reappeared on the bridge.
“Lying down in my cabin.”
Nodding his sandy-haired head, Joe said, “She doesn’t look very seaworthy, does she?”
Sitting down, Noah picked up the hot-sheet list. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Pretty, though.”
“Very.”
“For being from the police department, she’s got a nice way about her,” Edwards added, checking the compass and lightly turning the helm to keep the Osprey on course.
Kit was nice in many unexpected ways, Noah grudgingly admitted. “Especially for having been an undercover cop for five years.”
Edwards whistled, his blue eyes crinkling with surprise. “Her? An undercover agent? You gotta be kidding, Skipper.”
“I wish I was. She’s not cut out for it.”
“No kidding. Man, we’ve seen some hard agents, and Kit—I mean, Detective Anderson—just doesn’t fit that bill of goods.”
Smiling to himself, Noah returned to the paperwork at hand. He noticed Joe had slipped and called her Kit. She had the same mesmerizing effect on everyone, it seemed, himself included. The rows of radios surrounding them on the bridge were fairly quiet. They would get noisy if a drug boat were spotted.
“Don’t let her fool you, though,” Noah warned him. “She’s survived five years in the trenches and is alive to tell about it.”
“Yeah, but what’s it done to her, Skipper? We both know the undercover world is hell on an agent.”
And Kit had gone over the edge, Noah wanted to add, but he didn’t. He had gotten permission to tell Edwards that his home was a safe house for Kit. But the rest of the crew would never know; as far as they were concerned, she was just another police officer interfacing with the Coast Guard. A well-kept secret would keep Kit safe. “Her health isn’t what it should be,” he said in answer to Joe’s question. That wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t really the full truth, either. Noah felt himself becoming even more protective of Kit, wanting to shield her in every way possible.
“Well, she’s quite a lady in my book. I’m kind of glad she’s going to be with us during Operation Storm.”
Placing the clipboard on the console, Noah watched his crewmen on deck for several moments before responding to Joe. “I don’t know if she’s going to be glad to be with us,” he finally said ruefully.
Edwards chuckled. “Yeah, if she’s seasick even taking that drug, she might get to hate this assignment real fast.”
The brilliant blue-green depths of the ocean were darkening, telling Noah they were moving away from the coast. The waves were barely two feet in height; it was a perfect day. “I’ll check on her around noon. Maybe she’ll be feeling better by then,” Noah said. He could send one of the crewmen to look in on Kit, but he wanted to do it himself. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 8:30 a.m.
In some respects, the day was going to drag because Kit wasn’t there at his side. Musing on how much Kit had already made herself a part of his life, Noah shook his head. What kind of magic did she wield? He felt as if his life were spinning completely out of his control. Yet he had to maintain a professionalism or jeopardize his career. He had enemies who wanted to embarrass him because of Morgan. No, somehow he had to walk that razor-fine line, help Kit back on her feet and carry out his duties in the meantime. He glanced at his watch one more time, restless and wanting to make sure Kit was all right.
The bulkhead door opened, then closed. Kit stirred from sleep and drowsily opened her eyes. Noah stood nearby, his face etched with shadows.
“Uh…” Kit struggled into a sitting position. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Noah sat down on the lone chair in the room, studying her intently. Kit’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, her mouth soft and inviting. The urge to reach out and brush the hair off her brow almost got the better of him. He kept his hands resting on his thighs. “When you get
“Lying down in my cabin.”
Nodding his sandy-haired head, Joe said, “She doesn’t look very seaworthy, does she?”
Sitting down, Noah picked up the hot-sheet list. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Pretty, though.”
“Very.”
“For being from the police department, she’s got a nice way about her,” Edwards added, checking the compass and lightly turning the helm to keep the Osprey on course.
Kit was nice in many unexpected ways, Noah grudgingly admitted. “Especially for having been an undercover cop for five years.”
Edwards whistled, his blue eyes crinkling with surprise. “Her? An undercover agent? You gotta be kidding, Skipper.”
“I wish I was. She’s not cut out for it.”
“No kidding. Man, we’ve seen some hard agents, and Kit—I mean, Detective Anderson—just doesn’t fit that bill of goods.”
Smiling to himself, Noah returned to the paperwork at hand. He noticed Joe had slipped and called her Kit. She had the same mesmerizing effect on everyone, it seemed, himself included. The rows of radios surrounding them on the bridge were fairly quiet. They would get noisy if a drug boat were spotted.
“Don’t let her fool you, though,” Noah warned him. “She’s survived five years in the trenches and is alive to tell about it.”
“Yeah, but what’s it done to her, Skipper? We both know the undercover world is hell on an agent.”
And Kit had gone over the edge, Noah wanted to add, but he didn’t. He had gotten permission to tell Edwards that his home was a safe house for Kit. But the rest of the crew would never know; as far as they were concerned, she was just another police officer interfacing with the Coast Guard. A well-kept secret would keep Kit safe. “Her health isn’t what it should be,” he said in answer to Joe’s question. That wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t really the full truth, either. Noah felt himself becoming even more protective of Kit, wanting to shield her in every way possible.
“Well, she’s quite a lady in my book. I’m kind of glad she’s going to be with us during Operation Storm.”
Placing the clipboard on the console, Noah watched his crewmen on deck for several moments before responding to Joe. “I don’t know if she’s going to be glad to be with us,” he finally said ruefully.
Edwards chuckled. “Yeah, if she’s seasick even taking that drug, she might get to hate this assignment real fast.”
The brilliant blue-green depths of the ocean were darkening, telling Noah they were moving away from the coast. The waves were barely two feet in height; it was a perfect day. “I’ll check on her around noon. Maybe she’ll be feeling better by then,” Noah said. He could send one of the crewmen to look in on Kit, but he wanted to do it himself. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 8:30 a.m.
In some respects, the day was going to drag because Kit wasn’t there at his side. Musing on how much Kit had already made herself a part of his life, Noah shook his head. What kind of magic did she wield? He felt as if his life were spinning completely out of his control. Yet he had to maintain a professionalism or jeopardize his career. He had enemies who wanted to embarrass him because of Morgan. No, somehow he had to walk that razor-fine line, help Kit back on her feet and carry out his duties in the meantime. He glanced at his watch one more time, restless and wanting to make sure Kit was all right.
The bulkhead door opened, then closed. Kit stirred from sleep and drowsily opened her eyes. Noah stood nearby, his face etched with shadows.
“Uh…” Kit struggled into a sitting position. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Noah sat down on the lone chair in the room, studying her intently. Kit’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, her mouth soft and inviting. The urge to reach out and brush the hair off her brow almost got the better of him. He kept his hands resting on his thighs. “When you get
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