talking about Ben, right?” Cam asked.
Ben Tanner was the newest member of the Corcoran Team and a former special agent for NCIS. The guy could shoot but he lacked the sniper skills of many on the team. And they never let him forget it. “Obviously.”
Cam stopped staring at Hope, and it looked like that took some control on his part. “Explain to me why you left her again? Because, gotta be honest, man, between the way she looks, the way she moves and that list of skills you just read off, I think I’m in love.”
“Get over it.”
Cam nodded, which he often did. “Ah, okay. Interesting.”
Hope’s white shirt got farther away. That meant one thing—the time for talk had ended. “Stop with that crap.”
Just as Joel lost sight of her, she peeked out from behind a massive tree trunk. “You guys coming?”
This time Cam laughed. “Your ex wants your attention.”
“Don’t call her that.” Correct or not, the term grated on Joel’s nerves. It meant she was free to find someone else, and even though he knew that was fair and the right thing, he despised the idea.
He’d spent the months away from her pretending he didn’t care when her father had called to alert him that she’d gone out on a date with this guy or that one. The old man was on a warped matchmaking mission. One that slowly broke Joel until he thought he’d go insane imagining her in bed with someone else.
“I am so happy I was available to fly you in for this op. Wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Cam clapped Joel on the back. “Not sure who will enjoy this more—the guys back at the Annapolis office or the guys on my traveling team. Tough call.”
Both options sucked for Joel. “I could hide your body out here.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
Because Cam came to Corcoran with the nickname “Lethal” and rumor was he’d flown Navy missions so secret just mentioning the operation names would bring the FBI running with guns firing, Joel decided to switch the subject. “And this is a favor for an old friend, not an op.”
“If a businessman is missing and someone is chasing your woman, it’s an op.” Cam didn’t wait around for an argument. He headed in the direction Hope indicated as the stalker’s path. “I’ll be over there, straining to hear every word.”
Joel took off after Hope. She’d stopped, and with his long stride, he caught up fast. When he drew close he saw her standing near a fallen tree, staring at the dirt.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She looked up, the anger obvious in her tight jaw and the flush of red on her cheeks. “My phone is gone.”
“I thought we already knew that.”
“No, I mean I had it in my hand while I was running—”
“You ran through this?”
“—and stumbled here. I dropped the phone and now it’s gone.”
There was no trail and no obvious signs of a path. Roots poked out of the ground, and the trees had grown to the point where they blanketed the area. Any sane person would watch her step. But she had run. Figured.
He thought about lecturing her but abandoned the idea when she bent down and started patting the rough terrain with her palm. Hope knew the outdoors, loved and cherished the openness. It was one of the things they had in common.
Still, a phone could only bounce so far. “Any chance you lost it somewhere else?”
“No.” She tried to reach her arm under the log. “I’m not exactly easy to spook. I know what I’m talking about.”
“But you are.”
She tugged on her arm but didn’t remove it or sit back up again. Twisting around, she looked up at him. “What?”
“Spooked.” And stuck. He wondered how long it would be before she admitted that. “Your pulse is racing and you’re jumpy. Not that long ago you were shaking and holding that knife like you were ready to slash anyone in your path.”
“Someone was chasing me.” She kept shifting and squirming. The heels of her boots dug into the dirt as she wrenched her shoulder.
Much more of this and she’d really injure herself. Any second now she’d ask for help. Well, most people would. With Hope, who knew?
He was ready to jump in. She just had to say the word, but he’d bet all the cash on him she wouldn’t.
“I get the chasing part,” he said.
She stopped moving around and shot him a big-eyed stare. “You don’t believe me.”
With Hope, he figured that was as close as he was going to get to a plea for help. He crouched and did the quick math on the best angle to pull her out without dislocating her shoulder. “I didn’t say that.”
“I am not a little girl who needs protecting. Your days of holding that job are over and, in case you missed it, I was never a little girl on your watch.”
“Oh, I noticed.” He jammed his fingers into the hard ground as dirt and peat moss slid under his nails. Ignoring the closeness and the way her arm brushed across his chest, he wedged his hand under hers and dug a shallow tunnel with his knuckles. “For the record, I noticed everything about you. Still do.”
Before he could add to the comment, footsteps echoed around him and boots appeared in front of his face. He strained to look up and got as far as the familiar utility pants.
“Our company is back,” Joel said into the relative quiet of the forest.
She tried to spin around and hissed when her trapped arm stopped her movements. It took another beat for her to get a word out. “Where?”
“He means me.” Cam dropped down to the balls of his feet with his body between Joel and Hope. “What are you two doing?”
With his hand caked with dirt, Joel wrapped his fingers around her bare arm and gave a quick pull. “Rescuing her.”
“I don’t need rescuing.” She popped free and fell back on her butt. Next she rubbed her shoulder joint. “Ouch.”
Joel refused to feel guilty for getting her unstuck when she’d been too stubborn to ask for his assistance. “Good thing you weren’t caught then.”
“Glad we cleared that up.” Cam stood. “She’s right about being followed. There are footprints over there.”
“Any clue about who or why?” Joel got to his feet and put a hand down, surprised when she took it to jump up next to him.
“Some interesting information.” Cam turned his camera around and flashed an image most people would think showed nothing but leaves but really showed an outline of a shoe. “Men’s size eleven. Probably a hundred-seventy pounds.”
She leaned in closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing. “You can tell that from a grainy picture?”
Cam nodded. “And your stalker is an overpronator.”
Joel had to smile at that. “Now you’re just showing off.”
Cam shrugged. “I’m good at my job.”
“Which is what again?” she asked.
No way was Joel entertaining an impromptu debriefing in the middle of an isolated forest. Protocol was very clear. The Corcoran Team operated on a need-to-know basis.
To the world they provided risk assessments and moved in to help if things went wrong. Important but not the complete story. The definition missed the reality of the constant danger and huge amount of shooting.
Fact was, telling the woman