Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(60)

“Something wrong?”

She jumped a good three inches, biting back an oath. “Make some noise, will you, Morgan? Otherwise, you might get yourself shot in that rugged jaw of yours.”

Gabe simply smiled. “I trust your reflexes. Where are the Buffy fans?”

“Helping Cara pack.” Summer slid her cell phone back into her pocket. “Everything set for Los Reyes?”

“Checked and rechecked. And you didn’t answer my question. What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think—”

“Because you look like you just took a bullet at point-blank range. So what’s going on?”

“Nothing important,” Summer said coolly. She started to walk past, but Gabe grabbed her wrist.

Dimly she noted it was her left wrist, not her scarred one.

“Let’s get this straight. If something’s stuck in your craw, it affects your judgment and response time. That affects the mission. So I’ll ask you again: What the hell is wrong?”

Summer was surprised to feel her heart pounding. He smelled like shaving cream and some kind of lemon soap. Wet hair. Damp face. Must have come right out of the shower—

“Mulvaney, I’m waiting.”

“Okay, there is something. I just had a call from my boss. The forensic analysis produced next to nothing. Mineral-based ink traces and soy oil of some sort.”

He seemed to be watching her face intensely. “That’s all?”

“My SAC sent the contents on to the lab in D.C., but don’t hold your breath. Unless Senator Winslow makes a fuss, it could be weeks.”

“He will,” Gabe said calmly. “I’ll talk to him today. Now what else is bothering you?”

She considered lying. Heaven knows, hiding the details of her life had become a habit. Then she looked into his eyes and decided lying would be about as useful as a raincoat on a June day in Arizona.

She looked out over the grass, watching a big trawler cruise south. To Baja? Or even farther, down to Puerto Vallarta or Peru?

She rolled her shoulders a little and realized she hadn’t a clue where to start. “It’s about work.”

“The Philadelphia field office, you mean?”

Summer nodded. “My first partner . . . died a while back.”

Seventeen months, two weeks, and four days, Summer thought grimly.

“What happened?”

“Routine surveillance. I was the FNG.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow.

“Effing New Guy,” Summer said grimly. “We were parked, watching the back exit during a low-priority search warrant entry, and suddenly—” The memories streamed in cold waves. “Three lunatics the size of Jesse Ventura on major steroids exploded out of a locked garage with opening fire. We were pinned down, and my partner, Riley, hadn’t even put on his Nomex. I looked around, heard the windshield pop, and he’s hit, crumpling hard.” She took two sharp breaths, remembering what came next.

“Two of the guys race up to the car, and I see they have a red metal can. Everything happens so fast and Riley—my partner—had his window open. The next thing I know, they’re dousing the seat, dousing Riley, dousing me . . .”

Her voice shook a little, so she stopped, awash in memories. She took another long breath. “In a second my clothes are burning. I try to get to Riley. Twice I try, but—”

Gabe’s face was like steel when he reached out, gripping her shoulder. “So that’s what happened. Bad break—especially for the FNG. You’re still carrying it around with you, just like those scars carved into your arm. Let it go, Summer. Your partner screwed up, not you.”

She shook her head, a quick, angry movement like brushing away flies. “Riley was right there beside me, joking one minute, bloody the next. Then burning like a torch because I couldn’t get close enough. So don’t tell me to let it go, damn it, because I can’t.”

“Point taken,” Gabe said quietly. “Why didn’t you check the garage first?”

Summer stared out at the ocean.

“It was your partner’s job, wasn’t it? But he was hungry, or impatient, or he got a call from his accountant.”

“Call of nature,” Summer said quietly. “He hit the bushes and said the garage could wait. When he came back, I asked, but he told me to shut up. I was the FNG, so I took orders. And then—” She shuddered. “Then it was too late.”

Her fingers moved to her arm.

Gabe watched her cradle the scarred skin in an unconscious gesture that left him chilled, reliving the inferno through her motions.

She was right, of course. You never forgot a thing like that. You only thought about it slightly less than every hour of every day, wondering what you could have done differently so your partner would still be alive.

Gabe took in the closed expression on her face. “There’s more, isn’t there? It didn’t end after the fire.”

She made a sharp movement with one hand. “Look, Gabe, I really don’t want to talk about—”

“What happened next, Summer? Did they collar you for the mistake, put you under suspension? The FNG takes the flack?”

Her fingers moved restlessly over her arm. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”