She walked away from him once.

Now he’s her only hope.

Blackhawk Security weapons expert Anthony Harris has trained for any contingency. Except the return of his ex-fiancée. Glennon Chase walked out on the former ranger five years ago. And now the CID special agent needs Anthony’s help with a deadly investigation into her partner’s disappearance. Dodging bullets he can handle, but pairing up with his ex is flat-out dangerous. Especially when Anthony discovers that the secret Glennon is keeping could get them both killed.

NICHOLE SEVERN writes explosive romantic suspense with strong heroines, heroes who dare challenge them and a hell of a lot of guns. She resides with her very supportive and patient husband, as well as her demon spawn, in Utah. When she’s not writing, she’s constantly injuring herself running, rock climbing, practicing yoga and snowboarding. She loves hearing from readers through her website, www.nicholesevern.com, and on Twitter, @nicholesevern.

Also by Nichole Severn

Rules in Blackmail

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Rules in Rescue

Nichole Severn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09361-3

RULES IN RESCUE

© 2019 Natascha Jaffa

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For my readers.

I finished this book a month before I gave birth

to my second demon spawn.

It was nice knowing you while I was still sane.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“I need your help,” she said.

Four simple words had ripped weapons expert Anthony Harris away from his current surveillance assignment and into downtown Anchorage at three in the morning.

And there she was. Glennon Chase—his ex-fiancée—needed him after all this time.

“I haven’t heard from you in almost five years and now you need my help?” The weight of the Beretta M9 in his shoulder holster kept him focused on the situation at hand and not on the shadows under those hazel-specked green eyes. He shouldn’t have come. Too much history between them. Too easy to get wrapped up in her again. “Don’t you have an entire team of soldiers to help you with whatever investigation you’re working?”

The muted beam from her flashlight streaked across the pitted hardwood floors of the abandoned house. She’d given him the address over the phone, insisted he couldn’t be followed. Because she wasn’t supposed to be there. According to his contact, the Military Police Corps had assigned her to investigate the theft of a weapons shipment out of Joint Base Elmendorf Richardson. So why had Glennon told her superior officer she was on base when, in reality, she was about to be charged with breaking and entering downtown?

“I’m not here on an official investigation.” Her gaze darted out the front window, her fingers visibly tightening around the flashlight. Nervous? That wasn’t like her. At least, not the Glennon he knew. Correction: had known. A lot had changed over the last five years. Her dirty-blond hair, now darker than he remembered, had been pulled back in a loose ponytail. Nothing like the polished, professional way she used to wear it. Long, lean muscle peeked out from under her thin T-shirt, a far cry from the soft features he’d loved all those years ago. She’d always been strong, but she’d obviously been pushing herself physically since the last time they’d been in the same room together. And damn, she looked good.

“My partner, Bennett Spencer...he’s missing. You’re the only one who can help me find him,” she said.

“A missing persons case.” Tension flooded through the tendons along his shoulders, pulling his Kevlar vest tighter. Blackhawk Security’s CEO, Sullivan Bishop, had hired him as a weapons expert, using his knowledge from over a decade with the 75th Ranger Regiment to the team’s advantage. War, death, murder. He’d seen it all. But this...this was different. He’d been trained in recovery and rescue, but every cell in his body screamed he shouldn’t have come. Partnering with his ex? Flat-out dangerous. “You need the police. Not me.”

“The police can’t help me.” She took a single step toward him, hesitant. Desperation seeped into her movements, in the way she held so tightly onto the flashlight in one hand and her Glock in the other. Something had scared her—or someone. And while the idea she’d been rattled didn’t sit well, this wasn’t the assignment for him. The past had to stay in the past. He’d moved on. She had to do the same.

Her voice dipped into a whisper. “You’re the only one I can trust.”

He held back a laugh. Trust? That word meant nothing to her. Anthony shortened the distance between them, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Heat simmered under his sternum. “What would you know about trust?”

Her brows drew inward, her one and only tell when things didn’t go her way. Nice to see he could still get to her.

“I know what you must think of me, but I wouldn’t have called unless I was absolutely sure about getting you involved. I can’t do this alone,” she said. “There’s no one else who can help me. Please.”

What the hell had she gotten herself into here? He scanned the rest of the street out the dirt-covered front window. The cul-de-sac looked like any other neighborhood downtown. Snow piled up in yards and on flat roofs, white brick with a few scattered trees clinging to the structures. The Kevlar weighed him down as he scanned the rest of their surroundings. No movement on the street, no shifting of shadows.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself back into the moment. “Sorry. You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m sure the army can help you find the right one.”

Anthony turned back the way he’d come. The dilapidated floorboards creaked under his steps.

“I have a son,” she said.

Ice ran through his veins and he stopped cold. Heart thundering in his chest, he tried to wrap his head around her words. A son? He turned around slowly, the house protesting his shifting weight. He ran the numbers. They hadn’t seen each other in five years, not since she’d walked out on him while he’d been on tour. A slight tremor shook his hand.

“How...” How old? He clenched his jaw. No. It wasn’t possible. She wouldn’t have left if she’d been pregnant. She would’ve told him. Which meant she had moved on. Just without him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m going after my partner with or without your help.” Moonlight crawled across her features as she moved toward him. The shadow along one side of her face shifted as she widened her stance. “My son has a better chance of his mother coming home if you have my back.”

That was how she was going to play this? Putting the blame on him if something happened to her. As if blame hadn’t already eaten him from the inside. He faced her completely, a hint of the rage he’d held back when she’d left bubbling to the surface. “You have some nerve—”

A laser sight crawled across Glennon’s T-shirt.

Anthony lunged. The front window exploded as the echo of a single rifle shot rang through his ears. He crushed her into the floor then rolled them both near the wall. The world spun, but adrenaline kept him focused and alert as it had in far too many situations just like this. Single shooter armed with a sniper rifle. The echo of the shot died fast, but not before he’d pinpointed the shooter’s location: the trees south of the house.

Anthony raised his head above the windowsill, his knees on either side of Glennon’s waist, and scanned the tree line. The Beretta found its way into his hand. Wood exploded to his left as another bullet ripped through the darkness. He ducked below the window to avoid losing his head.

Glennon had clamped a hand over her left shoulder, both her gun and flashlight discarded on the floor where he’d tackled her. The small amount of moonlight reaching them showed something dark and wet spreading through her fingers. Blood. She’d been shot. Squinting, she let a small groan vibrate through her.

