Unstoppable (Tracers, #2.5)(2)
Author: Laura Griffin

“Amazing. This is amazing.” She fisted her hand on her hip in frustration. “I told her when she e-mailed me that article that she’s way overreacting.”

“You’re telling me some woman didn’t get dragged from her car and shot, not twenty miles from where you are?”

“People get shot all the time! You live in San Diego, for Christ’s sake. It happens every day!”

Another pause, and she could picture her father’s brother frowning down at the phone. She was being disrespectful, and if there was one thing Lieutenant Commander Joseph Quinn had harped on her entire life it was respect.

“Joe, really. I’m fine. And I’m definitely not alone. I’m out here with dozens of people—”

“Camping by yourself at night, though, right? Just you and that seventy-two-year-old professor?”

“We’re in campers,” she said, hoping he picked up on the plural. Did he really think she was shacked up with Dr. Robles? Eew.

Kelsey glanced around impatiently. A trio of students stood at one of the tables, their heads bowed over various labeling tasks while they pretended not to eavesdrop. Kelsey needed to wrap this up. At twenty-eight, she was considered a mere toddler in academic circles, and she already had enough trouble getting students to take her seriously. Her kick-ass job at a world-renowned forensics lab, which set her apart from the rest of the university faculty, was her saving grace. But even her job at the Delphi Center couldn’t salvage her reputation if word got out that her mommy had been calling her at a dig to fret over safety.

“Listen, Joe, I appreciate the call. I really do—”

“I’m sending someone out there,” he bowled right over her. “He should be there today, about sixteen hundred.”

Four heads turned as a car rumbled up the dirt road leading to the dig site.

Sixteen hundred. Kelsey’s mind reeled. She clutched the phone to her ear and stared, stupefied, as the car-that-turned-out-to-be-a-pickup-truck rolled to a stop beside the row of SUVs. Dust coated the truck’s sides and tires. Smashed bugs dotted the windshield, hinting at a lengthy trip. The door pushed open and a man climbed out.

But he wasn’t a man, really—he was a giant. He stood well over six feet tall, with wide shoulders and muscular arms that screamed warrior. His olive-drab T-shirt stretched taut over his pecs, and he leaned an elbow on the roof of the truck while he scanned the area.

His gaze landed on Kelsey and her throat went dry.

“Kelsey? You there?”

“You sent me a SEAL?” she choked.

“His name’s Lieutenant Gage Brewer, Team Nine, Alpha squad. Like I said, he should be there by sixteen hundred. He’s got two weeks’ leave, so it worked out perfectly.”

“You hired someone to… to—”

“He owes me a favor. It’s no big deal, really. This’ll be a silver-bullet assignment for him. He’s looking forward to it.”

Lieutenant Whoever-He-Was reached up and peeled off his sunglasses to reveal a pair of laser-blue eyes as hard and unyielding as the rest of him. Looking forward to it. Yeah, right. This guy was so not happy to be here.

He slammed the door of his truck and strode toward her.

Two

“Kelsey Quinn?”

Her ability to speak evaporated as she stared up at him.

“Gage Brewer,” he said. “I’m here to sign up for your dig.”

Sign up for your dig. Right now. Today. The field school had only a week remaining, and every last person here had been toiling in the sun all summer.

His gaze bored into hers, daring her to challenge him. Damn right she’d challenge him. As soon as she could talk.

She glanced around.

And as soon as she could get away from all the prying eyes of her students.

“Glad you made it.” She forced a smile. “Right this way, please.”

She started for her camper, then realized it would look strange, disappearing into a private room with a man she’d only just met. She changed course, heading for a rocky outcropping about a hundred yards away. The petroglyphs. They’d be within plain view but well out of earshot.

“So you’re thinking of joining us. Why don’t I give you a tour of the site and you can make up your mind?”

He followed silently, his gaze scanning the horizon looking for… what? Rapists? Mountain lions? Serial killers?

“Where, exactly, did you come from?” she asked when they’d reached a safe distance.

“California.”

