Читать книгу: «Top Secret Target»

ONE

First Lieutenant Ethan Webb of the Air Force Military Police brushed past the startled aide standing in Colonel Masters’s outer office at Baylor Marine Corps Base.

“The colonel is—”

“Waiting for me,” Ethan snapped. “I know.” Lieutenant Colonel Terence Masters, Ethan’s former father-in-law, was always a step ahead of him, it seemed. Ethan and Jillian’s divorce had cemented the bad feelings. He led Titus, his German shorthaired pointer, into the office, found Masters seated in his leather chair behind the gleaming wood desk. Mahogany, he’d been told, nineteenth century. Hard lines, unyielding contours and pretentious, like the man who owned it.

“You’re late,” Masters said. “And I don’t want your dog in here.”

“With respect, sir, the dog goes where I go and I don’t appreciate you pressuring my commanding officer to get me to do this harebrained job during my leave. I said I would consider it, didn’t I?”

Masters gave him a smug smile. “A little extra insurance to help you make up your mind, Webb.”

Ethan glared. “It’s a bad idea, like I said before. Leave me alone to do my investigation with the team at Canyon, and we’ll catch Sullivan.” They were working around the clock to put away the serial killer who was targeting his air force brothers and sisters as well as a few select others, including Ethan’s ex-wife, marine naval aviator Lieutenant Jillian Masters. Boyd Sullivan was a killer with a flair for the dramatic, leaving a red rose as his grisly calling card, along with a note. “I’m coming for you.” He had earned his nickname, the Red Rose Killer.

“Your team,” Masters said with a nasty inflection on the first word, “hasn’t gotten the job done and this lunatic has threatened my daughter. There have been sightings near our base indicating he’s zeroing in on her. You’re going to work for me privately, protect Jillian from Sullivan, draw him out and catch him, as we’ve discussed. We’re playing offense here, rather than defense. It’s a Marines thing, son. Maybe you airmen can’t understand, but we like to face our enemies head-on.” He steepled his fingers on the desktop.

Ethan fought to keep the anger from balling his hands into fists. Masters loved his games. Now he held the stick and Ethan was the bear about to be poked. “So you think I’m going to pretend to be married to Jillian again and that’s going to put us in the perfect position to catch Sullivan? A couple of sitting ducks waiting to be shot?”

Masters stared at him. “You’re going to prevent that, remember?”

He shoved a hand through his crew cut hair, striving for control. “This is lunacy. I can’t believe you’re willing to use your daughter as bait.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve decided it’s too risky for Jillian and that’s why I hired this girl. This is Kendra Bell.” He gestured to someone in the doorway.

The civilian woman stepped into the office and Ethan could only stare at her. That creamy skin, that curtain of red hair skimming her face... Shock ripped through him like rifle fire.

“You’re...” He shook himself slightly and tried again. “I mean... You look like...”

“Your ex-wife,” she finished. “I know. That’s the point.”

He swallowed hard and peered closer and the truth assembled itself as the surprise ebbed away. They did resemble each other, this woman and Jillian—same build, same eye color, same tint of hair.

She shot a distrustful look at Titus, and raised an eyebrow in Ethan’s direction. “If you’re finished staring...?”

He gulped. His mama would have boxed his ears to know he’d been ogling, but honestly, the resemblance was mind-blowing. Heat climbed up his neck.

“People used to mistake us for each other in high school,” she said. “Sullivan’s going to make the same error, and that’s how I’ll catch him, without your interference.”

“My interference?”

She ignored him, turning to Masters. “You neglected to tell me, when I agreed to the job, about this scheme to involve Lieutenant Webb.”

“I sent you a follow-up email,” Masters said.

“Uh-huh.” She folded her arms across her body. “Anything else you failed to mention, Colonel?”

Ethan tore his gaze away and locked eyes with Masters. “This wasn’t part of the plan I heard, either.”

“Yes, it was. I just didn’t tell either one of you all of the pertinent facts.”

