Delta Force Die Hard Page 3

  “I agree, unless someone slipped up.” She touched his sleeve. “You still haven’t told me why someone would want to kill Marten.”

  “Because of all this.” He swept his arm to the side, encompassing the bay. “De Becker was making noises about taking back his eyewitness statement placing Denver in Syria outside that refugee camp.”

  “Why is that a problem? Doesn’t the army want the truth? Doesn’t the CIA?”

  “They may want the truth, but there are factions in some high places that want to perpetuate this lie about Major Denver. We just don’t know why.”

  “We?”

  “A couple of my Delta Force team members have already uncovered some discrepancies in these stories swirling around Denver. Things are not adding up.”

  “These highly placed factions are willing to commit murder to further their narrative?” Hailey put a hand to her throat. “To follow around innocent citizens?”

  “Your meeting with de Becker never happened. You don’t know why he wanted to talk to you.” Joe pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “If anyone ever follows up with you, tell them you heard the name Denver used for one of your kidnappers and leave it at that.”

  It was not the speech he’d planned to deliver to Hailey Duvall. He’d wanted her to step forward and question the investigators’ insistence that the major was there, that it was ludicrous to believe they’d use his real name under those circumstances. But after meeting and talking with Hailey, all he wanted to do was protect her. Keep her away from this madness.

  She’d already been through enough. Her car had delivered a bomb inside a refugee center filled with innocents. Even though it wasn’t her fault, she’d have to carry that with her. And he could tell—this would weigh on her.

  Why else would an über-rich woman spend her time and money to help people halfway across the world? Put herself in danger to do so? When he’d started this journey, he thought Hailey was a naive do-gooder. Now he felt humbled in the presence of her selflessness.

  She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I stick to that story, how are you going to prove Denver wasn’t responsible for the bombing of the refugee camp?”

  “I’ll prove it another way.” He swept up his plate with its collapsing bread bowl. “But I’d like to see you home, if that’s okay.”

  Her gaze shifted to the sidewalk, still jammed with tourists. “Do you think I’m in danger?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “That guy was probably just following you to see if you’d go to the police with any suspicions about the man who went overboard. If they do have de Becker’s phone, maybe you can just play it cool and text him as if he blew off your date.”

  “I already did text him—and that was no date.” She plowed her fingers through her hair. “If Marten was murdered, do you think I can sit back and pretend this night never happened? If it turns out that was Marten, I’m going to go to the police and the FBI and tell them about our planned meeting and the texts I received from his phone after his death.”

  “Not sure that would be wise at this point, Hailey.”

  “Wise?” Her eyes grew round. “It’s what’s right. It’s justice.”

  Uneasiness gnawed at his gut. Did he really think Hailey would drop this after all she’d gone through? He should’ve just made sure she came to no harm tonight. He never should’ve intervened and approached her. A woman like Hailey spelled danger for him ten different ways.

  The truth smacked him in the face, and he swallowed. Once he’d gotten an eyeful of Hailey, he felt compelled to make a move. How else was he gonna meet a woman like this? They didn’t travel in the same circles...and that poor boy from South Boston still desperately yearned to be accepted by those women out of his reach—the one that got away. Pathetic bastard.

  Hailey stood up suddenly. “You can see me home if you like. I was going to call an online car before I got the bright idea that I needed something to eat down here.”

  “And you never even ate.” He pointed to the chowder, cold and soaking into its bowl.

  “Like I said, lost my appetite.”

  As she strolled toward the curb, bent over her phone, Joe grabbed their trash and dumped it in the nearest can.

  She held up her cell as he approached her. “I told him to meet us up the street a little to avoid the traffic around here.”

  “Is Pacific Heights close?”

  Sliding a glance to the side, she said, “You really did your research, didn’t you? You even know where I live.”

  “C’mon, Hailey. It’s not exactly hard to find out where you live. You’re kinda all over San Francisco society news.”

  “Sometimes this can really seem like a small town.” She bumped his elbow with her own. “Let’s cross.”

  He didn’t presume to take her arm as they crossed the street, but he wanted to. Everyone she came in contact with must feel that way about her—drawn to her vitality and warmth. He was simply one of many who swarmed around her, wanting to be close.

  The phone in her hand rang, and she brought it to her face. “Yeah, right in front of the T-shirt shop. I see you—black Nissan.”

  As the black car pulled up to the curb, Joe shot forward and opened the door for Hailey.

  She slid into the back seat, and he followed.

  Hunching forward, she asked, “Do you need directions?”

  “I have it on my GPS. Pacific Avenue in Pacific Heights, right?”

  “That’s it.” She settled back and closed her eyes. “When do you think we’ll find out about Marten?”

  “If he didn’t buy the ticket under his own name and they don’t—” Joe glanced at the rearview mirror “—find the body, it could take a while. If he washes up somewhere and they can get fingerprints, they’ll eventually ID him.”

  “He’s Dutch, you know, a Dutch citizen, and they’ll ID him a lot faster when I step forward and report him missing.”