Peeling her hand back, Anthony scanned her shoulder. “Can you move?”

A scream escaped her control, singeing his nerve endings. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright. “I’m fine. Just get us out of here.”

He aimed for the now motionless trees and fired. Three rounds. Four. The gun kicked back in his hand with each pull of the trigger. No movement. No return fire. The shooter had done what he’d come to do and disappeared. Or maybe not.

Hell. Pulse pounding hard in his throat, Anthony holstered his gun then reached for her. Wrapping one arm around her back and the other in her hand, he wrenched Glennon off the floor and into his side. Her roselike scent—a scent that seemed to cling to him—claimed his attention as they moved through the house. He couldn’t focus on that now. There were no guarantees the shooter had vanished or that he’d come alone, but they weren’t going to sit around and wait to find out.

Mentally alert. Physically strong. Morally straight, he reminded himself. The words had been drilled into his mind at boot camp.

Glennon picked up her discarded weapon. Moving when he moved, turning when he turned, she followed his lead, not missing a beat. “Do you want to help me now?”

Want to? Hell, no. Need to? Apparently.

“Do you really want to have this conversation while you’re bleeding?” He steered them toward the north end of the house, opposite the shooter’s last known position. If they had any chance of making it to his SUV without being shot, this was it. One hundred yards. That was all they had before they reached the vehicle, but that distance could feel like a mile when under fire. Pulling up short of the slashed screen door at the back of the house, Anthony scanned her from head to toe. “Ready?”

She nodded, blood coating her gun hand.

“Keep low, move fast and use me as cover if you have to.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he kicked the screen door aside and rushed them onto the covered back porch. A gust of freezing December air took the breath from his lungs. Hiking the Beretta shoulder-level, he sidestepped along the side of the house, making them as small a target as possible in case the shooter decided to come around the corner.

Snow crunched under their steps. Once they reached the corner of the house, they could make a run for it. Until then, the snow would only slow them down. Instincts on high alert, he listened for movement—anything—that pointed to an ambush.

“On my count.” He had the SUV in his sights and Glennon glued to his side. “One.” He studied the fast-spreading pattern of blood across her T-shirt. “Two.” There were no other options at this point. They had to run. Now. He slowed his breathing, wrapped his free hand around her upper arm. A rush of electricity shot through him at the contact. “Three.”

They raced toward the open white-picket-fence gate. A third shot exploded from the trees. Then a fourth. Anthony maneuvered Glennon to his opposite side, using his body as a shield, and emptied the Beretta’s magazine toward the trees.

Alaska winters were some of the darkest on the planet. He couldn’t see a damn thing, let alone narrow down the shooter’s location in a patch of thick trees without stopping. Getting Glennon to safety had to be his priority. Pocketing the empty gun as they crossed the cul-de-sac, he unholstered another weapon and fired.

“Go, go, go!” Fifty feet. Thirty. The SUV came to life at the press of a button and, within seconds, he’d shoved Glennon into the back seat. He ripped open the driver’s door, hiked himself behind the wheel and rammed the vehicle into Reverse. The houses that lined the street blurred as he leveraged his arm against the passenger’s headrest and slammed his foot against the accelerator. One last bullet fought to penetrate the windshield as he maneuvered the SUV out of the neighborhood, tires screaming in protest, but didn’t make it through. One of the perks of working for a heavily resourced security company: bulletproof glass. He’d never been more grateful for it than right that second.

He spun the vehicle around and sped away from the abandoned house and the single shadowed figure standing in the middle of the street. The gunfire died, his fight-or-flight response returning to normal. The SUV’s engine roared as he pushed it faster. One glance at Glennon in the rearview mirror and he white-knuckled the steering wheel. He inhaled deeply to slow his racing heart rate. “You still alive?”

“I’m alive. Thanks to you.” She refused to look at him, staring out one of the back windows. Pretending the last few minutes hadn’t happened—that she hadn’t just been shot—wouldn’t get her out of answering his questions.

He relaxed against the seat, finally able to take a full breath since setting foot in that house. “Good, then you can tell me who the hell tried to kill you.”

* * *

SEVENTY-TWO HOURS. That was how long her partner, Sergeant Bennett Spencer, had been missing.

Criminal Investigations Special Agent Glennon Chase read his last text message on her phone’s screen for the hundredth time as the SUV plowed through the snow-covered streets of her hometown.

I found proof.

What did it mean? She hadn’t been able to locate him since. He wouldn’t return her calls, hadn’t been seen anywhere near his army barracks or shown up at the temporary office they’d been assigned to complete their investigation. On top of that, the GPS on his phone had gone offline. Or been destroyed.

But Bennett was alive. She had to believe that. Otherwise...

“Your guess is as good as mine at this point.” Glennon pressed her palm against the bullet wound in her left shoulder as she shifted in the back seat. Pain flooded through her but it kept her focused. In the moment. Her attention slid to the wall of pure muscle in the driver’s seat. Because letting her guard down around Sergeant Major Anthony Harris would be a mistake she couldn’t afford. Not again.

The former Ranger hadn’t changed a bit. Aviator sunglasses hanging from his T-shirt, sandy-brown hair, full beard, thick muscles strapped inside that familiar Kevlar vest adorned with a patch of the Grim Reaper. Gun at his side. He was attractive, intelligent, protective—everything she’d imagined she’d needed when they’d first gotten together after basic training. He’d still been in the army then, her weapons instructor out of Fort Benning. And those eyes...the darkest blue she’d ever encountered. Dark and deadly.

“Hope a bullet in the shoulder was worth it.” Anthony kept his focus on the road, but the dangerous sinking of his tone meant his focus rested one hundred percent on what had happened back at that house. She didn’t blame him. An ambush had been the last thing on her mind when she’d tracked Bennett’s GPS to that location. “Did you at least find what you were looking for?”

Right. Focus. She swallowed the rush of warmth spreading through her chest and stared out the passenger-side window into the cold. “You mean aside from proof someone doesn’t want me to find my partner?” She inhaled through another round of pain and pressed her shoulders into the leather seat as a distraction. “No.”

The house had been abandoned long before she’d gotten there, but Bennett’s GPS hadn’t lied. He’d been there for close to an entire day before his phone had been turned off. Or died. Which didn’t make sense. They’d been assigned by the provost marshal general to investigate a stolen shipment of military hardware out of JBER here in Anchorage. Guns, ammunition, rocket launchers. At no point in their investigation had an abandoned house located downtown come into the equation. Bennett shouldn’t have been there.

