Shadow Page 2

  Gavin opened the door and Heath made his way to the fridge, grabbing a sports drink for himself and tossing one to Gavin. “Drink, Agent Franklin?”

  “Craig, please. And no, I’m fine.”

  “What’s on your mind, Craig?” Gavin took a chug of his drink, then took a seat behind the desk he hadn’t used much since becoming the temporary sheriff of Oak Creek almost four months ago. Heath perched on the corner of the desk, and Craig took a seat on the couch in front of the window.

  “The government contracts out research money to different universities across the country depending on their specialties. We’ve got some biomedical engineering faculty members selling state secrets at Wyoming Commonwealth University.”

  A sports drink bottle hit the desk behind Heath with a thump. “You’re aware that my sister studies at WCU?” Gavin asked.

  Heath stared at Gavin over his shoulder. “You have a sister? How is it I’ve only met your two dumbass brothers?”

  “One, because you’ve been out of the country for the past half-decade, and two, Jacquelyn—Jackie—isn’t hot on my job here. For Linear Tactical or for the sheriff’s department. She’s not big on military or law enforcement careers in general.”

  Heath whistled through his teeth. “Sucks to be her.”

  Especially since damn near everybody in Gavin’s family was connected to the military or law enforcement. All three brothers were. Hell, even the two of Gavin’s cousins he’d met—Noah and Tanner Dempsey—were involved with the military or law enforcement in Colorado.

  Gavin’s father was the governor of Wyoming, having run for office after an established career in, that’s right, law enforcement. Jacquelyn Zimmerman had picked the wrong family to be born into if she didn’t like cops or soldiers.

  “Do I need to pull her out, Franklin? Jackie has health issues—a heart problem. She’s working on a master’s degree in hospitality, but I don’t want her in the middle of anything.”

  Craig shook his head. “WCU is huge with multiple departments. We’re looking into the biomedical engineering department, nothing to do with hospitality majors.”

  Gavin shrugged. “I think she was looking for a major as far from law enforcement as she could get.”

  Craig nodded. “Well, that should do it. The math and science buildings are on the opposite side of campus, and there’s no reason to think you should be concerned for her safety in any way.”

  Gavin folded his arms over his chest, all business. “Okay, if you’re not here as a courtesy call about getting Jackie out, why are you here?”

  Craig let out a sigh. “I’ll be honest with you. I wish I weren’t. I need your help. I have reason to believe there’s a leak in my department. I don’t know how far up it goes, and I don’t have a lot of time to flush out the mole. Making sure this technology doesn’t fall into the wrong hands is of primary importance.”

  Craig turned to Heath. “It’s my understanding that you studied at Wyoming Commonwealth University for a couple of semesters.”

  Heath crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t surprised Craig had found that information. It was part of the information docket someone would find if they searched his ID. A lot of the info in the docket was completely false, but not this particular detail. “That’s right. I’m sure you guys will snicker at this, but actually, I studied languages and international communications.”

  He’d been recruited straight into Project Crypt from WCU.

  Gavin shook his head. “Your ability to speak every language on the planet has saved my ass more than once.”

  “I don’t think eight counts as every language on the planet.” He spoke eight fluently and at least another dozen enough to get by. Heath turned back to Craig. “I don’t know enough about WCU anymore to be particularly useful in a sting op. Definitely not in the math and science department.

  “I’ll be honest, it’s less what you bring to the table as a former student and more the fact that you’re part of Gavin’s inner circle. That means he can trust you. You’ve got a basic understanding of the campus, you’re not the mole in my department, and I’m hoping you might be between assignments and willing to work undercover.”

  Heath glanced over at Gavin again. His friend shrugged.

  Maybe this was the kick start he needed. Since Holloman’s assassination, Heath had been floundering—trapped with the murmurings in his head and no chance for answers. Kendrick Foster, the resident Linear Tactical computer specialist, had been trying to recover what data he could from a damaged hard drive Heath’s friends Dorian and Ray had obtained a few months ago. But so far, nothing of any use.