“You drove here from San Diego? At my uncle’s request?”

He said nothing to this, just followed her strides across the rocky terrain.

“Listen, Lieutenant—” She suddenly blanked on his name.

“Brewer,” he supplied. “And you can call me Gage.”

“All right. Gage. I’m not sure what my uncle told you, but your being here, it really isn’t necessary. My colleagues and I are—”

“He told me his niece needed protection. I told him I’d come. When you’re safely packed up and headed back home, I’ll return to San Diego, mission accomplished.”

Kelsey picked her way over the stony creek bed, fighting back tears of frustration as she listened to him talk. He was just like Joe, just like the stubborn, mule-headed man who had been a father to her most of her life. Good God, she’d never get rid of this guy. He considered her his mission.

Kelsey scaled the side of the creek, grabbing a branch to heft herself up. It snapped free and she fell backward. A pair of enormous hands caught her shoulders.

“Easy there.”

Her pulse skipped as the feel of him, the smell of him permeated her brain. A jolt of raw sexual awareness zinged through her, and she scrambled away.

Was that what this was about? Was her mother matchmaking with one of her uncle’s SEALs? The idea was unbearable. Mortifying. She felt color flooding her already pink cheeks.

And it suddenly hit her. She must look like roadkill. She was grimy, sunburned, and her last encounter with a mascara wand had been before Memorial Day.

Kelsey scurried up the hillside to the limestone escarpment that looked out over the valley and into Mexico. She ducked under the shade of an overhang and stopped beside a wall of rock decorated with ancient engravings. She turned to face the lieutenant, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the dimness so that she could read his expression.

He stopped, maintaining a respectful distance from her as he folded his arms over his chest.

Kelsey tried to sound composed. “My uncle is your commanding officer, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And your commanding officer asked you—as some sort of favor—to come protect me for the duration of my job here, is that it?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

She closed her eyes. “Please don’t call me ‘ma’am’ again, okay? I mean, you’re probably older than I am.”

He didn’t comment, even though she felt certain he knew precisely how old she was. Her uncle had probably given him her bio, for heaven’s sake. That’s how Joe worked. Every mission came with a file, a set of facts to be committed to memory. Kelsey remembered the Abe Lincoln project from fifth grade, the one that—according to Joe—couldn’t be undertaken until she’d memorized the Gettysburg Address.

She shook off the memory. “So your being here, it’s not really a direct order, is that right? I mean, you’re not going to get fired if you don’t—”

“Joe Quinn asked me to come, so I came. It’s that simple.” Something sparked in his eyes, and she sensed that whatever had brought him here wasn’t simple at all.

“This may be simple for you but it’s not for me,” she said. “I’m the field supervisor here. I’m in charge of eighteen graduate students and six undergrads. I have research to conduct, reports to write, grades to submit, and a professional reputation to uphold. How do you think it looks when my uncle sends out some hired hunk of muscle to protect me from the bogeyman?”

He eyed her coolly, not even flinching at her “hired hunk of muscle” comment, which had been intended to piss him off. Kelsey knew the SEAL code. And she knew whatever debt this man owed Joe it had nothing to do with money.

He nodded slightly. “That Ruger you got strapped to your belt, what’s that for?”

Kelsey’s gaze snapped to her holster. She’d become so accustomed to it that she didn’t even notice it anymore.

She looked up and cleared her throat. “This isn’t Disneyland. We get mountain lions and rattlesnakes around here.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Coyotes, mules, maybe even a few border bandits?”

Her gaze narrowed.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s a nice weapon.” He paused. “You know how to use it?”

“Of course.”

“And when’d you get the holster?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m guessing back home in San Marcos, you usually carry it in your purse, right?”

So Joe had told him about her. At least where she lived. What else had Joe told him? Had he mentioned how her boyfriend had dumped her six months ago?

“When’d you get the holster, Kelsey?”

She squared her shoulders. “Five weeks ago.”

He nodded. “After the second break-in. That was your camper, right? The first was Dr. Robles.”