“One-word answers aren’t going to help me keep you alive.” The rough edge to Anthony’s voice added to the weight in her stomach.

Relief flooded through her, however fleeting. She shouldn’t have called him, but after two days of no leads and running into dead ends, she’d run out of options. Going to the police, even involving the army in her partner’s disappearance, could put her son in danger. Because while she didn’t know exactly what’d happened to Bennett, her gut said he hadn’t walked away. In the end, Anthony was the only person she could trust not to get himself killed and to protect her in the process. “Does that mean you’ve decided to help me?”

Anthony pressed a button hidden beneath the driver’s sun visor and swung the SUV down into an underground parking garage. The building wasn’t familiar. At least, she didn’t recognize it. Several SUVs, exactly like his, lined the parking stalls. No other personnel were visible in the cement fortress. No security guards. No employees. The place was empty.

“We’re here,” he said.

She caught sight of four cameras mounted to the ceiling, all with small red lights beneath the lenses. That, coupled with the Batcave entrance, gave her an idea of where they’d ended up.

Blackhawk Security. His new employer.

Anthony shouldered his way out of the vehicle and rounded back to open her door for her, weapon in hand. Always the gentleman, always prepared for the worst.

“I’ve got to say, I never imagined you working in the private sector.” He certainly hadn’t been willing to change careers when they’d been a couple.

She slid out of the SUV, but fell into him when another round of pain shot across her shoulder. With one hand on his chest to keep from face-planting on the cement, she tried to ignore the seductive heat snaking through her. Being shot at, taking a bullet—that she could handle. It’d been part of her job since the day she’d been promoted to special agent within CID. But being this close to him, his clean, masculine scent resurrecting countless nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms... Glennon added another foot of space between them.

No. Despite her need for Anthony’s help, that was as far as it’d go between them. Nothing more. She pulled away. Her voice wavered as she forced her gaze from his. Or was it from the blood loss? “What finally made you decide to leave the wars behind?”

“We need to take a look at that wound.” He slammed the door closed behind her and headed for the single elevator on the north side of the parking garage. Studying their surroundings, he adjusted his vest. Ready for anything.

A rush of warmth crawled into her neck and face as she kept on his heels. The elevator doors closed behind them, her stomach dropping as they ascended to the top floor. Whether it was from the change in elevation or being caged in a small container with the one man she thought she’d never see again, she didn’t know. Didn’t matter. She had a job to do and the bullet tearing through her left shoulder should’ve kept reminding her of that.

With a muted ding, the elevator doors parted and they stepped onto a darkened floor. It was after hours. Most Blackhawk Security personnel had obviously gone home for the day, but Anthony led her to a single lit room at the end of the hall.

A breathtaking view of the Chugach Mountain range took up the entire east side of the floor, and her insides ached. This had been her home for most of her life. She’d loved it. The wildlife, the snow, the sunsets and beautiful lakes. Leaving this city—she glanced at Anthony—leaving him had been one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made. Even if it had been the only option at the time.

“I’ve already called in the rest of the team.” Anthony diverted her to a hallway to his left, bypassing an occupied conference room, and motioned her inside the first door. “But I’m going to check out that wound first.”

“Like I said back at the scene, I’m fine.” She’d taken a bullet before. And lived. But he didn’t need to know the details of that particular investigation. “I came to you to keep me alive, and so far, you’ve done a bang-up job. Now, let me do mine.”

She made her way back to their original route and swung the floor-to-ceiling oak door open with her uninjured arm. The large conference room was dominated by men and women she assumed made up the founding core of Blackhawk Security. One stood immediately, striding toward her with his hand extended. He was muscular, although not quite as big as Anthony. Dark hair and a five-o’clock shadow were eclipsed by his sharp sea-blue eyes. “Sullivan Bishop, CEO of Blackhawk Security. You must be Ms. Chase. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Sergeant Chase.” Probably nothing good, considering how things had ended between her and Anthony. She wrapped her blood-free hand around Sullivan’s calloused grip. “But as much as I love the chitchat, I don’t have a lot time. My partner is missing and the longer I’m here, the less likely I’ll find him alive. So I need Anthony to help in the recovery. I’ll pay whatever fee you set. There’s just one condition—you can’t involve the authorities or the army.”

“All right. Then let’s get to the point, Sergeant.” Sullivan threw Anthony an amused smile before dropping her hand and folding his arms across his chest. His stance screamed military—wide legs, impossible to push over if she tried. A SEAL, if she had to guess. She could tell by the haircut. “Who put that bullet in your shoulder and why?”

Anthony threaded his fingers around her uninjured arm, hiking her into his side. “She needs to get this wound checked before we get into this.”

Hadn’t they already covered this?

“I have no idea.” Stinging pain worked through her as she wrenched out of his hold to take a seat. As much as she appreciated his concern, they didn’t have time for this. Flashes of the night’s events were fresh in her mind and she needed to remember every detail. Talking it through was the only way to do that. The shooter could be anywhere by now.

Collapsing back into one of the leather chairs, she exhaled hard, checking her wound. No major damage. She’d live, but she’d need a good cleaning, and stitches front and back. “But I’m positive it has to do with my partner’s disappearance. I tracked Sergeant Spencer’s phone GPS to that location. Obviously someone doesn’t want me following in his footsteps.”

Anthony took a seat two chairs down, her awareness of him at an all-time high.

“Could it have been your partner who pulled that trigger?” Another member of the team leaned forward in his chair, fingers laced on the dark reflective wood. His expression seemed to light up at the idea.

She’d done research on the people in this room before dialing Anthony’s number. Sullivan Bishop: CEO. Elizabeth Dawson: network security. Kate Monroe: profiler. Vincent Kalani: forensics. She’d had to know what kind of support—if any—she’d have access to during her off-the-books investigation. But something about Elliot Dunham, Blackhawk Security’s con-artist-turned-private-investigator, made her hope the firm had a whole lot of hazard insurance to keep him on their payroll. “It’s not him. I know Bennett. He’d never take a shot at me.”

“It’s amazing what some people will do to keep their secrets safe.” Elliot smiled. “And going to the police is a bad idea because...?”

All eyes landed on her, a physical pressure holding Glennon in her chair. “The fewer people involved, the better.”

She had her own secrets. Granted they wouldn’t stay buried forever, but she wasn’t about to reveal them right here, right now. And not to these people. She glanced toward her ex-fiancé, every muscle in her body strung tight. A rush of dizziness crashed through her and she checked her stained shirt. Too much blood loss. Damn it. Maybe she should’ve listened to him after all. She couldn’t go on like this much longer.

