Suzanne Brockmann – Tall, Dark and Deadly: Get Lucky (страница 11)

Bobby laughed. “Just Bobby. Some guys during BUD/S tried to call me Tonto, which I objected to somewhat…forcefully.” He flexed his fists meaningfully.

Bobby was a good-looking man despite the fact that his nose had been broken four or five too many times. He was darkly handsome, with high cheekbones, craggy features, and deep-brown eyes that broadcast his mother’s Native American heritage. He had a quiet calmness to him, a Zen-like quality that was very attractive.

And then there was his size. Massive was the word for the man. Some women really went for that. Of course, if Bobby wasn’t careful to keep up his PT and his diet, he’d quickly run to fat.

“I considered Tonto politically incorrect,” Bobby said mildly. “So I made sure the name didn’t stick.”

Bobby’s fists were the size of canned hams. No doubt he’d been extremely persuasive in his objections.

“These days the Lieutenant here is fond of calling me Stimpy,” Bob continued, “which is the name of a really stupid cartoon cat.” He looked down at his hands and flexed his hot-dog-sized fingers again. “I’ve yet to object, but it’s getting old.”

“No,” Lucky said. “It’s because Wes—” he turned to Syd. “Bobby’s swim buddy is this little wiry guy named Wes Skelly, and visually, well, Ren and Stimpy just seems to fit. It’s that really nasty cartoon that—”

“Wes isn’t little,” Lucy interrupted. “He’s as tall as Blue, you know.”

“Yeah, but next to Gigantor here—”

“I like Gigantor,” Bobby decided.

Syd was laughing, and Lucky knew from the way the chief was smiling at her that he was completely charmed, too. Maybe that was the way to win Syd’s alliance. Maybe she could be Bobby’s girlfriend.

The thought was not a pleasant one, and he dismissed it out of hand. Charming women was his strength, damn it, and he was going to charm Sydney Jameson if it was the last thing he did.

Lucy got down to business. “You talk to Frisco?” she asked him.

Lucky nodded grimly. “I did. Do you think it’s possible Stonegate doesn’t really want us to apprehend the rapist?”

“Why? What happened?” Syd demanded.

“Lieutenant Commander Francisco got called in to meet with Admiral Stonegate,” Lucy explained. “Ron Stonegate’s not exactly a big fan of the SEAL teams.”

“What’d Stonehead do this time?” Bobby asked.

“Easy on the insults,” Lucky murmured. He glanced at Syd, wishing she weren’t a reporter, knowing that anything they said could conceivably end up in a news story. “We’ve been ordered by the…admiral to use this assignment as a special training operation,” he said, choosing his words carefully, leaving out all the expletives and less-than-flattering adjectives he would have used had she not been there, “for a trio of SEAL candidates who are just about to finish up their second phase of BUD/S.”

“King, Lee and Rosetti,” Bobby said, nodding his approval.

Lucky nodded. Bobby had been working as an instructor with this particular group of candidates right from the start of phase one. He wasn’t surprised the chief should know the men in question.

“Tell me about them,” Lucky commanded. He’d made a quick stop at the base and had pulled the three candidates’ files after he’d talked to Frisco and before he’d picked up Heather. But you could only tell so much about a man from words on a piece of paper. He wanted to hear Bobby’s opinion.

“They were all part of the same boat team during phase one,” Bobby told him. “Mike Lee’s the oldest and a lieutenant, Junior Grade, and he was buddied up with Ensign Thomas King—a local kid, much younger. African American. Both have IQs that are off the chart, and both have enough smarts to recognize each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It was a good match. Petty Officer Rio Rosetti, on the other hand, is barely twenty-one, barely graduated from high school, struggles to spell his own name, but he can build anything out of nothing. He’s magic. He was out in a skiff and the propeller snagged a line and one of the blades snapped. He took it apart, built a new propeller out of the junk that was on board. They couldn’t move fast, but they could move. It was impressive.

“Rosetti’s swim buddy bailed during the second day of Hell Week,” Bobby continued, “and Lee and King took him in. He returned the favor a few days later, when Lee started hallucinating. He was seeing evil spirits and not taking it well, and King and Rosetti took turns sitting on him. The three of them have been tight ever since. King and Lee spend nearly all their off time tutoring Rosetti. With their help, he’s managed to stay with the classroom program.” He paused. “They’re good men, Lieutenant.”