  Heath had been in a damned holding pattern. He’d been passing the time teaching his assigned Linear Tactical classes each day. As much as he loved self-defense, survival, and weapons training, his heart hadn’t been in it.

  It was time to find a new baseline for normal. Make peace with what his life was going to be like now.

  Undercover work with a bunch of college kids should give him a chance to get his head on straight. He wouldn’t mind playing the role of professor for a while. Maybe he could even pull out the glasses he owned and had used for undercover work before, even though he didn’t need them. People tended to be less suspicious of guys with glasses.

  Maybe it would block out some of the gibberish in his head for a while. Something to concentrate on besides the fact that he wasn’t ever going to have answers.

  It was time to stop bemoaning that fact and learn to live with what he couldn’t rise above.

  “I’ll do it. Tell me more.”

  Chapter Two

  “You’re a strong, independent, black woman who doesn’t need any man.”

  Lyn Norris was actually none of those things.

  Okay, yes, she was a woman.

  And her grandmother had been born in the Caribbean, so the black part was at least partially true. Although Lyn’s European heritage didn’t tend to make that noticeable.

  But the strong, independent part . . . definitely nothing true about that.

  But she was trying. That was the important thing—she was trying.

  “What are you mumbling about being a black woman over there?” Zuri Greenbank, Lyn’s friend and actual strong, independent, black woman, shifted the box of books she was carrying.

  “Merely reminding myself that I can do this.”

  Zuri grinned and pressed the up button on the elevator. “Move the last of these manuscripts into your office?”

  The other woman knew damn well that wasn’t what Lyn was talking about. “Dad called to check on me today to make sure I was doing okay. The Brothers have all video called me a least once in the past two weeks. Usually they just text incessantly, not actually wanting to talk.”

  It was so much easier to mislead them when she was texting rather than having to see their faces. She loved The Brothers—thinking of them as one entity rather than three individuals was easier, especially since they tended to gang up on her—and Dad—but they were all damn observant. She’d learned a long time ago she could hide a lot more in a text than a phone call or video chat.

  Dad was in Cheyenne, hours away, thank goodness. Tristan and Andrew were both deployed for the navy and out of the country. Gavin was closest, less than an hour away, but he was busy with his temporary sheriff’s position in Oak Creek.

  All just far enough away to rarely drop by unannounced, which suited Lyn perfectly.

  Lyn was here at Wyoming Commonwealth University getting her doctorate in what she’d always wanted to study: linguistics and philology.

  Her family thought she was getting a master’s degree in hospitality and that, for some reason, it was taking her five years.

  Could you even get a master’s degree in hospitality? And why would someone need five years to do it?

  Not that she had anything against a hospitality major—it had even been part of what she’d studied in undergrad. The major her father had actually known about and been thrilled sh
e’d chosen.

  After all, if he needed someone to play hostess at the governor’s mansion, a daughter with a degree in hospitality would certainly fit the bill.

  Never mind that hosting functions would be Lyn’s definition of hell.

  Just leave her alone with her ancient languages and how they applied to contemporary times. That’s what she really loved and was studying now.

  “Your dad and The Brothers care about you.” Zuri leaned back against the elevator door as it opened so Lyn could enter.

  “I know. They care too much. Always too much. It’s that alpha-hero gene all of them got in spades. Please change the subject.”

  Zuri followed Lyn inside the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor. “Fine. Saussure’s views on the subject of synchrony and diachrony have to do with the question of how different people use the term morpheme. That needs to go in your introductory chapter.”

  Lyn tilted her head, considering Zuri’s point. “Actually, you’re probably right. That should be included as part of my initial premise.”

  Zuri winked at her. “Of course I’m right. I know you’ve missed me since I’ve been gone.”

  “Longest seven months of my life.”