Ethan blew out a breath and shook his head. “No way. Working with Jillian would be bad enough, but at least she’s a marine, not a civilian, and she knows how to protect herself.”

“So can I,” Kendra said. “I’m a licensed PI, with a real gun and everything.”

He cast her a doubtful look and started to answer, but Masters cut him off. “You will pretend to be newly reconciled husband and wife.”

“No one will believe that,” Ethan said.

“Yes, they will. I’ve already started the gossip wheels turning here and at Canyon that you two are an item. Posted an old picture of you two on a few key military networking sites.”

Ethan gaped. “You...”

“And when Sullivan comes for Kendra thinking she is my daughter, you will catch him before any harm comes to Jillian.”

“And what about the harm that might come to her?” Ethan snapped, jerking a thumb in the civilian’s direction.

Kendra glared at him. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. Like I said, I can take care of myself. Before I was a PI I worked as a bounty hunter, and there’s plenty of excitement in that job, let me tell you. I don’t need, or want, your help on this case.”

His cheeks went hot again. “That’s A-OK by me, because I’m not offering it. We’re not working together. I’m out of here.” He stalked to the door, his dog at his heels.

“Lieutenant,” Masters bellowed. “You will not walk out on me.”

Ethan turned and fired a glance at Masters. “I’m not one of your marines, Colonel, nor am I your son-in-law anymore, so with all due respect to your rank...” He let the slam of the door fill in the rest.

* * *

Kendra felt the crackle of energy leave the room along with Ethan Webb and his dog. She had recognized him from the file Colonel Masters had sent, but in person he was more impressive. The guy could be on a recruiting poster. Dark hair, eyes like coffee with a hint of cream, six feet of muscle and barely concealed annoyance, and a Southern drawl that thickened in proportion with his anger. His arrival had thrown her off her game. Time to get the meeting back under control.

Calm, cool and collected, she told herself. Nothing you can’t handle. But it was hard to brush off the unsettling scene she’d just been part of, and more important, the text message she’d gotten that morning just before she’d dumped her cell and gotten herself a new number.

You’re dead.

No further explanation needed. Andy, her ex-boyfriend, recently released from prison, where she’d sent him, had wasted no time starting up the threats. She’d escaped his sick world, but not for long.

Deal with that issue later, Kendra, she told herself. Sullivan was her target, and Ethan’s abrupt departure was an advantage. Now she had the chance to try to persuade the colonel that she did not need any help catching the Red Rose Killer before he murdered anyone else in this part of Texas. Temporarily leaving her tiny office in Colorado, the place she’d fled after her disastrous time in Texas with Andy, the job was an answer to her prayer, the only way she could both settle her debt to Jillian Masters. She would complete the mission much easier without a second party in the picture, especially Jillian’s ex.

She expected the colonel to be furious at Ethan’s disrespect, but to her great surprise, he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“Hasn’t changed a bit. He’ll cool off and come around.”

“How do you figure?”

“He’s one of those Southern gentlemen types. Don’t let his lazy Tennessee drawl fool you. He’s smart as a fox and he’s proud and hotheaded, but he can’t walk away from a lady in distress.”

“I’m not in distress.”

“Not yet.” The colonel smiled—a cold, calculating smile—like a tiger sizing up its prey. Her stomach tensed. She did not need another ruthlessly determined man in her life, but she had the feeling she’d just been saddled with two of them.

* * *

Ethan headed to the parking lot with Titus. He yanked open the truck door for the dog and got in himself, clenching the steering wheel, wondering how he’d lost control of his life. There was absolutely no reason he should be doing the bidding of his devious former father-in-law, and now to find out he’d be partnered with a civilian of all things. Why had he accepted the request that bordered on a command? Ethan was a member of the Air Force Military Police, not property of the Marine Corps.

Masters’s previous words echoed in his mind. Jillian needs you.