Gripping the table hard, Glennon tried to breathe through the darkness closing around the edges of her vision. “On second thought, I think I’ll take you up on that patch job now.”

Chapter Two

Memories could only get a man so far.

Having Glennon here, his hands on her skin, resurrected those irrational feelings he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wiped the excess blood from her wound, doing everything in his power not to crowd her as he worked. That was the thing about Glennon. She urged him to get closer, pulling him in with her scent, the brightness in her gaze and her smile. But she’d made herself perfectly clear when she’d tugged her arm out of his hold in the conference room. Calling him tonight had been strictly business.

“How bad is it?” A hiss escaped from between her teeth as he inspected the wound for shrapnel, but she turned her head away to hide her reaction. Exhaustion wreaked havoc under her eyes, but she wouldn’t admit she needed sleep. Wouldn’t admit she needed anything. Always insisted on taking care of herself. Which made her asking for his help in the middle of the night...suspicious.

“Could’ve been worse. Looks like a through-and-through. Just the one piece of shrapnel.” He’d seen plenty of bullet wounds on tour. Not for the faint of heart, but she held her own.

Anthony discarded the sliver of metal and bloody gauze into the biohazard bin then reached for the needle and thread he’d already prepped. Crude, but she’d asked for a fast patch job. No anesthetic. No doctor consult.

“Good.” Glennon tugged at her T-shirt and sports bra to give him better access. All that perfect, creamy skin exposed only for him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Pinching the wound with sanitized hands, he sutured the sides closed. The rise and fall of her lean shoulders set his heart rate at an easy rhythm. As much as he’d wanted to hunt down that shooter on his own to make the bastard pay for putting a bullet in her, relief spread through him. She was alive. That was all that mattered. She’d asked him to protect her, and he’d done his job. But pulling bullet fragments from her shoulder wouldn’t be the end of it. Not in the least.

Silence descended in a physical pressure against his chest. He’d imagined this day, the one where he’d be face-to-face with her again. He’d demand a reason for her leaving, try to explain why he’d gone on yet another tour. The conversations had played through his head on a near constant loop since the day he’d come home to the empty house they’d shared. But none of his fantasies had included a bullet in her shoulder or Glennon centered in a sniper’s crosshairs. He swallowed back violent ideas of revenge sprinting through his head. He had to focus on something else. Anything else but her. “How old is your son?”

The idea she’d been with other men since leaving—had had a child with one of them—tightened the muscles down his spine. It shouldn’t have. They hadn’t been together in five years. So why did the thought of her moving on make him tighten his grip around the needle?

Her rough exhale cooled the overheated skin down his forearm. “I think it’d be better for both of us if we stick to talking about Bennett’s disappearance, don’t you?”

“All right.” Anthony tied off the suture and used the scissors from the first-aid kit to clip it short. He taped a piece of gauze over her wound to keep the stitches dry then disinfected and packed up the medical supplies. The patch job disappeared as she maneuvered her clothing back into place.

Focus on her missing partner? No problem. Compartmentalization had become one of his best skills. He exhaled to rid his system of her intoxicating scent, the one that kept pulling him in closer. “Our forensics guy, Vincent, pulled the bullet from the windshield of the SUV, but we won’t know where it came from for a few more hours. You can grab a change of clothes from Elizabeth and crash in one of the empty offices until then.”

“No.” Glennon shook her head as she hiked her jacket over her shoulder, wincing. “I’ll take the change of clothes, but I’m going back to that house as soon as possible.”

He faced her. Go back? Was she insane? Before he knew it, he was in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. An icy feeling crashed through him. He’d almost lost her back at that house. Now she wanted to put her life in danger a second time in less than two hours? His six-foot-four-inch frame towered over her but Glennon held her ground. “Because one bullet wound wasn’t enough? Are you going for a shot in the head this time?”

“I came here to find my partner and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she said. “Sergeant Spencer’s GPS put him in that house for over twenty-four hours. And since I didn’t have a chance to search the place properly before someone tried to shoot me, I’m going back. You can either come with me to make sure it doesn’t happen again or give me a set of car keys. Your choice.”

“You could’ve died back there, Glennon.” Right in front of him, no less. And that wasn’t an option. He’d seen enough death in combat to last him two lifetimes. He wasn’t going for three. Her natural warmth worked through his T-shirt, raising his awareness of how close he’d gotten to her. Or maybe it was the flat-out fear of her taking another bullet that put him on edge. “You’re not stepping out of this building without protection.”

“Good. Then we have a deal. Now let’s get to work.” She stepped away from him, slowly this time, but the pressure in his lungs refused to let up. That seemed to happen a lot since she’d come back into his life a few hours ago.

Despite the size of the medical suite, Glennon took her original seat beside him. She extracted her phone from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “Bennett sent me a message right before he disappeared.”

“‘I found proof.’” Anthony noted the edge of the photo behind the message, a boy with buzzed blond hair and the hint of a wide smile, but nothing more. Had to be her son. Maybe four years old. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know. He won’t answer my calls and hasn’t been seen since for me to ask him.” She took the phone and shut off the screen. “I called in a favor from a friend stationed on base and downloaded the GPS data from Bennett’s phone. His last reported location was that house.”

“Family? Friends? Girlfriend? Kids?” Despite his gut instincts, her partner’s disappearance might not have anything to with the assignment that’d brought them to Anchorage at all. Could’ve been a breakdown, a piece of Sergeant Spencer’s past his partner or the army knew nothing about. Elliot Dunham’s earlier observation soured on his tongue. This whole disappearing act might’ve been set up by Bennett himself, a way to get him out of trouble. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen enlisted soldiers leave their post.

“No. He didn’t have anyone as far as I know, but he hasn’t been acting like himself since we got here. Closed off. Showing up late to work if he shows up at all.” Glennon shook her head as she leaned back in the chair. “Unfortunately, our assignments don’t really let us keep in contact with many people outside of work.”

That meant Sergeant Spencer had no one to come looking for him. Except Glennon.

“I’m out of leads.” Disappointment clouded her normally bright gaze. “I’m worried he’s gotten in over his head with something.”

“You want to go back to that house to find the shooter who put a bullet in you.” Not a question. He could read her intentions in the way she rubbed at the hole in her shoulder. The plan made sense. Despite the fact that the idea of her stepping foot in that house hiked his pulse higher, it was their best lead to finding her partner.

