Alpha Bravo Seal. Carol Ericson

hypnotized her.”

      “Yeah, we learn that in Navy SEAL training.”

      She widened her eyes, and then pursed her lips. “Liar. We still have time for a quick bite to eat.”

      “How far are you from SoHo?”

      “It’s about a half hour in a taxi.” She plucked her neoprene running shirt from her chest. “I’m not changing. I never ran, anyway.”

      “The guy takes pictures of naked people. I don’t think he’s going to care what you’re wearing.”

      He hadn’t moved from the doorway, so she brushed past him and wished she hadn’t. She had to admit to herself that she’d been attracted to Slade from the minute she’d seen him pass by the door of the infirmary on that ship. She hadn’t told the guys at the time, but she’d had a feeling he’d been the SEAL sniper who’d rescued her.

      They just would’ve laughed at her and accused her of falling for another adventure junkie. She’d had her share of mountain climbers, skydivers, big-wave surfers and even a Wall Street trader, but a Navy SEAL topped them all.

      Once her pulse returned to normal, she called over her shoulder, “Sandwich?”

      “Whatever’s easy. We need to head out of here soon.”

      She slapped together a couple of sandwiches, and they finished them on the way to the lobby.

      Leo jumped into action when he saw them. “Have a good one.”

      “We will.” Nicole almost bounded to the taxi. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on that film and turn it over to the Navy or whoever would ultimately take control of it. Maybe they’d even return it to her one day so she could make that film and honor Lars and Giles.

      The heavy traffic delayed them ten minutes, but Paul was waiting for them at his loft.

      After introducing Slade as a friend and then shaking his hand, Paul gave her a long hug. “I can’t believe our Lars is gone.”

      “Did he say anything to you when he left you the note for me and the footage?” She extricated herself from Paul’s bear hug.

      He cocked his head to the side. “Footage? I just have the photos, Nicole.”

      Her gaze darted to Slade and back to Paul. “Photos?”

      “Of course. I thought you’d want them.” He crossed the large open room, his black-and-white photographs adorning the walls. He picked up a folder from a table and raised it in the air as he strolled back to her. “These.”

      She flipped open the folder and bit down hard on her lip as she stared at a black-and-white photo of her and Lars, heads together, deep in conversation.

      “I took those the night of the party, before we all got crazy.”

      She shuffled through the remaining photos with a sharp pain piercing her heart. Hugging the pictures to her chest, she asked, “Was he in New York recently?”

      “He was here a few months ago. Did you miss him, too?”

      “I’ve been in the city for just about three weeks. Does that mean you didn’t see him when he was here?”

      “I didn’t, and that makes me very sad, especially when I think I could’ve done something to help him.”

      Slade stepped back from a collection of photos he’d been studying on the wall. “Do you know why he was in New York? Did he see any of your other friends?”

      “Funding for his next project, I think.” Paul tugged on his earlobe, which had several piercings. “But he did visit Dave Pullman. You might remember him. He was at the party—dark curly hair, actor.”

      “Davey. He was pouring the drinks.” A thrill ran up her spine, but she avoided looking at Slade to share her excitement. The less Paul knew about their mission, the better.

      “Davey, yes. Lars and his nicknames.”

      “Do you have Dave’s address and phone number?” As Paul raised his pale eyebrows at her, she stammered, “I—I have something I want to give to him, something I want to share. We didn’t have a chance to go to Lars’s funeral or a memorial for him, so it’s important for his friends to remember him.”

      “Exactly why I wanted to give you those pictures.” He held up one finger. “One minute.”

      He pivoted toward his desk, which must’ve doubled as his office, and scooped up his phone. He tapped it a few times and read off a phone number for Dave and an address on the Lower East Side. “I’m sure Dave will be happy to see you.”

      “Thank you so much for the pictures, Paul.”

      “Absolutely.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked her up and down and then turned his gaze to Slade. “Would you two be interested in doing some modeling for me?”

      They both answered “no” at the same time.

      Five minutes later, they stood on the sidewalk in front of Paul’s building. Nicole held out the folder of pictures to Slade. “Do you mind holding these while I call Dave? I don’t want them spilling out.”

      “They’re good pictures. The guy has talent.”

      “Not enough to entice you to pose for him?”

      “Nope.”

      A smile tugged on her lips as she selected Dave’s number from her contacts. She’d pay good money to see a nude black-and-white photo of Slade Gallagher.

      The phone rang once on the other end and then rolled into a recording. She puckered her lips and puffed out a breath. “His number’s no longer in service.”

      “Damn. I wonder if it has anything to do with Lars.”

      “We still have his address. Should we pay him a visit?”

      “We’re close, right?”

      “We could walk, or it’s a ten-minute taxi ride as long as we don’t get snarled in traffic—and here’s one now.” She raised her hand at two oncoming taxis, and the second one swerved up to the curb.

      Ten minutes later, the driver dumped them off at the end of Broome, where she told him to stop. “It’s easier to walk down this street.”

      They found Dave’s building, an old brick structure squeezed between a bakery and a taco shop. Nicole placed one foot on the first step and gripped the iron railing. “If he’s not there, should we wait?”

      “You can leave him a note. Maybe the bakery has some paper or a napkin to write on, but give it a try.”

      With Slade close behind her, she stepped up on the porch and reached for the bell. Before she could press it, the door swung open and a dark-haired man carrying a bicycle on his shoulder squeezed by them.

      Slade reached past her to catch the door before it closed, but something about the man’s hair had her jerking her head to the side.

      He’d set the bike on the sidewalk, and his eyes met hers with a flicker of recognition.

      “Dave? Davey?” She descended the step and moved beside him. “I’m Nicole...”

      She didn’t get a chance to finish, because Davey Pullman threw his bike at her and took off running down the street.