  Joe put a finger to his lips. He was beginning to understand that once Hailey got her teeth into something, she became a pit bull.

  A totally gorgeous pit bull with really nice teeth.

  Several minutes later, Hailey tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “It’s the one on the left. You can pull over here.”

  The driver whistled as he stopped his car. “That must be a great view during the day. Not bad at night, either.”

  “It is. Thanks.” Hailey turned to Joe. “Do you want to keep the car for wherever you’re going next?”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll see you to the front door.”

  The driver adjusted the rearview mirror. “I can wait here, but you’ll have to call me up again on the app.”

  “I’ll do it when we get up to the house. If you get another fare, take it.”

  Hailey slid from the car and Joe followed her out and trailed after her as she strode across the street.

  His jaw dropped slightly when he got a load of the house looming in front of him. The huge white house, gleaming in the night, had a fountain and a garden in front and what looked like a four-car garage on the lower level. Being in San Francisco, and Pacific Heights in particular, they had to walk up some steps to get to the front door.

  “I’m sure it’s okay. I even have security cameras.” She pointed to the eaves of the house as she charged ahead of him. Then she tripped to a stop and gasped.

  His hand shot out to grab her arm, and she spun in his grasp, almost falling into his arms from the step above.

  “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head and stepped to the side—revealing a black hat with a checkered band resting on her welcome mat.

  Some welcome.

  Chapter Three

  Hailey’s knees wobbled and she took an unsteady step down—away from Marten’s hat—even though it put her chest to chest
with Joe.

  His arm curled around her back, and she didn’t even jerk away. She needed support right now—and this solid hunk of man fit the bill.

  “It’s Marten’s, isn’t it? That’s the hat I was following all day until I trailed him to the ferry to Alcatraz. Any doubts now?”

  Even Joe’s voice, low and rumbling, represented safety.

  “How did it end up here? It was on the deck after...he went overboard. Wouldn’t the crew have picked it up? Why would they allow some random person to grab the hat of the guy who’d just taken a dive off the boat?”

  “There was mass confusion in the moments after the other passengers reported that a man had gone into the water. Anyone could’ve snatched up the hat.”

  Someone honked a horn, and Hailey jumped, putting her even closer to Joe and his warm presence.

  He squeezed her waist. “It’s the driver. I’ll tell him not to wait. He’ll just think I got lucky.”

  With her head to one side, Hailey watched Joe jog down the steps to the sidewalk. Got lucky? Was that what he was hoping for? Was that what she was hoping for?

  As he returned to the porch, Hailey leaned over the hat, giving it a wide berth, and unlocked her front door. She pushed it open and jerked her thumb up to the roof. “I’m going to get a look at exactly who left the hat when I check my security footage, and then I’m going to call the police.”

  “You’re going to call the police on someone for leaving a hat on your doorstep?” Joe crouched down and picked up the hat by its brim. “Maybe the SFPD jumps when someone from Pacific Heights calls, but I doubt this offense would be high on their agenda.”

  “The hat of someone who was pushed off an Alcatraz ferry?”

  “Nobody said he was pushed. There were no witnesses. He could’ve fallen. Jumped. There’s no...body yet.”

  She turned toward him, still not sure whether or not she was inviting him inside. “Why’d they do it? Why leave Marten’s hat here?”

  “As a warning? I don’t know.” He tipped the hat at her. “Let’s take a look at that security footage.”

  He’d made the decision for her, invited himself in...and she didn’t mind one bit.

  She widened the door and stepped back, holding her breath as Joe crossed the threshold into the foyer. The opulence of the house could make people dizzy—or make them salivate. She’d seen both reactions from men she’d ushered inside—and either way, it had ended badly for her and not too great for them, either.

  Joe didn’t even blink an eyelash as he placed the hat on a bench in the entryway and touched her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale. Maybe you should sit down before chasing after that footage.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” She scooped up a remote control by the door and clicked a few buttons, turning on the lights in the kitchen. “I can bring up the security cam on my laptop.”

  Her heels tapped on the polished hardwood floor as she walked toward the kitchen, Joe dogging her steps as if he feared she’d keel over in a faint. Despite their cushy surroundings, Joe had to realize she was made of stronger stuff than that, although she didn’t know why she cared what Joe McVie thought.

  She flipped up the lid on her laptop and tapped the keyboard to wake it up. Her fingers hovered over the keys as Joe leaned over her shoulder.

  She flicked her fingers at him. “I’m going to enter my password now.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He circled around until his back was facing her.

  Typing in her password, she asked, “Do you want something to drink? I have beer and some white wine in the fridge.”

  “Just some water, please.”

  “Bottles are in the refrigerator.” She drummed her thumbs on the base of the computer. “I haven’t looked at this in a while.”

  “I can help you, if you need it.” Joe held up a water bottle. “Do you want one?”

  “No, thanks, but you can pour me a glass of that chardonnay that’s open. Glass in the cupboard to your right.”

  While Joe clinked through the glasses and poured her wine, she navigated to the security program and launched the footage.