It was good to hear that.

Still. “Turning a mission this serious into a training op makes about as much sense as sticking the team with Lois Lane, here,” Lucky said.

“Twelve hours, seventeen minutes,” Syd said. “Hah.”

He blinked at her, temporarily distracted. “Hah? What hah?”

“I knew when you found out that I was a reporter it was only a matter of time before you used the old Lois Lane cliché,” she told him. Her attitude wasn’t quite smug, but it was a touch too gleeful to be merely matter-of-fact. “I figured twenty-four, but you managed in nearly half the time. Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

“Lois Lane,” Bobby mused. “Shoot, it’s almost as bad as Tonto.”

“It’s not very original,” even Lucy agreed.

“Can we talk about this case please?” Lucky said desperately.

“Absolutely,” Lucy said. “Here’s my late-breaking news. Four more women have come forward since Sydney’s article appeared in the paper this morning. Four.” She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know why some women don’t report sexual assault when it happens.”

“Is it our guy?” Syd asked. “Same MO?”

“Three of the women were branded with the budweiser. Those three attacks took place within the past four weeks. The fourth was earlier. I’m certain the same perp was responsible for all four attacks,” Lucy told them. “And frankly, it’s a little alarming that the severity of the beatings he gives his victims seems to be increasing.”

“Any pattern among the victims as to location, physical appearance, anything?” Lucky asked.

“If there is, we can’t find anything other than that the victims are all females between the ages of eighteen and forty-three, and the attacks all took place in either San Felipe or Coronado,” the detective replied. “I’ll get you the complete files first thing in the morning. You might as well try searching for a pattern, too. I don’t think you’re going to find one, but it sure beats sitting around waiting for this guy to strike again.”

Bobby’s pager went off. He glanced at it as he shut it off, then stood. “If that’s all for now, Lieutenant…”

Lucky gestured with his head toward the pager. “Anything I should know about?”

“Just Wes,” the bigger man said. “It’s been a rough tour for him. Coronado’s the last place he wanted to be, and he’s been here for nearly three months now.” He nodded at Sydney. “Nice meeting you. See you later, Luce.” He turned back. “Do me a favor and lock your windows tonight, ladies.”

“And every night until we catch this guy,” Lucky added as the chief headed for the door. He stood up. “I’m going to take off, too.”

“See you tomorrow.” Syd barely even looked at him as she turned to Lucy. “Are you in a hurry to get home, detective? Because I have some questions I was hoping you could answer.”

Lucky lingered, but aside from a quick wave from Lucy, neither woman gave him a second glance.

“I did some research on sex crimes and serial rapists and serial murderers,” Syd continued, “and—”

“And you’re thinking about what I said about the level of violence escalating,” Lucy finished for her. “You want to know if I think this guy’s going to cross the line into rape-homicide.”

Oh, God, Lucky hadn’t even considered that. Rape alone was bad enough.

Lucy sighed. “Considering the abuse the perp seems to enjoy dishing out, in my opinion, it could be just a matter of time before he—”

“Heads up,” Syd said in a low voice. “Barbie’s coming this way.”

Barbie?

Lucky looked up to see Heather heading toward them. Her body in motion made heads turn throughout the entire room.

She was gorgeous, but she was plastic. Kind of like a Barbie doll. Yeah, the name fit.

He wanted to stay, wanted to hear what Lucy and Syd had to say, but he’d saddled himself with Heather, and now he had to pay the price.

He had to take her home.

With Heather, there was always a fifty-fifty chance she’d invite him up to her place and tear off his clothes. Tonight she’d made a few suggestive comments at dinner that led him to believe it was, indeed, going to be one of those nights where they engaged in a little pleasure gymnastics.

“Ready to go home?” Heather smiled at him, a smile loaded with promise. A smile he knew that Syd had not missed.

Good. Let her know that he was going to get some tonight. Let her know he didn’t need her to make fireworks.

“Absolutely.” Lucky put his arm around her waist.

He glanced at Syd, but she was already back to her discussion with Lucy, and she didn’t look up.

As Heather dragged him to the door, Lucky knew he was the envy of every man in the bar. He was going home with a beautiful woman who wanted to have wild sex with him.