A Question of Honor by Lindsay McKenna Read Free Book Online

spine, and Kit hid her face in her hands to hide the emotions etched on it. “Dante was Garcia’s main man. I lured Dante to Miami for capture. At the last moment, just before the bust went down, Pete took an unbelievably stupid chance and Dante gunned him down.”
    Noah felt as if a fist had slammed into his heart. “Right in front of you?”
    “Y-yes. Damn Pete Collins!” she sobbed. “He should have cared more about his family, himself or even his partner, me! And he didn’t! All he could do was grandstand, adding another commendation to his record and having the other cops look up to him. I really believe he was more afraid of them finding out he was a junkie than he was of getting killed.”
    Her anguish scored his chest. She was trembling, and he guessed that she hadn’t cried for a year. He wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry,” Noah soothed, “I didn’t mean to make you hurt this way. It’s over, Kit. Just let go of the pain. I’ll hold you…”
    Noah’s gentleness shattered her immobility. Fear vomited through Kit, and she tore out of his embrace with a cry. She saw the surprise on his features as he looked at her.
    “Just leave me alone!” she begged hoarsely. “Just go away!” Hanging on to the grief and tears, Kit whirled around, running for the safety of her house. Blindly she ran down the hall to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. With shaking hands, she locked it. Knees wobbly, she made it to the bed and curled in a tight ball, unable to release the past because Noah Trayhern reminded her too much of Pete Collins.
    As she lay there, eyes tightly shut, Kit saw too many similarities between the two men. Only this time, Noah’s gentleness and understanding had made her vulnerable in a way she’d never encountered. Pete had never been tender, much less sensitive to anyone but himself. But Noah had some of Pete’s other attributes—a drive to be the best, to overcome a personal failing, although in Noah’s case it was to compensate for his brother, Morgan. He was a supercop in a Coast Guard uniform.
    Muffling a cry, Kit rolled onto her stomach, clutching a pillow, buried in a mire of past and present anguish. There was no way out, no answer. Somehow she’d have to stop the unraveling emotions that Noah had jerked free within her, and try to work with him. But where was she going to get the strength? And what would Noah do about her past? She’d trusted him enough to tell the truth. What would he do with that volatile information?
    “Are you Chuck Cordeman?”
    Cordeman raised his head from the mound of paperwork that seemed to attack him from every direction. “Yeah, I’m Cordeman. Who are you?” he shot back in an irritated tone. The noise surrounding them couldn’t be blocked out, although the narc supervisor’s office was enclosed by a sturdy glass panel. Phones were ringing constantly, and men and women in plainclothes with police IDs hanging on their shirts milled around in the larger outer office.
    “I’m Lieutenant Noah Trayhern of the Coast Guard.” Noah didn’t offer his hand.
    Leaning back in his lumpy chair, Cordeman studied him a moment. “Have a seat.”
    “We’ve got some business to discuss.”
    “Look, I’m pretty busy, Lieutenant. If you can make it quick I—”
    “Stow it, Cordeman. What I’ve got to tell you isn’t going to wait.” Noah took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. “I left Kit Anderson’s house an hour ago.”
    Cordeman’s bushy eyebrows drew into a heavy scowl. “So?”
    Noah’s expression hardened as he placed both hands flatly on Cordeman’s desk, glaring down at the pudgy supervisor. “When I met Kit, I knew she was in bad shape. That’s why I fought IOIC to give her a week’s rest before we initiated Operation Storm.” His nostrils flared. “She hasn’t improved. Now you’re going to throw your considerable departmental weight into this lopsided battle to help get her two or three more weeks of