Free Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) by Geri Krotow

Operations or practice scenarios, but Brad was probably familiar with all the possible circumstances under which the Navy trained.
    “I was at the boat rental place two days ago, ready to get my own little powerboat to take me out to the prearranged area, when it occurred to me that I’d be better off using my own equipment. If anything was going to happen at sea, I wouldn’t be able to prevent it, but I trust the ability of the aircraft carrier and her ship’s company to do their jobs. I certainly couldn’t protect them.”
    “What are you most worried about?”
    “That’s classified.”
    Joy shook the bottle into which she’d mixed oil, vinegar, lemon juice and salt. When she finished, she poured a generous amount over the ready-made salad she’d bought.
    “Save the classified routine for someone else, Brad. I’m the one risking my neck getting classified information for you, remember? What about your boss? Can you contact him now?”
    “I could use your phone, as you suggested. But I’d rather not. I’m pretty damn sure that everyone’s calls on this side of the island are being monitored. So if a call went into the Bureau from either your landline or your cell, it would immediately pop up. I don’t want to bring anyone into this, no matter how legit they are.”
    “Maybe you should calm down and be a little more trusting of the process.”
    “I trust no one.”
    Joy washed her hands and looked out her kitchen window at the windswept coastline. The emergency vehicles of this morning were gone, but she knew Brad was correct. Several lookouts had been assigned to keep an eye on the beach for whatever—or whoever—washed up in the next few days. She didn’t have to see them to know it.
    They were looking for the domestic terrorists whose group Brad had infiltrated.
    She shuddered. The thought of American citizens willingly working for such an evil cause gave her the creeps.
    Brad was a solid military man who now worked for the FBI. He wasn’t going to emerge from his undercover role until he had the answers he needed. That they
all
needed to ensure the safety of the base and surrounding area.
    “I’m going to get into more comfortable clothes,” she told him. “Please help yourself to some of this and I’ll be right back. We have to come up with an action plan.” She pointed to the dish of crudités and hummus she’d prepared and left on the dining room table.
    “I’ve kept myself occupied all day. I think I can manage another five minutes.” He walked over to the table. “Wow, you’ve fixed us a regular feast.”
    “It’s the least I can do to support my local counter-terrorist undercover FBI agent.”
    “Well, not the
least
.”
    Joy didn’t react to his comment—she wasn’t sure he realized he’d said it so loudly.
    Brad’s tone was steady, the same level voice she remembered from Norfolk. But his expression was worrying. It wasn’t the five o’clock shadow or the rumpled hair. They’d worked long hours together with few breaks and had seen each other at their worst.
    It was the faraway look in his eyes. As if he was there physically, talking to her, but his mind was preoccupied with figuring out a puzzle.
    She’d have to help him get to the bottom of it. Especially since she preferred her yoga pants and T-shirt to an orange jumpsuit.
    * * *
    T HEY SAT WITH half a bottle of wine unfinished between them as she took notes and Brad leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. She’d left the dinner plates in the sink for later, much as that pained her. What they were doing was more important.
    “You must know something or you saw something downrange that’s incriminating to whoever wants General Grimes, and maybe you, dead. Let’s list all your missions and detachments. Anything you think was suspicious about them.”
    Brad actually laughed, a rumble from deep in his chest. It seemed to echo in her dining room.
    “The real question is what mission
wasn’t
suspicious or