Then again, Anthony wanted—no, needed—to hunt down the bastard who’d ambushed them, too. One way or another, he’d even the score.

“I don’t think someone taking shots at me tonight was a coincidence, and I don’t think you do, either.” She had that right, but chances of the shooter staying behind after they’d high-tailed it out of there were slim.

“I know things—” she laced her fingers together and set her elbows against her knees “—didn’t end well... But I’m hoping we can move past this awkwardness—or whatever it is—between us. I can only imagine how much you hate me for leaving, but I appreciate your help.” A half-smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Truce?”

“I don’t hate you, Glennon. Trust me, I’ve tried.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about their meaning. But it was the truth. Anthony leaned back in the office chair, his shoulder holster and Beretta within reach on the countertop. “Tell me about the work you two have been doing. Is there a chance someone—a suspect—might be looking for payback from one of your investigations?”

“Bennett and I have been partners for over three years. We’ve worked a lot of investigations together. If one of those is the starting-off point, I couldn’t tell you which one.” Glennon wiped her palms down the legs of her blood-spotted jeans. “And I’ve been through them all. Several times. Nothing has stuck out.”

“Then tell me about your current investigation,” he said.

“For the past year we’ve been looking into dozens of individual thefts of military weapons off army bases around the country. Most recently, a shipment of hardware has disappeared right here out of Anchorage. Usually, within a couple weeks, the weapons turn up on the black market or in the hands of our enemies, but not this time. Not a single weapon registered as stolen has turned up, which made us think whoever took them might be sticking around.”

Glennon swiped the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, running one hand through her hair before sitting forward again. “So, about two months ago, Bennett had the idea of mapping the locations of each theft, and checking those locations against enlisted soldiers stationed there at the same time. Only one name kept coming up. Staff Sergeant Nicholas Mascaro. It was a huge win for the army. After Bennett and I turned in our report and handed over all the evidence we’d collected, Nicholas Mascaro was court-martialed and convicted.”

“I heard about the investigation against Mascaro.” Even after leaving the military, he still had contacts. Although, he hadn’t known she’d been involved so closely in the staff sergeant’s arrest. A swell of pride rushed through him and he straightened a bit more. She was a damn fine investigator, no doubt about it. But something didn’t sit right. Anthony thought back to his source. “But there’s no way one man could run that kind of operation on his own.”

“You’re right.” Glennon sat back in her chair. “Despite what Bennett and I wrote in our report, the army couldn’t definitively tie anyone else to the staff sergeant, let alone place him at the head of the entire operation. And he’s not giving up any names. So Mascaro made a deal and the investigation was officially closed.”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “Then why are you and your partner here?”

“A second shipment of weapons was stolen from JBER three days ago. After Nicholas Mascaro was arrested. Bennett believed someone took control of the operation while their patsy took the fall.” Glennon stood. Collecting his weapon and holster from the countertop to her right, she offered it to him, grip first. “And I think he was trying to tell me he found the proof.”

* * *

THE HOUSE HADN’T changed in the last two hours, aside from the extra bullet holes peppering the walls. Fresh blood spatters added to the stains on the west side of the living room. Her blood. The hole in her shoulder ached as if to remind her of the last time she’d stood in this spot. Her attention slid to Anthony as he riffled through a stack of old newspapers, the muscles along his back hardening with every move. If he hadn’t been there...

Memories of her four-year-old flashed across her mind like lightning. His blond hair, his perfect smile, the way he’d held on to her so tight before she’d left.

Hunter was fine. He was safe. She’d made sure of it. And if anything did happen to her, he’d be cared for. Arranging his future in case something happened to her had been the only way she could track down Bennett without the army at her disposal.

Glennon ignored the tightness in her throat as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. He was fine.

Focus. There had to be some kind of evidence pointing to the reason Bennett had come here. She kicked at a loose floorboard, but the space underneath had either never been used or been emptied out. They’d been here an hour and come up with nothing. No bullet casings. No new skid marks on the road aside from theirs. Nothing from the neighbors. Whoever had taken those shots had been either a professional or a soldier.

Glennon laughed to herself. She was getting ahead of herself. They had nothing tying Bennett’s disappearance to her current investigation or the military. For all she knew, he’d needed a couple days away from the pressure of the marshal breathing down their necks for results. Her gut instincts said they were connected, but the courts didn’t prosecute based off something that couldn’t be proved.

“Anything on your side?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Straightening, Anthony stretched to his full, muscular height. The beginnings of sunrise glinted off a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead as he ran a hand down his face. He’d come prepared. Well, more prepared than usual. The Beretta in his shoulder holster had a couple new friends hidden in his cargo pants, his Kevlar vest, even the holster strapped around his thigh. He wasn’t about to be taken by surprise again. “You?”

She studied him from the safe distance she’d decided to put between them back in the medical suite. At least three feet of space separating them at all times. That’d be the only way she could think straight during their time together. Although, now that she watched him, her body urged her to close that space. Five tours in extreme conditions ranging from jungle to desert hadn’t taken away from his overall attractiveness. Hardened him, yes, but not in a bad way. And damn if that didn’t resurrect some of those feelings she’d buried. But she hadn’t come back here to make the same mistakes. She hadn’t even planned on seeing him at all during her assignment on JBER.

“Glennon?” The weight of those dark blue eyes pinned her to the spot.

“No. Nothing.” Glennon sank against one wall, exhaustion pulling at her. She wiped a bead of sweat off her neck. What were they supposed to do now? She had zero jurisdiction off base as long as Bennett’s disappearance was considered a simple missing persons case. And she couldn’t bring in the local police. Not yet. Not until she could guarantee her name would be left out of the reports. “Has your computer expert come back with a history on this place yet? Who owns it?”

“Last time I checked in, Elizabeth was working her way through an entire network of shell corporations without any end in sight,” he said.

Defeat spread fast. Her partner had been here. How could he disappear without anything to show for it? This couldn’t be it. She’d been trained for this. She couldn’t have failed him already. Stalking across the empty living room, she picked up an old two-by-four covered in spider webs. “There has to be something here.”

She shoved every ounce of energy into her swing. The board vibrated in her hands with each strike, pain exploding through her shoulder. She didn’t care. Pins and needles crawled up her arms as mildewed drywall peeled away from the wall, but she wouldn’t stop. Not until she found a clue.

“Glennon.” The concern in Anthony’s tone tunneled deep into her bones, but she only pushed herself harder.