  “Your wine.” Joe clicked the glass on the counter next to the computer and took up his previous position behind her, looking over her shoulder. He jabbed his finger at the screen. “You can get to the date there. Today’s date is the default.”

  “I’ve got it. Thanks for the wine.” She picked up the glass and raised it, tapping it against his plastic water bottle. “Here’s to success.”

  He repeated, “Success.”

  She sipped her wine as she double clicked today’s date and then scrolled through the day. “There’s my mail person. I don’t think she left it.”

  “You can jump to four o’clock. It had to be after that time.”

  “I’m getting there.” Hailey pursed her lips. She never did meet a man who wasn’t bossy. Then she sucked in a breath. “There he is. He left the hat just over an hour ago.”

  Joe hunched forward, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Damn. Looks like he knew he could be on camera.”

  Hailey froze the video and traced her finger around the black-clad figure with the ski mask pulled down over his face. “Not very helpful, is it? He’s even wearing gloves, so the police wouldn’t be able to pick up any fingerprints.”

  “I can’t even tell if it’s the same person who was following you on the wharf. He probably would’ve had enough time to beat us here.” Joe blew out a breath and her hair stirred against her cheek. “You’re still thinking about calling the cops? Where I come from, the cops would barely move for a dead body on your porch. A hat? They’d laugh in your face.”

  She twisted her head over her shoulder. “Where do you come from?”

  “South side of Boston, although it’s been a while since I’ve been back.”

  “Rough area?”

  “You could say that.” He leveled his finger at the display. “Let’s see what else he does.”

  She restarted the video and watched the disguised man—person—drop the hat on the porch, turn, jog down the steps and hit the sidewalk. “Nothing.”

  “You don’t have a camera pointing at the street?”

  “Not anymore. It broke and I never got around to fixing it. I doubt this guy would be dumb enough to drive up to the front of the house, anyway.”

  “You’re probably right.” Joe slammed his bottle on the counter next to her glass. “They’re warning you to keep your mouth shut about Marten and about the abduction in Syria—and you’re gonna do it.”

  She hooked her heels on the bar beneath the stool and snapped the laptop closed on the frozen image of Marten’s hat on her porch. “What about Major Denver?”

  “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it. You reported what you heard from your captors, and you told the truth. That’s all anyone can ask. That’s all I can ask.”

  “And Marten?”

  “He got mixed up in something he should’ve left alone.”

  “Wasn’t he just telling the truth?”

  “Was he?” Joe rubbed a hand across the sexy burnished-gold stubble on his jaw. “I don’t believe Marten did tell the truth. Someone got to him, and he lied to promote the Denver narrative. Who knows? Maybe he was paid off. Then he stopped playing the game, and that’s when he got into trouble.”

  Hailey traced a finger around the rim of her wineglass. “That sounds like Marten.”

  “Does it?”

  “Marten was a gambler. Last I heard, he was in debt. I wouldn’t put it past him to lie in exchange for money.”

  “What was a guy like that doing aiding refugees?”

  “He liked excitement.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure what he was doing in Syria, but I had my suspicions that he’d worked as a mercenary for the Kurds before joining us.”

  “What about the oth
ers? Ayala? The journalist? Your guide, Siddiqi?”

  “Ayala’s a nurse from Florida. She’s already back at the camp. Andrew is back in England writing other stories. Naraj is probably back at work. He’s a freelancer for hire. He escorts crazy Westerners around for a price.”

  Joe pinched his chin and stared over her head. “Convenient.”

  “Ah, no.” She waved her hand in front of his face to break his gaze. “Naraj didn’t betray us.”

  “How’d that group of thugs know you’d be on the road at that particular time?”

  “We weren’t far from the refugee camp when they took us. They were probably lying in wait for the first opportunity.”

  “But your car, the one eventually heading back to the camp. That explosion derailed the peace negotiations between the Syrian government and the rebels—each blaming each other and getting maximum propaganda points out of the carnage.”

  “I know.” Hailey put a hand over her aching heart.

  “You had no way of knowing your kidnappers were going to plant that bomb on your car.” He shoved her wineglass toward her, and the golden liquid inside sloshed and sparkled.

  Curling two fingers around the stem of the glass, she said, “It’s still hard not to feel responsible. We brought that death and destruction into the camp.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s nasty business out there.”

  Joe placed two fingers on the base of her glass, brushing her hand and causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

  Must be the emotions of the day that had her so susceptible to this Delta Force soldier on a mission. It couldn’t be his dark russet hair and rough-around-the-edges manner. That type hadn’t appealed to her since her teen years, when she’d been trying to get her father’s attention. It hadn’t worked anyway, and the guys ended up being as untrustworthy as the rich boys—just in a different way.

  She blinked. “Thanks. I don’t think Naraj betrayed us, though.”

  “Are you safe in this house?” Joe downed the rest of his water and screwed the lid back on the bottle.

  He was leaving her.

  “Yes, of course. In addition to the security cameras, there’s an alarm system.”