would admit to being blackmailed, or that Brittain would be so open about the accident, either. I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

Had her father made any kind of sacrifice for her, like the sacrifices Brian Gooding had made, and still made every day, for his daughter? She couldn’t remember anything her father had done that she hadn’t paid dearly for. She hadn’t answered any of Ian’s calls since coming home from D.C. She didn’t know or care if he was coming to the wedding. All she knew was that he had hurt her for the last time. She was through playing second fiddle to him. She was going to concentrate on her career here and her life with Brett. To hell with Ian.

But despite her bravado, the ache still throbbed too deep to heal.

“I’m not going to push Gooding, Brett. I don’t think I want to know.”

Brett focused on her for a moment. “Okay.”

“But I am going to finish the article.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll fix us something for lunch and then we’ll drive over his apartment.”

“I could use some food. I’m a little hung over.”

She studied him more closely. His eyes were a little bloodshot, but other than that he looked fine. Good enough to jump. She just might do that later.

*

Brian Gooding had
aged since the employee picture Mary had sent her. His dark hair was more salt than pepper and thinning in front. He looked older than fifty, his square jaw already sagging. The small one-room apartment he invited them into was little more than an efficiency, and in a rough section of town. They had passed a sign for weekly or monthly rentals in the window of the office downstairs.

“This is Brett Weaver, my fiancé, Mr. Gooding. I hope you don’t mind if he sits in. If you do, he can step outside and wait for me.”

“I don’t mind. Come on in.” Gooding gestured them into the room. Plastic tubs of belongings were stacked against one wall.

“I read about the shooting in the parking garage,” Gooding said.

Tess raised a brow in surprise. Her name hadn’t been used in the article.

“It didn’t take much of a leap to put two and two together, Miss Kelly. I don’t have time for much else, but I do read the paper every day. The article said a reporter, but when your car blew up they identified you,” he explained. He frowned. “I hope they catch whoever is after you.”

Was Gooding toying with her, or was this a real show of empathy? She couldn’t put aside her instant suspicions, but murmured a thank you.

He pulled a chair out at the small kitchen table barely big enough for two. Tess took the seat and Brett the other, while Gooding dragged a chair over from beside the bed.

“Thank you for seeing me on Sunday.”

“It’s probably the only day you’d be able to catch me. I’m usually on one construction site or the other during the week.”

“Your wife said you worked for Chanter Construction as a project manager.”

“Yeah. I’ve been with the company twenty years now. Since just after Shelly and I got married.”

“Is it a good company to work for?” Tess asked.

“Yeah. It’s paid the bills, and my insurance is good. It covered Lisa’s surgeries and care until we got other medical coverage through the state.”

“What is it exactly that you do at Chanter?”

“Mostly I schedule material deliveries, equipment, and manpower when and where they’re needed.”

Did that mean he could have arranged for the cement deliveries at Brittain Construction?

“It’s mostly logistics. When I need plumbers at two sites, and only have one crew available, I have to figure out how long it will take them to complete the first job and what the rest of the workers can do until the crew can come in. Time is money, so you can’t have people standing around waiting.”

“I learned a little about concrete deliveries having to be timed so you can pour floors.”

“Yeah. Pouring the floors is a balancing act. It’s dangerous work, too, so you have to have skilled workers do it. I read your article about Brittain Development. That was a real tragedy. We’ve had a few close calls, too. So I can sympathize.”

“Recently?” she asked.

“No. Early last year.”

Tess nodded. “Was the company supportive after your accident?”

“Yeah. Mr. Frye even came by the hospital to see how we were doing.”

What a surprise. He certainly hadn’t seemed to care that much about Mary.

“Did you know Mary Stubben?”

Gooding’s expression turned solemn. “Yeah. Mary was a sweet lady. Her death was a big shock to everyone in the head office. I had dealings with her all the time. She was always on the ball with anything you needed done.”

Could he look so concerned if he’d had some part in Mary’s death? She glanced at Brett to see him studying Gooding with a frown.

Tess pulled out her notebook. “Is it okay if I take notes?”

“Sure.”

“Did your wife tell you what kind of article I’m doing?”

“Yeah. Sort of a life after a drunk driving tragedy type thing.”

Tess nodded. “How exactly has your life changed since the accident?”

He was quiet for a moment. “My wife and I divorced. It was my fault. I had all this rage inside me over what happened. It spilled out onto everything. Shelly couldn’t live with me, and I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t want to live with myself. You see, when Osborne swerved into our lane, I turned the wheel to avoid him. It should have been my side of the car he hit, not Lisa’s. Had I turned the wheel the other way, it would have been me. I wish it had been me.” He clenched his hands on the table, and looked away, his throat working.

“It was a split-second reaction, Mr. Gooding. It’s instinctive to turn away from something coming at you,” Brett said.

“I’ve told myself that again and again, but life would have been so different—” he shook his head. “It was easier for Shelly to let
me
go.” He pointed to himself. “When it’s your child, you just can’t.”

“The man responsible for Lisa’s condition committed suicide. Did that give you any kind of closure?”

“When I heard he was dead, for half a second I was satisfied. Then I was angry all over again. He took the coward’s way out. He should have had to live with what he’d done as long as we will. The only positive thing that came out of his passing is I no longer had a target for my anger. I just felt hollow inside, and I had to finally deal with my guilt. I started seeing a therapist about two months after his death. Something I probably should have done right after the accident.”