She wasn’t leaving this house until she had proof Bennett had been here. It was the only lead she had. He was the only person who could help her bring down the rest of Staff Sergeant Mascaro’s team. Another streak of sweat slipped from her hairline and down her neck. Why was it so damn hot in here? Shouldn’t the gas company have turned off the furnace when the house was abandoned?

A calloused grip encased her hands from behind, his arms caging her against a wall of muscle. Anthony turned her into him and Glennon froze. The lines at the edges of his eyes creased as he stared down at her. His grip still wrapped around hers, he studied her with determination etched into his features. “We’re going to find your partner. I promise.”

Promises. What good were they when nobody lived up to them? Glennon nodded, her attention wandering to the condensation building on the large front window. “It’s twenty degrees outside. Nobody has lived in this house for years.” The two-by-four grew heavy in her hold. She dropped it to her side but didn’t let go. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“Because someone turned on the furnace.” The revelation hardened Anthony’s expression. He stepped away, surveying the rest of the room before unholstering the Beretta at his side. Checking the magazine, he chambered a round into the barrel. The action, so simple, forced her to swallow the tightness in her throat. This was what he did best, what she’d tracked him down for, but the sudden change consuming him from head to toe urged her to take a step back. She’d read his classified files. She understood what the “Grim Reaper” was capable of and a shiver ran through her. “Stay behind me.”

“What makes you think you get to have all the fun?” Setting the two-by-four on the moldy carpeting as quietly as she could, Glennon took his left side as she withdrew her service weapon. One bullet. That was all it’d take to seal her and her partner’s fates. The army would court-martial Bennett for going MIA, no matter what his reason, and drag her through the mud alongside him. She shifted her finger off the safety. Couldn’t happen.

They moved as one, just as they had when he’d gotten her out of the house the first time, her steps in sync with his. Nervous energy skittered up her spine. She’d gone into plenty of dangerous situations like this before. Soldiers-turned-criminals, bullets, blood. Every investigation she’d worked had left its own mark. It was part of the job. But moving along this hallway, with him by her side, sent a tingling sensation down her spine that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Moonlight filtered through broken windows and bullet holes the shooter had added to the walls, playing across Anthony’s face as he stalked through the house. For such a large man, he barely made a sound. He motioned with two fingers to their right. The signal was clear. They’d reached the stairs leading to the basement. And whoever had turned on the furnace after the shootout could still be down there.

Anticipation hummed through her veins. Glock raised to eye level, she fought off the shot of pain spreading through her shoulder. She was ready. This was it. With a single nod, Glennon took the first step. The unfinished wood groaned under her weight, and she paused to listen. No movement below. Nothing to suggest they were in for another ambush, but she wouldn’t relax just yet. She’d had too many close calls already. Her mouth dried up; her breathing became shallow.

She paused on the last step, nothing but darkness ahead. Something brushed across her right side. Anthony. His clean, masculine scent filled her lungs, and she surveyed the full unfinished basement before they made their next move. But something charred and rotten replaced his scent within a few seconds of her hitting the bottom stair. She covered her mouth and nose in the crook of her elbow. “I recognize that smell.”

She’d come across it only once since she’d been with the Military Police. An arson investigation at Pope Army Airfield in North Carolina, one of her first for the army. The fire had consumed an entire C-130J Hercules plane right before takeoff. The pilot had been sealed in the cockpit after an altercation with another airman. The smell. That was what she remembered most. “Charred remains.”

Reaching for the flashlight strapped into her Kevlar vest, she brought it to life and swept the beam across the floor. Large boot prints had been preserved in a thin layer of dust. Fresh, from the look of it. But the uneven lines beside them? Those were drag marks.

A groan interrupted the heavy silence and they swung their weapons to the left in tandem. Anthony’s boots hit solid cement. Weapon aimed high, he moved farther into the darkness.

Dread sank like a stone to the bottom of Glennon’s stomach as she followed suit.

A click of his flashlight expanded their visibility, but only slightly. There were still three other corners of the room they couldn’t see, but her gut told her whoever had turned on the furnace had disappeared long before they’d showed up. Still, she couldn’t shake the vein of ice working its way up her throat. Whatever was down here—whatever they found—would make or break her investigation into Bennett’s disappearance.

They reached the furnace as it kicked on for another round, the struggling mechanical groan raising the hairs on the back of Glennon’s neck.

Holstering his weapon, Anthony ran his fingers over the side of the unit then lowered his flashlight beam to the floor. Four screws had fallen into the dust building up around the furnace. Glennon holstered her own gun as he handed her the flashlight. The reverberation of metal on cement as he set the panel down vibrated through her. A rush of foul air hit her hard and she buried her mouth and nose into her elbow. Anthony did the same, reaching into the unit with his free hand.

His mountainous physique blocked her view into the blackened depths. “Can you see anything?”

“Yep.” A hiss escaped from between his teeth. He turned toward her, the burned remnants of a rifle highlighted by the flashlight beam. “What’s left of a Heckler & Koch G28 sniper rifle. Still hot, too. Safe to assume it’s the same model used to put a bullet in your shoulder three hours ago.”

“The shooter tried to clean up his mess by destroying the gun in the furnace.” Not a bad idea. But that left them no closer to recovering her partner. Unless... Hope spread through her chest as she stepped closer to him. “You’re the weapons expert. Do you think any fingerprints survived to track down the owner?”

Leaving the rifle inside, Anthony shifted out of her way so she could see the rest of the furnace, both flashlights highlighting what else had been stuffed inside. “Looks like we already found him.”

Chapter Three

Red-and-blue patrol lights deepened the shadows under Glennon’s eyes as she watched the scene from the SUV. When was the last time she’d slept? Twenty-four hours ago? More? He couldn’t imagine the thoughts running through her head as the remains of her best lead were loaded into the back of the coroner’s van.

Anthony had kept her name out of his statement to Anchorage PD after he’d put in the initial call about an incinerated body in the furnace. Whatever was going on here—whoever had killed the shooter who’d ambushed them—it had obviously been to keep Glennon off the investigation into her missing partner. His gaze drifted back to her. She’d been right from the start. Sergeant Spencer’s disappearance had something to do with the missing shipment of weapons. Why else would a shooter try to take her out, too?

“We’re done here,” he told the officer. “You know how to contact me at Blackhawk Security if you have any other questions.”

He had to get her to safety, someplace off-the-grid where nobody—not even his team—could find her. Where he could protect her. Anthony maneuvered around the officer and headed for the SUV.