She bit her lip.

“And then when that woman was dragged from her car and murdered last week, not ten minutes from here, I bet that made you think twice, right?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Your uncle cares about you. He told me you’re a smart woman.” He stepped closer until he was towering over her. “He also told me to provide protection for you while you finish your work here, and I agreed.” He unfolded his arms and planted his hands on his hips. “I’m not here to get in your way or get in your business. You want to keep this between you and your uncle? Fine by me. Call me a graduate student and hand me a shovel. But I made a promise to Joe and I intend to keep it.”

Kelsey recognized defeat when it was staring her in the face.

And anyway he was right. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in nearly a week, not since the sheriff had visited the dig site to inform them of the nearby murder and ask if they’d seen or heard anything suspicious.

Kelsey hadn’t. But she’d been in a state of anxious hyperawareness ever since. Just hiking out to this cliff was the farthest she’d ventured away from the group in days.

“Okay, you win.” She crossed her arms. “Now what do you want me to do?”

Heat flickered in his eyes at the question. Or maybe she’d imagined it.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he told her. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

KELSEY QUINN’S ARCHAEOLOGY project was bigger than Gage had anticipated. It encompassed four separate areas, two out in the open and two more inside the cave. Including the work tents—which were really just tarps supported by metal poles—and the campers where Kelsey and her boss stayed, the site included almost three acres of privately owned land that was being cleared of ancient artifacts to make room for a mining project. The area wasn’t large from a security standpoint, but it had its challenges.

The main issue was the unpaved road that skirted their setup. It provided a direct—if bumpy—route from the town of Madrone almost straight to the dig site. Just a short detour off the road and you were right there. Problem was, the road also provided a direct route between the U.S.–Mexico border and Interstate 10—and a predictable array of security risks associated with one of the most rugged and least governable tracts of land in the entire Southwest.

Kelsey and her college kids, parked out here with all their SUVs and computer equipment, were sitting ducks. Gage found it amazing they hadn’t had more than a few break-ins. Of course, the fact that the students headed into town each night, back to the relative comfort of the lodge they’d taken over for the summer, made the dig site less of a target for thieves. But the setup left Kelsey and the geriatric Dr. Robles alone with a crapload of computers and equipment.

For a woman who worked at one of the world’s top crime labs, Kelsey showed a remarkable lack of street smarts.

Gage hauled his zillionth bucket of dirt and emptied it onto a large wire screen for sifting. Kelsey’s beanpole assistant Aaron gave him another one of his sullen looks.

“Thirty minutes, people.” Kelsey’s voice rang out across the site. “Then we’ll call it a wrap.”

Gage cut a glance at his principal. She was sweaty and sunburned and her skinny legs were dotted with scrapes and old bruises. A lock of that fiery red hair had come loose, and she stuffed it back inside her Padres cap as she meted out instructions to one of her underlings. Gage watched her work. She was bossy and annoying and promised to be a royal pain in his ass for the next seven days.

And yet there was something about her that made his blood hum. He had no idea what it was—she was the polar opposite of his usual type. And yet he felt it, just beneath the surface, the steady thrum of lust coursing through his veins.

Gage needed a woman. Soon. Didn’t it figure that the one woman to stir his interest after months and months of celibacy would be the niece of his CO, a woman completely off-limits for some quick-and-dirty fun?

But “fun” hadn’t been part of Gage’s vocabulary in months. And that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. He’d come here to work, not play, and the last thing he needed was to get tangled up with a woman guaranteed to make his life an even bigger mess than it already was.

Gage trudged back into the cave for another bucketful of dirt.

KELSEY FOUND AARON working on the ossuary at the back of the cave, where a battery-powered lamp illuminated a jumble of prehistoric bones. Besides being a brilliant scholar, her field assistant was one of the most meticulous diggers she’d ever known, and she watched with admiration as he worked his roped-off patch of earth. He lay flat against a fence slat that spanned the pit. The makeshift brace enabled him to reach down and remove soil without causing unnecessary disturbance to the burial site.