Page 28 of The Deadly Shallows

“Thanks.” Sweating was a lot less embarrassing than explaining that one.

He slid the strap across her good shoulder ever so gently, settling the purse on her hip—his fingers brushed across it in the most innocent of touches, but gooseflesh rippled across her skin all the same.

Her hair still cupped in his other hand, he released his hold, his fingers dancing across her neck.

She took a shaky inhale, and he didn’t move.

Why wasn’t he moving? Was she that obvious? Mortification set in. “Ready?” she asked, her voice coming out in a high-pitched twang. She cleared her throat. “I mean, ready?” she said, forcing her voice lower. Probably too low.

“Mmm-hmm.” He exhaled.

The riff from “Sweet Home Alabama” sounded, and Noah lifted his phone from the tray table. No one called this early unless something was wrong. He frowned as the number registered as coming from on base.

“Rowley,” he answered, shutting off the early morning news.

“Hi, Noah. It’s Derek Greer.”

Noah straightened. “How are you, Chief Greer?”

“You can call me Derek. We’ve known each other long enough,” he said in his raspy voice.

Nicest guy, but he’d seen his share of combat and carried himself like a soldier who had.

“How can I help you, Derek?”

“First things first. How’s the leg? I heard you were shot.”

“Sore but good. Though I’m being held hostage at the hospital for another twenty-four hours.”

“I’m glad you’re good, but always listen to the doc.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Derek,” he reiterated.

“Derek. How can I help you?”

“I need one of your personnel, the top one you’d recommend in your stead, to come down to the lab.”

That certainly didn’t indicate anything good. Not at this hour. Not at Chief Greer’s request.

Who should he send? His entire team was stellar—each with their own areas of expertise.

“Sir . . . Derek, is it possible for you to give me the scope of the situation? My team members excel in different areas.”

“Fair enough, but I’m afraid I can’t discuss this matter in any detail over an unsecured line.”

The muscles in Noah’s shoulders constricted, tension hitting his frame. That really didn’t sound good. “Understood,” he said, frustrated to be restricted to the hospital walls. “I’ll send Agent Eason.”

“How soon can he be at the Kellen building?” Greer asked, an unsettling urgency in his voice.

“I’ll call him now and send him right over.”

“Great. And send your CSI guy too. I’ll meet them out front.”

His mind racing through the possibilities of Greer’s inquiry, Noah dialed Caleb.

“Eason. How are you doing, boss?”