Page 136 of Ship Outta Luck

“Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock?”

“You remembered.” I smile.

“I’ll remember nearly everything about this. About you.”

His hands curl into my hair, pulling my mouth into his, stealing my air, leaving me gasping. We break apart, breathing heavily.

Dean locks eyes with mine. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming back for you… and then we can figure out long distance. Or…” His voice trails off. “We’ll figure something out. Rest up.” He winks as he presses off the bed, the coverlet dimpled from his hands. He swaggers out of the room, the door clicking shut behind his muscled butt.

I’d like another piece of that cake.

CHAPTER

FORTY

DEAN

I flashmy credentials at the armed guards outside the base and they wave me into the squat concrete building, but I pause, glancing around. Something feels off. Nagging at me, tugging at my awareness. Palm trees sway in the heavy breeze, stars twinkling overhead. I can hardly concentrate. My mind never leaving June.

How she felt, naked and warm, in my arms. The way her hair smelled, how it felt tickling across my shoulders.

Charlie hardly said a word on the way over, taciturn and surly. But even she seemed to notice my mood, giving me space.

“You okay, man?” one of the guards asks, and I nod, stepping into the cold interior of the building. A few turns and I’m at a reception desk, Charlie behind me. A sad potted tree wilts in the corner, no doubt undone by the bureaucratic nonsense detailing its watering schedule.

“Sir?” A young private mans the desk, black braids pulled back in a tight bun, an even tighter smile on her face.

“I got a call about a chain of custody evidence issue. Paperwork.” I aim for a charming smile. Judging by her lack of response, it’s a swing and a miss.

“Who called you?”

“Staff Sergeant Penelope Briggs.”

She frowns at the name, and my nerves jangle.

“Dean.” Charlie’s voice is low. “Please tell me you called it back in.”

No. I’d been too distracted. I shake my head, blowing out a breath.

“I’ll see if I can find her.” The woman makes a few keystrokes on her keyboard, peering at the screen. “What department did you say she worked in?”

“It’s about the evidence found in the gulf today. It came in with the Coast Guard cutter,” Charlie answers for me, shooting me an exasperated look.

I rap my fingers against the top of the desk. Unease threading through me. A staff sergeant shouldn’t be hard to find. Not even on a base this size.

“You may not have access to the whole file.” What we found has surely been classified at the highest compartment at this point.

“Sir, that’s correct.” Her frown deepens, bordering on a scowl. “The file is classified. But it hasn’t been flagged for review.”

“What do you mean?” Charlie asks.

“There are no problems with the chain of custody. And there is no Penelope Briggs in our database. I can call my staff sergeant down, if you need to speak with him.”

The words hit me like a physical blow and I exhale, the air whooshing out of me.

“Sir? Are you alright? Do I need to take it up to command?” Her eyes narrow.

“Yes. We need to take it up. And we need to send people over to the Wildwood Hotel. I need a secure line.” I need to call the DEA. Need to clear somethings up, make sure they know Pierce is dirty.

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