Page 15 of Cooper's Command

Regardless, if there was a chance someone else was involved in Tate’s death and Paulin had the proof, it was worth the risk.

Cooper edged closer. “Everything okay?”

She feigned a smile, pocketing her phone. “That was Paulin. He wants me to meet him at the office. Go over a few things.”

Either her boss had exaggerated about her gifted ability to lie, or Cooper simply saw through her because he frowned. “Paulin wants to see you now? Isn’t he on O’ahu?”

“I guess he caught a private flight back. I assume you didn’t find anything?”

His frown deepened at the sudden change in topic. “Nothing. Maybe I should tag along.”

“I think this is one meeting I need to do alone. But I’ll call you when it’s over.” She attempted a more genuine smile. “We should probably talk about a few things.”

“Probably.”

“Then, it’s a date.” She motioned toward the exit. “Thanks for helping. I’ll let Emery know I’ll be checking in later.”

Cooper nodded, following her to her car. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something — offer to come along, again, if her hunch was right — then closed it, watching as she jumped in.

Nova looked up the address on her phone then took one last glance in her rearview. This was it. Her chance to get ahead of whatever cartel was trying to set up shop on the island. But more importantly, to finally get the truth behind Tate’s death. And if Moody hadn’t acted alone, she’d make it her sole mission to hunt down every last person involved.

CHAPTER 4

“This is it?”

Nova stared at the nondescript building rising out of a plateau of dirt and scrubby trees. The kind of setting she’d expect a drug dealer to have selected. But maybe that was why Paulin had chosen it if he really had been running drugs. She just hoped she wasn’t giving the guy too much credit.

Spotting only one car in the lot eased a few of the lingering doubts. Gave her a glimmer of hope. Not that she wouldn’t suit up for a possible ambush, but if the guy wanted her dead, it would be easier to kill her before she stepped out of her car. And seeing as there wasn’t anywhere close enough for a squad of thugs to hide…

The trunk creaked as she cracked it open, dragging her container of supplies toward the back edge. She didn’t have half the gear she would have carried in Columbia, but it was enough to give her a fighting chance if things ended up bloody.

She popped off the lid, wishing she’d been able to grab a vest from the Virginia branch or bring hers with her from Columbia. But she’d traveled to Hawai’i under the guise of a vacation, and signing out a ballistic vest from a sister office after attending Tate’s funeral wouldn’t have added any credence to her claims.

Ironic that there was likely a spare in the office. Not that it would do her any good if this wasn’t the benign meeting she hoped it would be.

As if on cue her phone vibrated, a text popping up from Paulin’s number.

I’m not playing you, Nova. So just grab whatever makes you feel secure and get your ass inside before you put us both at risk.

Great, now Paulin was questioning her skill.

Nova pocketed some extra mags, shoved her spare Sig in her ankle holster, then clipped a flashlight and burner cell on her jeans. Not that she thought she’d need them but going in with only her service weapon felt wrong.

Water from a fountain in the center of the gravel lot gurgled in the background as she made her way onto the landing. A dull light brightened the entryway, another burning in a room at the end of a hallway. She didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door and headed inside — muscles primed. Scanning each direction just to be safe.

Was that a thud? Or was it just her imagination getting the better of her? All the doubts and anxieties over Tate’s death — the thought that she really had failed him — manifesting into her seeing and hearing ghosts.

“Richard? Everything okay?”

There was no mistaking the next sound, a mix of someone falling and glass breaking. Echoing down the hallway. Mocking her for not trusting her instincts.

Nova drew her gun, sweeping through the small array of rooms — a makeshift kitchen and bathroom, along with a couple of closets and a storage area — stopping shy of the main space at the end of the corridor. She checked her six, silently hoping this was just her paranoia getting the better of her. That he’d simply dropped a glass or knocked over his chair.

Until she stepped out — saw Paulin lying on the floor. An increasing circle of blood slowly soaking into the carpet. Broken glass was scattered beneath a window, a briefcase lying on the floor beside him. He made a wet sputtering gasp, reaching one hand toward her before it fell with another thud on the floor.

“Shit. Richard.”

One last quick glance over her shoulder then Nova was out and clearing the room before darting to him. His eyes were half-lidded as blood oozed from his mouth. She checked his pulse but there was nothing. No strumming. No sucking breath sounds.

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