“That’s not likely. The chief and I didn’t hit it off too well when he detained me on the beach.”
Tex chuckled. “And so it begins.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
Brielle groaned. “Oh, jeez, now you’re just talking a bunch of romantic nonsense. Okay, let’s move on. Have you or Melody spoken to Faith lately? I tried calling her a couple of days ago, but her phone went straight to voicemail.”
“No, we haven’t. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. She sounded really strange the last time I spoke to her. You’re tracking her, right?” Tex tracked everyone in his close circle of friends.
He checked one of his computer screens. A red dot representing Faith indicated that she was at theChicago Sun-Times.
“Yeah, I’ve got her. She’s at work.”
“Maybe I’ll try calling her later on. I appreciate your looking out for her.”
“It’s what I do. Take care, Brielle. Say hi to Justice for me.” He laughed.
“Very funny.”
After she and Tex promised to keep in touch, Brielle resumed jogging. Within a few feet, however, she tripped and fell face forward onto the sand. Assuming she’d stumbled over a rock, Brielle sat up and looked around. Half buried in the sand she discovered a white box.
“What in the world?”
Only guessing what it might contain, she removed the loose, flowing tunic she wore over her sports bra and used it to pull the box out of the sand. There weren’t any labels on it, but she recognized its contents simply by the weight of the box. She decided to open it at home and rose to her feet, keeping the box carefully covered with her tunic. As she walked along the crowded beach, she searched for Justice but couldn’t find him. If what she suspected was correct, the chief ought to know about it.
Brielle stepped inside her large, modern kitchen a few minutes later and slid a sharp knife along the edge of the box. Wearing latex gloves, she flicked open the lid and let out a small gasp of astonishment even though she knew what she’d find?a cache of 100 round Beta C-mags.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “This can’t be good.”
She needed to inform Justice, but she was scheduled to teach a self-defense class at the YMCA in an hour. She locked the box of ammunition in her gun cabinet, showered, changed, and left the house.
* * *
Justice went off duty at five-thirty. He changed into a pair of camouflage cargo shorts and an old Navy T-shirt and flipflops and headed down to the beach again. As he passed Brielle’s house, he glanced up at the deck, but it was empty. He wanted to apologize to her for the debacle earlier that morning but was afraid she’d slam the door in his face.
Approaching one of the large rock formations that comprised the coast, he put Brielle out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Hoisting himself onto the rocks, he looked down and nearly lost his balance.
“What the fuck?” He reached into the crevice and pulled out a military grade assault rifle. His heart pounded as he considered the implications. “How the hell did an HK416 end up on my beach?”
Although it would expose his Glock tucked in the small of his back, Justice removed his T-shirt and wrapped it around the assault rifle in order to preserve any fingerprints or other trace evidence that might be on it and to avoid scaring any beach-goers he’d encounter on the way back to his house. Now, he knew for certain that the trucks he’d heard on the beach were real, and he wondered if their drivers were just playing around or if something more sinister was afoot.
A few observant people on the beach noticed the object he carried, and in spite of his badge pinned to the waistband of his cargo shorts, they shied away from him.
As Justice drew parallel to Brielle’s house, he heard her shout, “Hey, Beach Boy!” She gestured for him to join her.
His heart beat a little faster when he saw her. She looked hot in a long, flowing white skirt that sat low on her hips. A slit up the side revealed a shapely leg and thigh. The matching off-the-shoulder midriff she wore left a good deal of her torso bare, and his eyes devoured her.
Her gaze settled on his naked, muscular chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat and salt spray, and traveled downward, landing on his rock-hard abs.
Gesturing toward his T-shirt, she began, clearly uncomfortable, “Um, do you mind…?”
Justice chuckled low in his throat as he carefully set the assault rifle against the deck railing and pulled on his T-shirt. “Better?” he teased.
Brielle tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled as she offered a slow smile. “No. Just less of a distraction.” Growing serious, she added, “Where did you find the HK416?”