  Zuri knocked into Lyn with her hip. “I’ve missed you too, kiddo. Just think, finish your dissertation this year and you’ll be out in the real world also.”

  The thought didn’t actually bring Lyn any peace. It was difficult enough for her to make friends here in the university’s closed environment. She couldn’t imagine that would get any easier on the outside.

  And it would mean telling her family she didn’t plan to play hostess for the rest of her life. That she wanted to travel, experience different cultures and their languages firsthand.

  That was going to go over splendidly. And was why she’d taken an extra year to work on her dissertation rather than pushing through and finishing like she was more than capable of.

  The elevator door opened; Lyn shifted the heavy box of manuscripts in her hands and began walking down the hall. She was a little out of breath before they got halfway to her office.

  “You okay?” Zuri asked, waiting while Lyn had to stop and get her heart rate under control. “It totally sucks that you have to be over here with the nerds.”

  Lyn laughed, appreciating her friend’s subject change. “You were just debating a comparativist’s view on synchrony and diachrony with me, and you’re going to call the math and computer science guys nerds?”

  Zuri winked, then started walking slowly again. Most people would attribute Lyn’s breathlessness to carrying the heavy boxes since she was a little on the heavy side. And that was partially true. But most of it was because of the heart defect Lyn had lived with all her life: supraventricular tachycardia.

  Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, to be exact. A really drawn-out way of saying her heart didn’t always work the way it was supposed to. Sometimes it started beating too fast and couldn’t pump blood effectively to other organs.

  Her tachycardia was why her family thought she was studying hospitality. Because someone with her condition shouldn’t have dreams of traveling the world and learning how the use of language affected societies and made them better.

  No, she was much better suited to hosting functions for her father and making small talk with politicians and businessmen.

  Sorry, Dad, not in this life.

  Lyn wasn’t good at making small talk with anyone. And the career she was interested in may take her out of Wyoming, but it wasn’t dangerous. She had no idea why she hadn’t just told Dad a month ago when he’d come to visit that she was working on a degree in linguistics.

  Maybe because he’d had all three of her brothers with him. They’d been wrapping her in cotton wool since the day her mom had died of a similar heart defect. For twenty-three years, since Lyn had been five, four alpha males—six, if she counted her cousins Noah and Tanner, who could be just as bad—had done everything to make sure her life was as gentle and easy as possible.

  It had never actually occurred to them to ask her if she wanted gentle and easy.

  “You doing okay?” Zuri asked again

  Lyn nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get these in.”

  They zigzagged their way through the complicated hallways to finally get to the back. Lyn set her box down to unlock her office door. The room wasn’t much bigger than a supply closet, and it was in the middle of the math and CS division, but at least it was hers.

  “Okay, this isn’t so bad.” Zuri looked around. “At least you don’t have to share, and there’s probably little chance of it flooding like the linguistics PhD offices. You didn’t carry all this stuff yourself, did you? I know you like proving to yourself that you’re tough.”

  “A couple when I first moved in two weeks ago, but maintenance moved the rest.” Lyn gestured to the boxes she and Zuri had set on the ground. “Thanks for helping me carry these. I wanted to transfer the more valuable manuscripts from the library myself. Heath offered to help, but I told him I could do it.”

  Zuri raised one beautifully shaped dark eyebrow. “Heath?”

  Paska. Why had she used his name?

  Zuri laughed out loud. “Did you just say shit in Hungarian?”

  “No, of course not.” Lyn picked up a box and turned away to put it on her desk. “It was Finnish.” Collecting curse words in other languages had become a sort of hobby of hers.

  Zuri laughed again. “So who’s Heath?”

  “Nobody. A friend. Nobody. Um, he’s the maintenance guy who does the cleaning and stuff. You probably haven’t met him since he’s new.”

  Oh God, she was babbling.

  “You’re on a first-name basis with the janitor?”