Glennon followed his movements slowly.

Wrenching the vehicle door open, he dropped into the driver’s seat. Her sweet scent hit him hard, but he didn’t try to fight it off this time. After the night they’d had, he needed that piece of her with him. He breathed her in a bit deeper. Anything to ease the tension of nearly losing her all over again tonight. Spots of blood seeped through her bandage.

“What did you tell them?” she asked.

He turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled to life and he forced his eyes to focus on the road. “That we were looking to spice things up in our sex life.”

She smoothed her expression. “And they believed you?” Motioning to his clothing, she leaned against the passenger-side door. “You, in all this Kevlar, with at least three weapons strapped to your chest? They believed you?”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t give them your real name.” In reality, Anchorage PD hadn’t asked too many questions about what he’d been doing in the house at all. After what had happened back in November, they recognized him and understood what kind of work he did on a regular basis. And who he did it for. Blackhawk Security had become a company the police could rely on after its CEO, Sullivan Bishop, had taken down one of the worst stalkers in city history, a case the department had moved to the bottom of their priority list. Anthony shoved the vehicle into Drive.

“Very funny.” She crossed her arms over her chest, accentuating the lean muscles through her forearms. “What are you doing? We can’t leave.” She surveyed the cul-de-sac as he swung the SUV around, spinning her upper body toward him from the passenger seat. Her icy glare shot through him, but he wasn’t about to stop. “That body is our only lead to finding my partner. Do you trust the police to fill us in if they find something?”

“We searched every inch of that house tonight, sweetheart. What exactly are you hoping they’re going to find that we couldn’t?” Anthony pressed his foot down on the accelerator when they hit Spenard Thruway. “Besides, you’re beat. We need to take a look at that wound again, then you’re going to get some sleep while we wait for the ballistics report on that bullet to come in.”

“I’m fine.” She settled back into her seat. “And don’t call me sweetheart. You’re here to protect me while I search for Bennett. Nothing more.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tightening his grip around the steering wheel, Anthony studied Westchester Lagoon as they headed south. Nothing but blackness and the hint of lapping waves stared back at him. Wasn’t that just the perfect metaphor for the growing silence between him and Glennon? Damn, he’d screwed things up with her to hell and back. He should’ve been there for her while he’d still had the chance, should’ve been satisfied with what he’d done for his country the first four times instead of hopping on the next transport. Maybe then she wouldn’t treat him as though he were a stranger now.

He headed farther south, out of the city. Miles of nothing but trees and starlit sky stretched out before them. It was the best place to hide. No one would be able to track them out here. And even if they did, he’d be ready. The familiar rise and fall of the south end of the Chugach Mountains indicated they were close. A few more minutes and he could relax in his own territory.

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice barely overrode the sound of the heater, and he chanced a quick glance toward her. Adrenaline could only take the human body so far, and Glennon’s supply had run out. Lids closing, she fought to stay awake, but wouldn’t last much longer.

“Where no one can find us.” Within a few minutes, gravel crunched under the SUV’s tires as he pulled into a long driveway. The cabin was dark. Isolated. And, after discovering the shooter’s body in that furnace, it was the best chance they had of recovering in peace.

He pulled to a stop beside the small lakeside cabin and then unloaded his gear as she made her way inside.

Dropping everything on the floor, Anthony turned on the nearest light switch. “The place isn’t much, but it’s fully stocked and secure.” He studied her expression, trying to read any sign of what she had planned for their next move, but she’d always kept a good handle on the thoughts running through her head. “You can take the guest room at the back. Bathroom is right next door to it. Just the one, unfortunately, so we’ll have to share. I never bring anyone up here.”

“Never?” She surveyed the two-bedroom, one-bathroom space then moved to the front window. “It’s perfect. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” He liked his solitude, but liked it better with her here. Hoisting his bags over his shoulder, he felt the first effects of having gone over twenty-four hours without sleep. Her call had pulled him off another assignment, but he couldn’t fault her for that. “Let me unpack my gear while you settle in, and I’ll bring you something to eat in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” She forced a smile but the exhaustion weighing her down didn’t let it reach her eyes. She headed for the back of the cabin empty-handed, taking nearly every ounce of his control with her. Damn, he’d missed her, and no matter how many times she reminded him nothing would happen between them again, he couldn’t help but imagine what they could’ve been together. Stopping shy of the hallway, Glennon turned back. “For everything.”

Ten minutes later her voice stopped him just outside her cracked door, only a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. He pushed it open a few inches.

“I know what I said.” Her back was to him where she sat on the bed, but her words registered crystal-clear. “Things are...more complicated than I thought they’d be here. It’ll be a couple more days. Can you please put him on the phone? I just need to hear his voice.” Dressed in a set of his oversize T-shirt and sweats, Glennon shifted on the guest bed, head down, legs stretched in front of her and ran her hand through her hair. The sight rocketed his pulse into dangerous territory. “Hey, baby.” Her voice lightened in an instant, a beautiful smile spreading across her expression. “I know. I’m sorry I woke you. I just missed you so much. Are you being good for Grandma?”

Anthony settled against the door frame, entranced by the sudden shift in her mood. The plate grew heavy in his hand, but he’d stand there all night if there was a chance he’d get a glimpse of that smile again.

“You went to the zoo without me? That sounds fun. Can I call you again tomorrow so you can tell me more about it?” Those mesmerizing green eyes brighter than he’d ever seen, she leaned back against the headboard and crossed her legs over the pillow top. A laugh escaped from between her perfectly pink lips, tightening his insides. “Okay. Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll see you soon.”

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. In the few seconds she’d spoken to her son, he’d felt her undeniable love, and something inside him splintered. He gripped the plate hard. She would’ve made an amazing mother to their kids. Hell, she was obviously an amazing mother already. Couldn’t even keep herself from calling her son so early in the morning. Anthony ignored the tightness in his throat and straightened. Didn’t matter. She’d made it clear how their relationship would proceed. As partners. Nothing more.

With three knocks, he shouldered his way into the room with everything on a plate. “Hungry? I made your favorite. Aspirin, clean gauze and my special egg salad sandwich.”

“Yeah.” Glennon shot off the mattress, wiping at her face. A split second later she turned toward him again, locking down any hint of emotion. She sniffed as she maneuvered around the bed. “I’m starving. Thanks.”

His stomach sank. She was getting far too skilled at hiding those emotions of hers, to the point he questioned whether he’d really seen her smile a few minutes ago. “Was it something I said?”