That was rich. His ex-wife didn’t need him and never had. Sure, she was under threat from serial killer Boyd Sullivan along with a list of others who’d crossed him, but the investigative team Ethan was a part of would catch him. Besides, Jillian was a woman who could take care of herself—ruthless, determined and entirely self-absorbed. She’d been offered protection after Sullivan killed two K-9 handlers at Canyon Air Force Base, including Ethan’s best friend, Airman Landon Martelli. He’d also murdered Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood in the same killing spree. She’d declined the protection in spite of the risks. No surprise there.

Sullivan’s not smart enough to hurt me, she’d said. Typical.

Yet all of a sudden Jillian had just gone along with her father hiring a look-alike as bait? Insane. He slammed a hand on the steering wheel. Titus regarded him from the passenger seat, head cocked, ears flopping as if to say, “What’s going on?”

In the six years they’d trained, lived and served together, including their last deployment to Afghanistan, Titus could read Ethan better than any other living creature. And now that they shared a living space, the bond had grown stronger. Sullivan’s break-in at Canyon Air Force Base had had other disastrous results besides the deaths of human personnel. Sullivan had let loose nearly two hundred dogs from the Military Working Dogs training center. Twenty-eight of them had yet to be found.

Ethan had been given special permission to keep Titus with him instead of at the kennel until the repairs could be done and security assured.

That was fine by Ethan, as he was cross-training Titus as a cadaver detection dog in addition to his patrol duties. The more time they spent together the better. Plus, military dogs were more than just animals, they were partners. And he had to be sure his partner was protected. Titus had his back and Ethan returned the favor.

“I’ve gotta talk this nutty lady out of standing in for Jillian before she gets herself killed,” he muttered.

Titus flapped his ears and settled back into the seat.

Preparing his most convincing argument for Kendra, he waited for her to exit the office. He was surprised when she stepped out lugging some sort of small animal carrier. He started to exit the vehicle to talk to her, but she loaded the carrier and slid behind the wheel of her car so quickly he didn’t have the chance. As she drove by, he caught her profile, her long red hair now captured in a tight twist at the nape of a graceful neck, a spray of freckles across the nose. His stomach dropped. So like Jillian. Anger choked him, and hurt speared through him as sharp as it had been the day he’d finally understood how his wife had betrayed him, repeatedly, and he’d been nothing but gullible and blind to it. What a sap. Dense as his aunt Millie’s fruitcake.

“Let it go,” he commanded himself. “You’ve been divorced for three years. She’s not your problem anymore.” He decided that with his current state of mind it was best not to head back to Canyon until he got his anger under control and then sorted out how to get Kendra Bell out of the picture.

He pulled out of the parking lot and took the back road off the Marine base, bathed in shadows from the trees that broke up the buttery June sunlight. Unseasonably hot, people were saying, which made him laugh. After returning from Afghanistan, where the temps could top 115 degrees before noon, he’d never complain about the Texas heat again.

Titus seemed to feel the same, stretched out to catch the sunshine, enjoying the moments free from enemy sniper fire and the constant tension born of living in a war zone. Titus was a top-notch patrol dog, sniffing out hidden insurgents and intruders at checkpoints, and he was taking easily to his new training in cadaver detection. The animal’s incredible abilities never ceased to boggle Ethan’s mind. God knew what He was doing when he made dogs.

The miles rolled by along with his thoughts until he was surprised to catch up to Kendra as she headed into a curvy, wooded section of road. A slow and careful driver, unlike the woman she resembled. The bumper of her car disappeared around a turn and gunfire ripped through the air, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Adrenaline exploded through his body as he floored the accelerator, stopping just in time to see Kendra’s vehicle skid off the road and down the slope. He pulled the truck behind a pile of rocks and dialed both 911 and Masters’s direct line. Titus went rigid, ears erect, nose twitching, waiting for a signal from Ethan. Messages delivered, there was no more time to spare. Kendra might be badly injured.

Clipping on Titus’s lead, he unlocked the box from under his seat and slipped the handgun in his belt. Slamming the door, he sprinted toward the edge where her car had gone over, praying the sniper’s bullets had not found their target.

