Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(29)

“Everybody else would. God knows, I still have dreams about that day. Nightmares, actually. The ugliness of it all. The indecision.”

“Have there been specific demands made?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Cara closed her eyes. “I convinced myself the past was buried. Given my line of work, I should have known better.” Slowly she reached for a new napkin, watching the brown stain creep over the white cotton. “I have a sample of Glenlivet in the pantry at the back of the top shelf. I told myself I’d keep it for necessity or a special occasion. I’m afraid this is it.”

Summer found the small bottle, the size used on airplanes, and added half to Cara’s tea. “Drink it. You’ll feel better.”

“No, I won’t. I won’t feel better until this person is found—and stopped.” Cara’s eyes were haunted as she took a sip of her tea and grimaced. “This tastes like battery acid.”

“I’m told it’s an acquired taste.”

The assistant DA rubbed her neck with unsteady fingers. “You’re not asking for any details?”

“I have the date and a location. You’ve given me what is necessary.”

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t tell anything more. That’s non-negotiable.”

Summer nodded. She wasn’t here to probe Cara’s past. She’d make her own quiet inquiries and see what emerged. Meanwhile, security was her main concern.

“I’ll have the box and paper analyzed first thing in the morning. We may get prints or enough DNA evidence to put this creep away.”

Cara took another sip of her tea. “I don’t think so. Whoever sent that box got past two sets of guards and my own assistant. This person is very good, Summer. That terrifies me.”

“You think it’s someone in the building, someone you know?”

“At first I couldn’t accept that. Now I’d have to say it’s possible. How else could they get into my office?”

“As of tomorrow, your door gets new locks, and you keep it locked. No access without a call from your assistant. No one gets a key except the two of you.”

“I was thinking along the same lines.”

Summer made a note in her book. “I want to know everyone who entered your building today, along with who they went to see and when they departed.”

“I thought of that. Security should have a list for me by noon tomorrow.” Cara shoved a strand of hair from her forehead. “I asked my assistant for the names of people who came into my office while she was there.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

Summer scanned the sheet. “Only twelve? Was she out for a long time?”

“She always goes for lunch at one. Anyone on the floor could have slipped in then, and most of them know her schedule.” There was a note of weariness in Cara’s voice. “Forty-two people work on my floor, and all forty-two were in the building today.” She smiled grimly. “I checked with security.”

“That gives us some kind of baseline, at least. Things could be worse.” Summer refilled their cups. “Let’s get to work.” She read off the first name on Cara’s list while opening a new page in her ever-present notebook. “How long have you known him and are you currently working on any active cases together?”

As Cara spoke, Summer took notes.

It was going to be a long night, she thought grimly.



They were halfway down the list when the back door opened and the alarm beeped.

“Only me.” Tate peered around the corner, then punched in the security override code.

He looked rumpled and sexy with his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves pushed up. A man no woman could resist, Cara thought. Heaven knows, she had tried vainly for years.

“Excuse me,” Summer murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

She was gone before the other two realized it.

“That is one unusual young woman.” Cara stood up. “Let me get you some tea.”

“You stay put. Hopefully I can pour hot water without inflicting third-degree burns on myself.” Tate slid into the chair beside her and traced her cheek. “You look like hell,” he said huskily.

“So nice of you to tell me, especially since you look rumpled, but gorgeous as always. The world is unjust.” Cara sighed. “What on earth are you doing with a boring workaholic like me?”

“Having the time of my misbegotten life.” Tate spoke with a raw directness that stripped away the clever comment she had planned. “Remembering what it felt like to be eighteen and invincible, only now I’m a whole lot smarter. At least, I hope I am.” He looked at the box, now carefully repacked. “Is this what you found beneath your desk?”

“Afraid so.” Cara nodded, leaning against his chest. She needed to relax, just long enough for the names on her list to stop blurring and the panic to recede.

He smelled like oranges and aftershave and good leather, and she leaned closer, thinking that he had probably just showered and shaved. As she rested her cheek against his skin, she felt the old, racing heat, the slick sensitivity between her thighs.

Always the desire.

With a sigh she turned and focused on cutting a piece of carrot cake. “Patrick made this before he and Imelda left. No dieting allowed while that boy is in charge of the kitchen. Imelda said she’s put on ten pounds since coming here.” Cara sliced through rich layers of chocolate frosting and carrot-filled cake, then gasped sharply.