Suzanne Brockmann - Tall, Dark and Deadly - Get Lucky

Syd thought he was coming to talk to Luke, but he headed straight for the little girl on the bike.

“Are you crazy?” His less-than-friendly greeting was accompanied by a scowl. “What did I tell you about riding your bike out here alone? And that was before this psycho-on-the-loose crap.”

“No one wanted to ride all the way out here with me.” Tasha lifted her chin. They were both speaking loudly enough for Syd to easily overhear. “Besides, I’m fast. If I see any weirdos, I can get away, no problem.”

Sweat was literally pouring off the young man’s face as he bent over to catch his breath, hands on his knees. “You’re fast,” he repeated skeptically. “Faster than a car?”

She was exasperated. “No.”

“No.” He glared at her. “Then it’s not no problem, is it?”

“I don’t see what the big deal—”

The black man exploded. “The big deal is that there’s some son-of-a-bitch psycho running around town raping and beating the hell out of women. The big deal is that, as a female, you’re a potential target. As a pretty, young female who’s riding her bike alone, you’re an attractive, easy target. You might as well wear a sign around your neck that says victim.”

“I read this guy breaks into women’s homes,” Tasha countered. “I don’t see what that has to do with me riding my bike.”

Syd couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “Actually,” she said, “serial rapists tend to do something called troll for victims. That means they drive around and look for a likely target—someone who’s alone and potentially defenseless—and they follow her home. It’s possible once they pick a victim, they follow her for several days or even weeks, searching for the time and place she’s the most vulnerable. Just because all of the other attacks we know about occurred in the victims’ homes doesn’t mean he’s not going to pull his next victim into the woods.”

“Thank you, voice of reason,” the young man said. He gave Tasha a hard look. “Hear that, wild thing? Uncle Lucky’s girlfriend here sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.”

Uncle Lucky’s girlfriend…? “Oh,” Syd said. “No. I’m not his—”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” The girl was exasperated and indignant. “Stay home all day?”

Tasha and her friend were back to their fight, intently squaring off, neither of them paying any attention to Syd’s protests.

Luke, however, cleared his throat. Syd didn’t dare look at him.

“Yes,” the young man answered Tasha’s question just as fiercely and without hesitation. “Until this is over, yes. Stay home.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “But, Thomas—”

“How many times in the years that we’ve been friends have I ever asked you for a favor, princess?” Thomas asked, his voice suddenly quiet, but no less intense. “I’m asking for one now.”

Tears welled suddenly in Tasha’s eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I needed to see you. After hearing about that diving accident…”

The harsh lines of his face softened slightly. “I’m fine, baby.”

“I see that,” she said. “Now.”

Syd turned away, aware that she was watching them, afraid that her curiosity about their relationship was written all over her face. Thomas had to be in his twenties, and Tasha was only in her teens. He’d referred to them as friends, but it didn’t take a genius-level IQ to see that the girl’s attachment to this man was much stronger. But he was being careful not to touch her, careful to use words like friends , careful to keep his distance.

“How about I call you?” he suggested, kindly. “Three times a week, a few minutes before 2100—nine o’clock? Check in and let you know how I’m doing. Would that work?”

Tasha chewed on her lower lip. “Make it five times a week, and you’ve got a deal.”

“I’ll try for four,” he countered. “But—”

She shook her head. “Five.”

He looked at her crossed arms, at the angle of her tough-kid chin and assumed the same pose. “Four . But I don’t get every evening off, you know, so some weeks it might be only three. But if I get weekend liberty, I’ll drop by, okay? In return, you’ve got to promise me you don’t go anywhere alone until this bad guy is caught.”

She gave in, nodding her acceptance, gazing up at him as if she were memorizing his face.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“I promise.”

“I promise, too,” he said then glanced at his watch. “Damn, I gotta go.”

He turned, focusing on Luke and Syd as if for the first time. “Hey, Uncle Lucky. Drive Tasha home.”

It was, without a doubt, a direct order. Luke saluted. “Yes, sir, Ensign King, sir.”

Thomas’s harshly featured face relaxed into a smile that made him look his age. “Sorry, Lieutenant,” he said. “I meant, please drive Tasha home, sir . It’s not safe right now for a young woman to ride all that distance alone.”

Luke nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you, sir.” The young man pointed his finger at Tasha. “I don’t want to see you here again. At least not without Mia or Frisco.”

And he was gone, lifting his hand in a farewell as he ran back to the rest of his class.

Luke cleared his throat. “Tash, you mind hanging for a minute? I’ve got—”

The girl had already moved down the beach, out of earshot. She sat in the sand, arms around her knees, watching the SEAL candidates. Watching Thomas.

“I’ve got to finish this really important discussion I was having with my girlfriend,” Luke finished, purely for Syd’s benefit.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not funny.”

“Damn,” he said with a smile. “I was hoping I could get you to squawk again. ‘I’m not his girlfriend,’” he imitated her badly.

“Also not funny.”

His smile widened. “Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s—”

“Let’s call it a healthy difference of opinions and let it go at that.”

Syd closed her mouth and nodded. Fair enough.

He looked out over the glistening ocean, squinting slightly against the glare. “The reason I wanted you to see this, you know, BUD/S, was to give you a look at the teamwork that takes place in the SEAL units.”

“I know you think I’m going to get in your way over the next few days or weeks,” Syd started. “But—”

Luke cut her off. “I know you’ll get in my way,” he countered. “When was the last time you ran a seven-and-a-half minute mile?”

“Never, but—”

“The way I see it, we can make this work by utilizing your strengths and being completely honest about your weaknesses.”

“But—” This time Syd cut her own self off. Did he say make this work?

“Here’s what I think we should do,” Luke said. He was completely serious. “I think we should put you to work doing what you do best. Investigative reporting. Research. I want you to be in charge of finding a pattern, finding something among the facts we know that will bring us closer to the rapist.”

“But the police are already doing that.”

“We need to do it, too.” The breeze off the ocean stirred his already tousled hair. “There’s got to be something they’ve missed, and I’m counting on you to find it. I know you will, because I know how badly you want to catch this guy.” He gazed back at the ocean. “You, uh, kind of gave that away in Lana Quinn’s office.”

“Oh,” Syd said. “God.” What else had she said or done? She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“We’re both on the same page, Syd,” Luke said quietly, intensely. “I really want to catch this guy, too. And I’m willing to have you on my team, but only if you’re willing to be a team player. That means you contribute by using your strengths—your brain and your ability to research. And you contribute equally by sitting back and letting the rest of us handle the physical stuff. You stay out of danger. We get a lead, you stay back at the base or in the equipment van. No arguments. You haven’t trained for combat, you haven’t done enough PT to keep up, and I won’t have you endanger the rest of the team or yourself.”