Hot Target by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

rode in silence for several moments before Kelly burst out laughing again. “I just . . .” she said, but couldn’t go on because she was laughing so hard. It took her a moment to compose herself enough to speak. “I’m not laughing at you or her or . . .”
    He sighed. “It’s okay.”
    “It’s just . . . I was sitting in her living room, thinking so that’s why Cosmo’s so quiet. You grew up unable to get in a word edgewise. And when your mother’s not talking, the music is up so loud. . . .”
    “And you wonder why I never bring anyone to meet her?”
    “Cos, come on, you really don’t need to worry about that. Anyone who cares about you will absolutely adore your mother, too,” Kelly told him. “It’s so obvious that she loves you. Clearly she just wants you to be happy.” She paused.
    Uh-oh.
    “Are you still seeing . . . oh, God, I’m blanking on her name,” Kelly asked. “I’m sorry. You know who I mean—the accountant.”
    “Stephanie,” Cosmo said. “No. That was . . . No. She took a job in New York.” He shook his head. “That was never meant to be long-term.”
    She reclined her seat a bit in an attempt to get comfortable, turning slightly to watch him as he drove. “You told me you liked her.”
    “Yeah,” Cosmo said. He’d told Kelly a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t have in the past nearly two years that they’d been unlikely friends.
    He was friends with Tommy’s Kelly. Who would’ve thought that? It had all started when Commander Tom Paoletti had been held under house arrest, charged with the unlikely treasonous crime of providing weapons to terrorists—among other equally ridiculous accusations.
    Kelly had been hell-bent on running her own investigation, determined to find the proof she’d needed to clear her husband’s name. At Tom’s request, Cosmo had started hanging around her, riding shotgun, so to speak.
    And when she dug just a little too deep, they’d both been injured from a car bomb that was intended to keep her from digging further.
    She’d had some serious internal injuries and he’d badly broken his leg. Their friendship had solidified as they’d helped each other with physical therapy after getting out of the hospital.
    “I did like Steph,” Cosmo told Kelly now. “I guess she just never got that attached to me.”
    How could she have? They never spent any of their time together talking. Well, she’d talked. He’d listened. And before he’d gotten around to telling her how he felt, she’d found a replacement and left.
    “I’m sorry,” Kelly said.
    He shrugged. “It happens.”
    They drove in silence for a mile or so before Kelly said, “So.”
    Cos didn’t dare look up from the road. He just waited for it.
    And it came, of course. “Sophia Ghaffari,” Kelly said.
    He laughed, swearing under his breath.
    “Tom mentioned that you came into the office and, um . . . noticed her,” Kelly said.
    “Tommy told me she just lost her husband,” Cos countered.
    “It’s not a just,” she said. “I mean, okay, it hasn’t quite been a year, but it’s close. I don’t really know her that well, but she comes across as being lonely. At the very least, she needs a friend. And if there’s anybody I’d trust to take it slowly with her, it’s you. I think you should ask her to dinner.”
    They drove for a mile. And then another. She just sat there, watching him, waiting for his response.
    “I don’t know, Kel,” he finally said. Dinner. With Sophia Ghaffari. Jesus God.
    “How about this,” Kelly suggested, because she knew exactly what he was thinking. “A dinner party. This week. At the beach house. Me and Tom. And John and Meg—”
    “No, no, no, no,” he said. “No officers from Team Sixteen. No way. Don’t get me wrong, I love Johnny like a brother, but in that kind of formal setting, he’d be Lieutenant Nilsson and I’d be S-squared, all night long.” Even without Nilsson’s presence, Cosmo would be inclined to sit