A Question of Honor (6 page)

“Did you know he was hooked on drugs?”

Cordeman studied him harshly. “At the time, no. And if I had, I’d have hauled him off duty, taken his badge and sent him into rehabilitation. Kit kept that knowledge to herself and tried to help him, but she failed. What she did was wrong. She should have come to me. But she was too young and too loyal to Pete.”

“So you found out after he died?”

“Yeah. I went over to the hospital and that’s where she spilled the whole ugly story.” He shook his head. “They had a special relationship, Trayhern. It wasn’t love, but it was a commitment to each other to be the best at what they did. They were one hell of a team. Ever since Kit lost him, she’s been sliding.”

“So after Collins’s death you sent her right back out there?”

Cordeman glared at him. “What else could I do?”

“You could have gotten her some therapy, for God’s sake!” Noah spit out. “Emotionally, she was
never
cut out for narc duty, but she was trying to please her father, Collins and you.” Noah grimaced, fury racing through him. “Kit Anderson shouldn’t have been a cop. She hasn’t got what it takes to deal with the brutality of it all. You’ve used up her strength, her spirit and her will to live. Right now, she’s close to an emotional breakdown.”

“So what the hell do you want me to do about it?”

“You side with me against IOIC and get Kit three more weeks of recuperation time before we initiate Storm.”

“Three weeks?” he cried. “You’re out of your mind!”

“Three weeks,” Noah ground out, “or she’ll be dead on this bust and we both know that.” He rested his hands against the desk, hovering over the narc supervisor. “And I’m not going to allow that to happen, Cordeman. You hear me? Either you side with me, or I’ll throw so many wrenches into this operation that you’ll scream like a stuck hog. I know your captain is going up for promotion soon. And I suspect he’s counting on Storm to make him look like a regular tin god in front of the good city fathers. I carry weight over at the CG. I’ll screw your department so damn hard that your captain will bury you so deep you’ll never see the light of day.”

Cordeman’s eyes grew round. “Do you know how hard it is to get something like that approved? The paperwork alone will weigh ten pounds!”

“I refuse to knowingly put one of my people’s lives on the line. Kit is part of my team, Cordeman. Side with me or else. Her life is more important than any drug bust or captain’s promotion.”

Cordeman continued to glower at Noah, but his tone admitted defeat. “You’ve got balls, Trayhern.”

“See that Kit gets those three weeks,” Noah repeated grimly.

“If it will make you feel any better, I tried to get Kit off this assignment.”

Noah was sure his eyes indicated his distrust. He had worked with Cordeman from a distance on several occasions in the past. He knew the man’s reputation for integrity and an unwavering attitude toward drug smugglers. Cordeman also ran one of the toughest narc divisions in the country. He was good at his job and had a decided talent for getting the best out of the people who worked under him. Maybe a little too good, Noah decided. Kit had returned to work instead of taking time off to adjust to the death of her partner. “Just how hard did you try?”

Cordeman motioned him toward the chair. “Sit down,” he growled, his blue eyes narrow. “You’re gonna find out, Trayhern, that I do take a great deal of interest in my people.” He paused as Noah sat. “I had plans to force Kit to take a leave of absence from the department before Operation Storm was created by DEA. I knew she was hurting, and I tried a number of times to persuade her to talk about it. But she wouldn’t. She kept insisting she was all right. About six months ago, she began to make mistakes. It was little things, but she realized as well as any of us that in this business details can get you killed. Finally she came and asked me for a transfer out of the department.”

Noah frowned. “Out of narc completely?”

“Yeah. Kit admitted to me that she’d had it. She wanted a desk job—anything to get her off the streets. I promised her I’d do my damnedest.”

“With her record of commendations, it should have been easy,” Noah pointed out tightly.

Cordeman met his glare. “I went straight to the captain with it. I told him she was at the end of the line emotionally and needed the rest. That was when he told me about Storm.” He shook his head sadly. “You know how important Kit is to the success of this operation. If we can get Garcia out of the picture, the Colombian government will cooperate with us in prosecuting him. Garcia’s smart—he stays out of the limelight. Anybody trying to take a photo of him can kiss his life goodbye.”

