What if he couldn’t identify the captain? He hadn’t seen him in more than ten years, and McCoy had been none too happy on that occasion. In fact, the last time they’d met, McCoy had been downright red in the face to see his little girl sneaking into the house at zero dark hundred. Will hadn’t exactly meant to drop Jess off so late, but he’d been a reckless kid, cocky and assured. And when the old navy man had clamped a hand on his shoulder and stared hard at him, Will had nearly buckled. Would he be able to recognize McCoy without the searing anger and disapproval in the older man’s expression—or would both still be there, even after all these years?
When he reached the last booth in the farthest corner, all concern about recognizing Jess’s dad vanished in an instant. Captain McCoy hadn’t aged much. Still broad, with an angular jaw, and barely a wrinkle around his narrow eyes. He kept his black hair in a traditional military cut, and in the light any hint of gray was indistinguishable. But there was something different about him. McCoy, who had always stood so proudly, slumped in the vinyl booth, head bowed over a half-empty glass. He seemed intent on examining the surface of the table, but his mind was clearly engaged elsewhere.
Will walked over and waited for the other man to acknowledge him. When McCoy glanced up, his eyes turned into slits, a frown firmly in place. “I don’t need anything.”
Maybe Will was the one who had changed.
Ten years, thirty pounds and a SEAL Trident pin would do that to a man.
Or maybe it was just the haze hanging over the room.
“Captain McCoy?” Will kept his words short, in case he reverted back to that eighteen-year-old kid whose voice had had a habit of cracking under pressure.
McCoy squinted harder before jumping out of the booth to assess him more closely. After a long pause, he said, “William?”
“Yes, sir.” He held out his hand, expecting a shake, but McCoy clapped him on the back, nearly hugging him.
“It’s good to see you, son. I almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform.” Not the reaction Will had been expecting, but it was a far cry better than the alternative. McCoy motioned to the table and slid back into the booth. Will sat down opposite him. “How are your parents? Still living in the area?”
“They’re fine, sir. Dad just retired, and they moved closer to the beach so he can surf more.”
The captain chuckled silently, his shoulders bobbing and a few wrinkles forming on either side of his mouth. But the humor never reached his eyes, which were pained. He wrapped his hands around his glass of soda and gazed into the dark brown liquid.
Will opened his mouth to ask about Jess, but snapped it closed before the words could pop out. He had no right to ask how she was doing or what she’d done in the past decade. Not even if she’d ever gotten married, settled down, had a family.
The pain wasn’t as acute as it had been at first, but the idea of his childhood best friend married to someone else still hit him like a punch in the stomach. At least he knew she hadn’t married his brother, Salvador. That’s why they’d stopped talking—because Jess had said she was thinking about accepting Sal’s promise ring. And because Will had decided that ignoring her phone calls was the best way to deal with the pain those words had caused.
Well, that and because he’d done the only thing he could think of to get away from having to watch Jess marry his older brother. He’d joined the navy, shipped out for parts unknown and made no effort to keep in touch. He only knew that she hadn’t married Sal—hadn’t even accepted his ring and had broken Sal’s heart in the process. His mom had told him that much.
Will didn’t have any right to ask how Jess was doing, so he canned the small talk and asked the important question.
“You wanted to meet me, sir. What can I do for you?”
McCoy released a breath that deflated his shoulders, the dim light in his eyes vanishing altogether. He glanced toward the front door before clearing his throat. “I need your help.”
“Yes, sir.” Will bit his tongue to keep from asking why the captain hadn’t asked for this meeting to take place in his office on Coronado.
Turning his glass in endless circles, the older man stared hard at the bouncing ice cubes. The seconds ticked by as the ambient noise built around them, a group singing their hearts out by the jukebox leading the charge.
“I need this conversation to stay off the record.”
Will leaned forward, his elbows spread and arms resting on the sticky tabletop. “All right.”
“You’re under no obligation to agree to what I’m about to ask you to do.” Will nodded, but McCoy continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “If this goes badly, it could cost me my commission and you your place on the teams.”
Will swallowed a lump that had lodged somewhere below his Adam’s apple. This was his chance to walk away. McCoy was giving him an out before he knew too much. If he stuck around, he’d be privy to information that was bound to get them both in trouble.
But he hadn’t been summoned by chance. None of the other men on his boat crew had been invited. McCoy had called him specifically.
If the tingling of his spine was any indication, it had everything to do with their past acquaintance.
“Something happened to Jess.” It wasn’t a question, and as the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, his stomach rolled. His Jess. His best friend from junior high to graduation. If she needed him, she was in trouble, and the situation was worse than he could imagine. Batting down the accompanying nausea, he squinted across the table. “Tell me everything.”
Jabbing his fingers through his hair, McCoy let out a slow breath. “Jessalynn is working on her PhD in bioengineering and had a grant to study an airborne pathogen at Southern California State University.”
Will let out a low whistle, the sound involuntary and ill equipped to convey how impressive he found her achievements.
“Three days ago she was working late in the lab. The security alarm went off about oh one hundred, and when the guard arrived, the lab had been ransacked. Jess and her bioweapon had vanished.”
Fire shot through Will’s forehead and he covered his face with his hands, praying this was some sort of sick joke. But the XO sat in equally stunned silence, as if this was the first time he’d spoken the truth aloud.
Massaging his temples, Will growled low in the back of his throat. “Who took her?”
“The DEA thinks that it’s a Panamanian drug cartel.”
“And they want what?”
McCoy’s face crumpled in silent agony. Just seeing it made Will’s chest hurt, and he clawed at his T-shirt, searching for air, the smell of alcohol and perfume catching in his throat. He could picture Jess’s bright grin and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. But he could not picture her in Panama, fear etching her facial features until they were unrecognizable.
This was a hoax. Someone was playing a cruel joke.
His Jess couldn’t be at the hands of some drug cartel. She was safe and sound. And probably long-ago married to someone who actually deserved her.
Except the tortured voice of a father unable to save his only child wasn’t easily conjured. It carried with it the pain of broken hearts and lost dreams.
Sean McCoy wasn’t tricking him. He was a man in need of help.
Will closed his eyes, pursed his lips until they almost touched the tip of his nose and released a pent-up breath. “Let me guess. They want to use the pathogen and need someone to release it for them.”
“A friend at the DEA says there’s a bitter land war going on down