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They walked across the pristine dark hardwood floor to Melody’s table, where the hostess offered to store all of Shayma’s purchases during their lunch and she thankfully accepted. Murphy doubted there’d be enough space for all three of them plus those packages.
Ever the gentleman, he helped Shayma off with her coat—noticing once again that she was tall for a girl, five-ten if she was anything. Being six-four himself, it was hard to find girls that didn’t look as if they’d break in two if he touched them the wrong way. But Shayma seemed like the kind of woman who could handle her own, trim and fit, yet curvy in all the right places. The bright emerald green turtleneck she wore beneath her gray overcoat hugged her hourglass figure and showed off an excellent rack. He wasn’t looking, of course.
Swallowing hard and frowning at the table, Murphy took his seat across from Shayma and beside Mel at their four-seater. A waiter came by and they ordered drinks—tea for the ladies, just water for him. He’d thought about getting an ale, since from the menu it looked like they had an excellent selection of regional micro-brews, but decided against it. He was here to warm up and call Heath, that was it.
“So, tell me what’s happened to your sister?” Shayma said once the waiter had delivered their drinks and departed once more. “If she’s been kidnapped, you must get the police involved.”
“The police won’t help.” Murphy took a long swig of water and checked the layout of the place, noting all the exits and potential threats. Occupational hazard. He’d just finished his third tour with the SEALs and they were strongly encouraging him to re-up for a fourth. Murph wasn’t opposed to going back to the Middle East again—it was where he’d met Heath and Daveed after all and formed those lifelong friendships—but he didn’t want to make a decision until after he made sure his sister Aileen was safe and sound.
Unfortunately, the deadline for re-enlistment was looming ever closer and he had to tell them one way or another by December twenty-seventh or he’d lose his opportunity and the only livelihood he’d known for the past twelve years. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore if he wasn’t a soldier. The military was in his blood, in his bones, in his DNA. If he wasn’t a SEAL anymore, then who was he?
He glanced over at Mel and realized she’d been talking, though he’d only caught the last half of her final sentence, “…so the guys have been investigating who might have wanted Aileen to disappear.”
Heath had always complained that Mel loved the sound of her own voice, but at the moment, Murph was grateful she’d done the explaining for him so he didn’t have to. Each time he went over Aileen’s kidnapping it was like taking a dagger to the chest. The telling always left him raw and feeling far more vulnerable than he liked. He wasn’t a man who liked to ask for help. He was independent to a fault and the fact he hadn’t been able to find his sister on his own still bugged the crap out of him.
“Is that true?” Shayma asked him, all big brown eyes and silky black hair, her husky voice edged with a hint of concern that he felt like a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. Damn. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared about him like that. It was almost…nice.
He shifted in his seat and gave a non-committal shrug. “We’re on it. We’ll find her.”
“Yes, we will,” Mel agreed with a smile.
Murphy avoided an eye-roll at her sunny optimism. Barely.
Melody was Heath’s ex. They’d been engaged for four years, though neither seemed overly fond of the other. From what Heath had told him, the marriage had been her parents’ idea and his folks had gone along for the ride. Then, Mel had run off with some Broadway actor to Tahiti and all hell had broken loose. Soon, she’d been back on Heath’s doorstep, but Daveed had been there instead and one thing had led to another.
Even thinking about it all gave Murph a headache. He chugged the rest of his water then signaled the waiter for more. At least his fingers had thawed enough that he could get his phone out now. Time to call Heath and get this over with. This place, this lunch, Shayma. They were all distractions he didn’t need.
He thumbed in Heath’s number then excused himself and walked to the back of the restaurant and down a short hall where the bathrooms were located before he hit the call button.
Heath answered on the second ring. “You got him?”
“No.” Murphy exhaled slow and scrubbed a hand over his face. “He bolted before I could grab him.”
“Seriously? You must be losing your touch, man.” Heath said, his tone wry. “If some businessman can outmaneuver a Navy SEAL then we’re all—”
“He didn’t outmaneuver me, okay?” Murph stepped against the wall to allow an older woman past him in the hall. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Like what?”
“Like Daveed’s ex, Shayma. She ran into me and her stuff went flying everywhere and next thing I knew the guy was scurrying into a limo and taking off.”
A deep chuckle echoed through the phone line. “Sounds like somebody got distracted.”
“Fuck you, dude.”
“Not my type, man.” Heath’s smile was visible through his tone. “Where you at now?”
“The girls invited me to lunch with them, so we’re waiting to order now.”
“Girls?”
“Yeah, Shayma was meeting Mel.”
“Shit.” The smile in Heath’s tone turned into a frown. “That’s the second time this week. They’re getting awful chummy, right? Seems weird to me.”
“Hey, don’t ask me.” Murphy gave a curt nod as the same little old lady who’d passed him earlier returned, this time from the direction of the bathroom. She gave a slow appraisal then kept moving. He felt like he’d just been checked out by his grandmother. Ugh. Shuddering, he got back on the line. “I gave up on understanding women a long time ago. Just tell me what you want me to do next and I’m on it.”
“Stay put.” Scuffling noises sounded over the phone. “I’m meeting Daveed and we’ll be over. What restaurant is it again?”