Noah rubbed his jaw. “So what kind of deal did you wrangle for her?”

“A lateral transfer to your ship as a liaison observer.”

“And after that?”

“After Storm’s completed, Kit gets her wish. She gets a cushy desk job as a detective in homicide upstairs.”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you, Cordeman. And maybe I haven’t.”

The supervisor sank wearily back into his frayed leather chair. He mopped his brow with a limp white handkerchief. “I’ll get Kit those three weeks. Somehow.”

Rising, Noah muttered, “Call me as soon as it’s official.”

Chapter Four

N
oah had barely gotten back to headquarters to finish up some paperwork, when Cordeman called. Sitting down at his desk, he took the call.

“Coast Guard. Lieutenant Trayhern speaking.”

“This is Cordeman. I’ve got some bad news for Kit.”

Automatically Noah placed a clamp on his emotions. “What’s wrong?”

“Plenty. Emilio Dante was just released from prison. Kit was the one who put him away, Trayhern. And he swore that when he got out he’d settle the score with her. Well, he’s out, and our snitch just told one of my undercover officers that he’s planning to go after her.”

Cold fear washed through Noah. “How in hell did that happen? Dante was supposed to be put away for fifteen years.”

“His lawyers got him out on bail due to a technicality. There will be another trial. Until then, he’s walking around free and vowing revenge. With him out, Operation Storm takes on new importance.”

“That’s the least of our problems,” Noah shot back, irritated. His mind whirled with options on how to protect Kit. She’d have to go into hiding. She was a sitting duck at her home. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of Kit in danger.

“Listen closely, Trayhern. There’s not much time. The captain, DEA and IOIC have decided Kit has to go underground. We don’t have the manpower to provide her twenty-four-hour protection. She’s going to have to disappear completely.”

“Of course.”

Cordeman’s voice grew aggravated. “You still don’t get it, do you? Kit’s your responsibility now. I just talked with your commander, and we’re all in agreement on the action to be taken.”

“Fine, I’ll go along with it. Just spell out the plan, Cordeman. Dante isn’t going to waste any time getting to her.”

“Tell me about it. Okay, here are your new orders. Kit is to go underground at your residence for the duration of Operation Storm. Since I haven’t initiated the paperwork transferring Kit to the CG yet, that will be the ideal place for her to hide. It’s been decided to issue fake orders transferring Kit up to Atlanta on special assignment. That will throw Dante off her trail. I’ll be the only police contact with you and her. No one, other than me, the captain and your commander will know Kit’s true whereabouts. Your residence will become a safe house for Kit. From there, she can ride with you to the ship and home again. It dovetails perfectly with the operation.”

His fingers tightening around the phone, Noah whispered an epithet. How the hell could he keep a professional distance from Kit when she would be in his personal life? “There’s no way you’re putting her on my doorstep, Cordeman.”

The supervisor laughed sharply. “Tell that to your commanding officer, Trayhern. Listen, this is coming down fast. You can’t buck these orders. They’ve been approved all the way up the line. If I were you, I’d get over to Kit’s home pronto, pack a few of her clothes and get her out of there before Dante shows up.”

Kit heard the doorbell ring. She wiped her hands on a towel and placed it on the kitchen counter. It had to be Noah. Why had he sounded so grim on the phone earlier? Opening the door, she looked up at his hard features. He appeared harried—and aggravated.

“Come in,” she invited. Her heart began a slow pound of dread as she read some undefinable emotion in his stormy eyes.

Taking off his officer’s cap, Noah moved into the living room. Kit looked achingly beautiful in the raspberry-colored floor-length cotton gown she wore. Her hair was tousled, framing her oval face, her gray eyes large with concern. As she approached, he said, “I couldn’t talk on the phone when I called you.”

Kit tensed. “Something’s wrong.”

Obviously agitated, Noah ran his fingers across his chin. “Very wrong. Cordeman called me half an hour ago. Emilio Dante has been sprung from prison.”

Gasping, Kit stared up at him in disbelief and confusion. Dante was free…and he had sworn to kill her the first chance he got! She shut her eyes tightly, trying to fight through the flood of fear. “My God…”

Noah saw her weave unsteadily. He reached out, gripping her arm. “Come on, sit down,” he entreated huskily, leading her over to the couch. He sat down next to her.

