Aimpoint by Candace Irving (best mystery novels of all time .TXT) 📗

when he finds out he fucked one?" The sergeant's whistle was as low and taunting as that laugh had been. "Pissed won't begin to cover it."

"I—"

"Don't bother denying it. The captain was so into you, he forgot to close the blinds. Saw it all, Chief. Right up to the moment he scooped you up and sprinted down the hall for seconds. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm glad he got some. It's been a while. And I hope you enjoyed it too, because that man is never, ever gonna forgive you."

She turned her back on LaCroix's latest laugh—and the awkward pity in Jelly's carefully averted stare—and headed for her car.

She had no idea if any of the other soldiers or German police had heard, let alone understood. Nor did she want to know.

Hell, she couldn't even drive back to John's house. Even if she had been eager to confess all, apologies and explanations would have to wait. She had a suspect to process. Paperwork to file, and a case to wrap up.

By the time Regan tossed her 9mm into the Tiguan and crawled in after, she could see Karmandi handing off the baby to his wife amid the still-flashing strobes across the street. The doc removed his housecoat next, revealing a set of gray sweats. He passed the robe off too—this time to a waiting policeman—then reached out to smooth a strand of dark, sleep-mussed hair behind his wife’s ear. He leaned close to give her a kiss before turning to follow a camouflaged soldier to a desert-sand truck. Within minutes, he'd be at the station, providing his statement.

His father-in-law wouldn't be far behind.

Hell, Ertonç might already be there. She'd know soon enough.

With the keys still in the Tiguan's ignition, Regan fired it up and executed a tight u-turn off the cobbled walkway and onto the now blocked-off road that led to Hohenfels. She could feel the effects of the sustained rush as the adrenaline began to ebb from her blood. She needed to get back on post and into her office at CID, and soon—before the brunt of the withdrawal hit.

She made it in the nick of time, though not quite as far as she'd hoped. She was pulling into the parking lot and past yet another cluster of desert-sand trucks and Humvees when the tremors began.

As she killed the VW's engine, she spotted Mira's profile just before the NCIS agent turned into the building, along with another soldier from the protective detail. Ertonç had arrived, then. She needed to get in there too. Take the general's statement personally. She owed Ertonç that much.

Hell, she owed John.

Unfortunately, she couldn't risk climbing out of the car. Not with the shakes hitting so hard her teeth had begun to chatter. She lowered her forehead and pressed it into the steering wheel as she willed them to cease.

They grew worse.

What if she'd been wrong about that gift tag? Where would Karmandi, his son and that days-old bundle be then?

Damn it, she hadn't been wrong. The Karmandis were okay.

All of them.

NATO was okay, too. For now.

She closed her eyes and dragged her breath in, then slowly pushed it out. Over and over, until the chattering and trembling eased.

Only then did she peel her forehead from the steering wheel. She caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror and blanched.

She still had bedhead from, well, bed.

She grabbed her leather bag from the passenger seat and located a hairband from within. She scraped the tangled strands up into an oversized, makeshift bun and used the thick band to secure it. Plumbing the depths of the bag once more, she retrieved the 9mm's holster and her CID badge, along with two evidence bags.

The sticky note and florist receipt from John's kitchen went into the latter, separately.

It was time.

Hooking her 9mm and gold shield to the waistband of her jeans, she purged the remainder of her doubts as she grabbed the evidence bags and bailed out of the car.

Her phone pinged as she entered the building.

The text was from Mira, letting her know she was at the station, along with the general. But there was another notification on the screen too. An older one that'd come in during that frantic drive to Vilseck. This one was from John.

everything ok? call me

"Agent Chase?"

Regan flinched. She clicked off her phone and shoved it in her back pocket as she turned toward the young, black MP headed up the hall. "Yes, Corporal?"

"The witness parade's begun, and it's already gettin' hairy. Agent Jellin's not back yet. I texted Capt'n Brooks, but he must still be in with the post commander, because he hasn't answered neither. Sergeant Hernandez didn't want him waitin' any longer so he went in, but we're not sure how much to say."

No surprise there. Turkish or not, a general was still a general. No wonder Hernandez was stressed. "I'll handle it. Which room?"

The corporal tipped his buzz cut to the door slightly behind him and off his right. "Should I bring coffee?"

With the adrenaline purged from her blood, she'd have crawled back to Hohenfels on her hands and knees to accept it. Unfortunately, her pending caffeinated status depended on the general's wishes, not hers.

"I'll let you know." She stepped past the MP and pushed through the door to the interview room. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. Captain Brooks is—"

The rest jammed up at the middle of her throat as she spotted the massive, tee shirt-clad back seated across the table from Hernandez. The titanic torso and solid shoulders within did not belong to Ertonç.

They belonged to John.

For some reason, he was here at the station, turning to stare at her, as utterly stunned as she. Scratch that; he was definitely more stunned. Until he stood and swung his entire body around to take hers in. She watched as suspicion crashed through the confusion, only to give way to damning comprehension—and the ice-cold anger she'd seen in this man once before. In his drive two nights