Free Echoes by Laura K. Curtis Page A

the only name the press ever got was my cover.”
    His voice had lost some of its intensity, and when Callie looked at him, he didn’t turn his head. She assumed he’d divided his attention between the road and his memories, trying to figure out how his friend had become aware of his injury.
    â€œDo you have friends in common? Maybe from your days in the Army?”
    â€œNo one who should have been keeping track.”
    And wasn’t that just the closemouthed answer she could have expected from him. But she had to admit that his private life, his friends, they weren’t any of her business. She switched back to the original topic, thankful Marigot was close to the hotel.
    â€œSo what did you think of St. Martin when you got here?”
    One side of his mouth tipped up, and her throat dried as it had when he’d grasped her hand. God, the man simply oozed sex appeal without even trying.
    â€œHot,” he said, and for a minute, she thought he was echoing her own thoughts. She felt a blush rise into her face, then realized he had merely answered her question.
    â€œSurely it was hot in Georgia.”
    â€œYup. And in Afghanistan, too. But you asked what I thought of the island.” He shot her an unreadable look. “Everything about this place is hot. And wet.”
    Callie tensed to keep from squirming in her seat. The way he said the words, he couldn’t be unaware of the double entendre. Her blood suddenly pulsed very close to the surface of her skin.
    â€œWell,” she said, striving for a lighter note. “It certainly is beautiful.”
    â€œOh, yeah.” He took his eyes from the road long enough to sweep over her body. “It certainly is.”
    Which effectively put an end to her ability to speak.
    ***
    Mac had no idea why he felt compelled to tease Callie. Maybe just because he hadn’t seen a woman blush in such a long time. Maybe because her reaction assured him the sexual charges running along his nerves every time he looked at her weren’t entirely one-sided. Either way, by the time they reached the village, his mood had improved.
    He’d arranged with Michel Vichy to meet them at the station. The gendarme welcomed them, but examined Callie with eyes both curious and critical.
    â€œI understand some items were removed from your room yesterday.”
    Callie glared at Mac, who threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t make the call.”
    â€œ
Non
. Monsieur Lewis telephoned. May I ask why you did not?”
    â€œIt wasn’t important, and I probably won’t be here long enough for you to catch the thief.”
    â€œYou have very little faith in our abilities.” Mac wondered whether Michel had added the hint of defensiveness to try to get a rise out of Callie, or whether he really was offended. Either way, it immediately set Callie aflutter. She didn’t, apparently, enjoy making people feel small. She kept surprising him; he’d have to stop judging her by Nicole’s yardstick.
    â€œNo, no. That’s not it at all. But surely more serious cases occupy your attention.”
    â€œEvery case is serious. The island relies on tourists. We cannot have them robbed at every turn. But the choice is yours, of course, if you choose to ignore the theft.”
    â€œEither way works for me. I’m happy to fill out the paperwork to make the report, but replacing the laptop and the jewelry won’t cost more than flying back here and finding a hotel for the duration of the trial. And whether you’d need me here for that or not, I’d want to come.”
    Michel nodded, accepting her explanation far more readily than Mac did. DNA collection took all of ten minutes, including the time Callie spent filling in the permission forms that required her address and phone number, both of which Mac memorized on the spot.
    Michel engaged Callie in casual conversation during the process, slipping