* * *

Was Sullivan making his move already? Kendra fought the bucking steering wheel after the last shot had taken out the front tire. Then again, she had another enemy hot on her trail. She didn’t know that Andy was a good enough shot to take out a tire, but he was skilled at many other means of inflicting pain. Whether it was Sullivan or Andy didn’t really matter at the moment. She battled for control of her vehicle, but there was no time. The car bumped and jolted, skidding sideways toward the trees. “Hold on, Baby,” she shouted to the elderly cat tucked in his back seat carrier. Her words were lost in the jolt of the chassis as it smacked against the rocky ground. Thick tree trunks flashed past the windows as the car flew down the slope, gravity overwhelming the brakes. The front fender slammed into a pile of rocks so hard it snapped her neck back and drove the breath out of her. For several seconds all she could do was cling to the steering wheel, wondering why the airbag hadn’t deployed.

“Baby?” she finally croaked. “Are you okay?”

With a painful effort, she unbuckled her seat belt, grabbed her Glock and turned to peer over the headrest into the back seat. Her heart pounded at what she might find in the cat carrier.

Please, God, don’t let Baby be dead. I know I don’t deserve to ask You for anything, not one thing, but I’m asking anyway. The silence from the rear of the car galvanized her into action.

Shoving an elbow at the door, she forced it open, tumbling to her knees on the rocky ground. Pain in her ribs made her gasp but she pulled herself up and grabbed the rear door handle.

The crunch of footsteps made her draw back.

Sullivan or Andy?

Andy’s last voice mail message echoed in her ears. When I finally catch up to you, I am going to enjoy killing you slowly.

She gritted her teeth. If he was going to kill her today, she’d make sure it would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

The sounds drew nearer. Her mind sought options. Flag someone down? Ethan had been behind her for a while, she’d noticed, but she’d lost sight of him a few miles back. Incredibly, she heard no traffic at all on this back road out of the Baylor Marine Corps Base. She reached for her cell phone when she heard a whispered voice.

“Kendra?”

The voice didn’t belong to Andy, that was certain. This voice was a low baritone, complete with a Tennessee drawl. Ethan. She let out a slow breath.

“I’m coming over to you,” he continued, “so don’t do anything crazy like shoot me.”

She kept silent, gripping the Glock and training the gun toward the direction of the shots. Ethan rounded the corner with a dog at his side. The pointer immediately stiffened, ears erect.

“I don’t like dogs,” she snapped.

“That’s okay. He probably doesn’t like you, either. Cops and marines should be on their way.”

“What are you doing here?” She shot a look at the animal still in alert position. A patrol or scout dog, she suspected.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe we can do the pleasantries later? After the cavalry arrives?”

She would have retorted, but a shot whistled through the air and they hunkered low for cover.

“Sullivan doesn’t usually do his dirty work in public,” he said over his shoulder, peering in the direction of the shooter. “Anyone else you know who might shooting at you?”

“Could be anyone,” she said, earning another exasperated look.

“You can play innocent with me, but I don’t think the marines are gonna be as warm and fuzzy.”

“If you think you’re warm and fuzzy,” she said, yanking the back door handle, “then you’re pretty clueless.”

He put out a hand to stop her. “Leave it. We have to move. Shooter is going to change locations to get a better bead now that we’re pinned down.”

She ignored him, pulling harder on the door, which opened with a reluctant groan.

He grabbed her forearm. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hearing and listening are two different things.”

A shot drilled the rear window, sending glass rocketing in all directions. They both ducked.

“You’re really stubborn,” he said, but she was already lugging the animal carrier out of the car, and he reached in to help.

Another shot pinged the metal car roof, sending off sparks.

“Come on,” he said, taking her arm and propelling her toward the shrubbery.

It was all she could do to hold on to the carrier.

“I thought MPs were supposed to stand their ground,” she huffed.

“We do, but this isn’t my ground and I happen to be saddled with an irrational civilian.”

So much for warm and fuzzy.

He pushed her ahead of him, and he and the dog took up position right behind her as another volley of shots bored into the tree just above their heads.