  Lyn could feel heat rising on her face. “Yeah. He’s really nice.” And really handsome and kind. Several times over the past two weeks, he’d taken time to help her: once when she’d gotten locked out of her office and once, gah, when she’d gotten lost in this unending maze of hallways.

  “Nice?”

  Lyn fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. “We’ve had coffee and donuts a couple of times before my morning theory class.” A couple of times being at least half a dozen. “He heard me say a naughty word in Spanish that he happened to know, and I’ve been teaching him curse words in other languages.”

  And it had been the highlight of the past two weeks.

  “Okay, girl.” Zuri held her hands out in a show of surrender. “Nothing wrong with a little janitor crush.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  Zuri’s eyebrow rose again. They both knew it was exactly like that.

  “Well, I say you should ask him out,” Zuri continued. “You spend too much time in your books, and coming from an ex-fellow linguistics doctoral student, that’s saying something. When was the last time you had a date?”

  Lyn began placing the manuscripts from the box into their appointed spots on her shelves. “Undergrad.” And even that hadn’t been serious. Most college guys weren’t into plump. And the ones who had been interested had made a rapid exit after her dad or The Brothers had made an appearance. It had kept Lyn’s lovers to a grand total of three.

  Her family claimed they were just looking out for her. They called it the military/law enforcement gene.

  Lyn called it a pain in the ass.

  “Undergrad is way too long ago. Tell me about this Heath.”

  What was she supposed to say? That compared to all the academic types and undergraduate students barely out of their teens that Heath seemed more . . . manly? That he was over six feet of muscular body that spoke of hard work rather than just time in a gym?

  That the other day when he’d said hi and asked her about the class she’d just finished teaching, she’d been staring at his wrists, nice and tanned under his rolled-up sleeves, as she’d tried to put a coherent sentence together?

  She’d gotten turned on by his wrists, for God’s sake. His wrists.

  Cachu.
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  “Seriously, now you’re cursing in Welsh? I say ask your hot janitor out.” Zuri handed her another book.

  “I think ‘facilities maintenance technician’ is the correct term.”

  “Fine. Ask your hot facilities maintenance technician out. Unless you’re too good to go out with someone with that profession.”

  Lyn grunted, reaching up to reorganize a manuscript on a higher shelf. A custodian might be the opposite of a career in linguistics, but so what? Lyn had an impressive list of faults: hips too wide, lips too big, head always in a book, but judging others based on their careers wasn’t one of them.

  Unless he was some sort of alpha-male, law-enforcement type. She’d had quite enough of those in her life.

  As best she could tell, Heath was kind, reasonably intelligent based on their brief conversations, and . . . Lyn didn’t like to objectify someone based on their looks, but as Zuri had picked up on, Heath was hot.

  Chocolate-brown eyes and dark-brown hair. A face that looked like it had a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Not the kind some of the guys on campus carefully cultivated. Heath’s seemed more natural, like he really did need to shave twice a day to keep his jaw smooth.

  What would Zuri say if Lyn told her she’d already imagined how that scruffiness would feel against her skin?

  Her friend would probably go ask Heath out for Lyn herself.

  Zuri was right. It had been quite a while since Lyn had pulled herself out of her studies long enough to really be interested in a man. Years. She’d been burned more than she’d thought when the last guy had decided plus sized wasn’t what he wanted.

  “I don’t care about his profession. I’ll ask him out if the time is right. Maybe he totally goes for the awkward, scholarly type.” Lyn tapped the glasses perched on her nose.

  “Excuse me, we call that sexy librarian around here. And if he’s got a good, solid job, that means your father and The Brothers can’t chase him off, can they, Ms. Norris?”

  Lyn cringed. Her parents had hyphenated their last names when they’d gotten married, Norris-Zimmerman, but The Brothers all went by Zimmerman. When Lyn had transferred to the linguistics department, she’d dropped the Zimmerman and kept the Norris. Jackie Zimmerman had been reinvented as Lyn Norris without ever having to change any official paperwork.