“Dante’s free. But how?” she cried.

Her fear became his. Until that moment, Noah hadn’t realized just how much Kit had started to become someone important to him in an emotional sense. The feeling made him reel. Struggling to keep his voice calm and neutral, he told her what Cordeman had said.

“That means I have to disappear. I can’t stay here….” Kit looked around the room. She’d spent little time in this house over the past five years, yet within one week she had grown to love its quiet beauty.

“I know. Cordeman and the DEA have already decided what’s to be done,” Noah began heavily.

“They want me to go to a motel under a fictitious name?”

“No. To my home. It will be your safe house for the duration of Storm.”

“What?” Kit stared at him, her mouth dropping open. “You can’t be serious!”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Noah confided, getting to his feet. “The DEA feels you’ll be safe at my place. The paperwork transferring you to the CG was never processed. For once the slowness of bureaucracy is a blessing. Cordeman will issue fake orders sending you TAD to Atlanta. Besides, with you going out daily on the
Osprey
this will avoid a lot of transportation difficulties. You can ride to and from work with me.” He saw the shock deepen in Kit’s features.

Kit looked down at her hands. Her fingers were trembling. She might be physically safe at Noah’s home, but her emotions were in danger. “But,” she began in a strained voice, “can’t you do something? Anything? I don’t think us living together under one roof is such a good idea. We can’t seem to spend an hour together without arguing.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do about it,” he muttered. “Look, let’s get you packed and out of here. There’s no time to waste.”

Rising, Kit turned to him. “This isn’t going to work, dammit!”

All Noah’s aggravation and frustration dissolved beneath the desperation in her gray eyes. Why the hell was he acting like this? He could see she was badly shaken by the news. Kit needed his maturity and protection right now, not his anger. “We’ll make it work.”

Her gaze followed every curve of his face. Despite the harsh set of his mouth, she found compassion in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Her heart said yes to the plan, but her wary mind screamed no. “Noah…this is going to be disastrous.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do.”

Kit wanted to continue to protest, but she knew it was useless. Uncertain, she walked toward the bedroom. Too emotionally exhausted to argue further, she said, “Okay, but I’m not going to be your housekeeper and cook, Noah Trayhern.”

He managed a curt nod. “You’re a guest at my home. I’ll treat you like one.”

Kit swallowed against her constricted throat. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to leave,” she uttered tiredly.

“I feel ridiculous,” Kit said to Noah as they drove toward his home.

He glanced over at her, struggling to sound optimistic. “As soon as you get over the initial shock, you’ll be fine.”

She had her doubts. The scenery along the freeway didn’t impinge upon her inner turmoil, and Noah’s closeness did nothing but emphasize her fragile emotions. She wasn’t prepared for any kind of relationship with a man—professional or otherwise. Kit stole a quick glance at Noah’s profile, lingering on his mouth. It turned up, and there were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. The men she worked with didn’t smile often.

“You know everything about me,” she began awkwardly, “and I know nothing about you.”

His sea-green eyes lightened. “I’ll give you a hint—my friends refer to my home as ‘Noah’s ark.’”

Her brows drew down. “I’m in no shape for guessing games today. Mind explaining?”

“I’ll let that be a surprise. What else do you want to know?”

Kit refused to yield to the implication in his husky voice. Further, she chose to ignore the word “home.” She had always lived in a house, never a home. “Tell me about yourself,” she insisted.

“Twenty-nine, single, black hair, green eyes—”

“Cut the stats. You sound like a sales pitch for some dating service.”

“With my job responsibilities, I don’t date much.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Just a roundabout way of letting you know you won’t be a third wheel at home.”

Kit sank against the car seat, and as she closed her eyes, she suddenly felt very tired. “The more I get to know you, Noah, the less I understand about men,” she admitted softly.

“You’ve worked with men all your life,” Noah returned.
The dark side of them,
he thought. “Maybe I can show you a more positive side.” He saw a slight upward curve of her lips. That was enough for him. Even in the bright afternoon sunlight that cascaded through the car window, Kit appeared drawn. “Go to sleep,” he coaxed. “I’ll wake you when we get home.”