“What? No. It’s not you. I appreciate you letting me stay here.” She shook her head, a flush of pink rising in her cheeks. Her long fingers brushed against his as she reached for the plate. Heat seared through him as she took a step back and raised the plate in acknowledgment. “And for the food. I—”

“You miss your son.” He’d read it in the way her skin had paled in the few short moments after she’d disconnected the call, in the way her tears had dried a path down her cheeks.

“Stupid, right? I mean, he’s safe. That’s all that matters. Nobody knows about him. Not the army. Not his father. I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” A weak smile played across her mouth. Shoulders rising on a deep inhale, she glanced up at him, signs of her apparent misery wiped clean from her expression. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your egg salad. Every time I’ve tried to re-create the recipe, it turns out wrong. I finally gave up trying.”

“I add hot sauce at the end.” Okay. He’d pretend she hadn’t let a piece of herself out into the open.

Anthony backed toward the hallway, reaching for the doorknob to close it behind him. “Get some rest, change your gauze. The ballistics report should be here soon. We’ll figure out our next move then.”

“Listen, I know things are different between us now, but I’ve had a hell of a day.” Her lips parted as she took a single step forward and, for the first time, he noted the dark swirl of purple nail polish on her bare feet. She glanced at her cell phone on the nightstand. “Hunter usually sleeps in my bed, and I won’t be able to sleep unless...”

Grip tight on the doorknob, Anthony froze. Pressure built in his lungs.

She locked her gaze on him, determined, sincere. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

* * *

WHAT HAD SHE been thinking?

She hadn’t. That had been one of the problems whenever Glennon was around him. She couldn’t think straight. And here, in a small lakeside cabin filled with his scent, with him mere inches from her, she’d must’ve lost her damn mind. She ran her free hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’d used to try to relieve some tension over the past few years. Without success.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Anthony released the door handle, his tone registering exactly how much she’d already asked of him in the last four hours. Too much. Especially for a man she’d walked out on while he was in the middle of serving his country, a decision she’d regret for the rest of her life.

“No.” Heat rose up her neck and flooded her face. She shook her head, forcing another smile she didn’t feel. Her fingers tingled, urging her to run her hand through her hair one more time, but she rolled them into a fist at her side instead. Taking another step toward him, she focused on the raised outline of a chain hidden under his shirt. Dog tags? “And I don’t have any right to ask after everything you’ve done for me already. But the past couple days have been a nightmare and I need...I need you to stay.”

Anthony swayed on his feet as though he intended to back toward the door. His full beard kept her from reading his expression entirely, but his eyes had always been the window to his thoughts. Gorgeous, dark blue eyes she’d tried for years to forget. And right now, the battle swirling in their depths was spreading across his features. His brows drew inward as he ran a hand down his beard. “Glennon—”

“Please.” She fought the urge to grip his shirt to keep him from leaving. Notching her chin higher, she studied the face she’d missed since the day she’d left. “If it helps, I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

“It’s not your hands I’m worried about.” He moved into her. A rush of his reinvigorated, clean, masculine scent filled her lungs as her brain fought to catch up. Had he showered while she’d been on the phone with Hunter? Only the thin fabric of a T-shirt she’d found in one of the dresser drawers separated them. He kept his touch light, giving her enough room to escape if she wanted to. Which she should. Because she’d most definitely violated her three-foot rule. “Do you ever think of what might’ve happened if you hadn’t left?”

Glennon swallowed hard, her pulse pounding behind her ears as she set the plate of food, the painkillers and gauze on the bed. No point in lying. He knew her too well. She passed her tongue across her too-dry lips as he stared down at her as though she were the only woman in the world who mattered to him. “Sometimes.”

All the time. The only way she’d been able to give those thoughts a break over the last five years was by throwing herself into her work and into being there for her son. Throwing herself into everything that didn’t include Anthony Harris. She’d made her choice then and she stood by it now. She’d suffer the consequences, no matter how many times she’d thought of coming home. She stared at the open door behind him for a moment, into the darkness of the cabin.

“Sometimes I think I could’ve changed your mind, convinced you I was enough for you to stay home.” The comforting warmth rolling off him in waves urged her to stay put. It’d been a long time since she’d gotten lost in somebody’s touch, relied on someone other than herself. She’d almost forgotten what intimacy felt like since becoming a single mother. It’d be easy to give in to him. Right here, right now. Forget about her missing partner, forget how lonely she’d been over the last few years, and just do something for herself for a change. But extricating herself from a romantic relationship with this man had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Something she wasn’t interested in doing again, not with Hunter involved.

“But that was a long time ago. Things have changed.” Glennon stepped out of his hold, the rough calluses on his palms catching on the cotton shirt she’d borrowed. “And it finally took me leaving to realize changing your mind was one case I’d never have closure to.”

Disappointment darkened his features. “You were always enough for me, Glennon. More than enough.” His tone dipped into dangerous territory, raising tiny goose bumps on her arms. He countered the step she’d taken to the point where she had to stare up at him. “You were the only person who could help me forget what I’d seen every time I came home. You were the one I trusted to keep my head on straight, to bring me back to who I really was. Not the soldier. Me. You were everything.”

Her knees shook, the blood drained from her face. As Military Police, she’d walked into dozens of situations more confident than she felt in this moment. This wasn’t the plan. The rules had been plain. No matter how many times the past came back to haunt her, she’d keep herself in check. But now... “I didn’t know that.”

The muted ding from his phone released the pressure building behind her sternum. Saved by the bell. She took the opportunity to distance herself from his reach as Anthony checked the screen. Sitting on the bed, she stared down at her hands as her stomach flipped. From hunger or from the sincerity in his voice, she had no idea. Didn’t matter. She could only fix one of those things at the moment. The other? Couldn’t happen again. Nothing could happen between them again.

“The ballistics report came in early,” he said. “Vincent’s contacts in forensics were able to lift a print from the homemade bullet recovered from the windshield.”

So much for getting a couple hours of sleep. Glennon shoved off from the bed, a strike of pain spreading across her shoulder. She massaged the area around the wound as she moved to view the screen. He flipped through the report too fast for her to see specifics, but one line stood out among the rest, highlighted on the phone’s screen.

“Private First Class Gani Miller.” The name sounded familiar on her lips. But where had she read it before?

“Left the army because of a dishonorable discharge, now makes his living as a gun for hire. Paid to take you out.” Anthony swiped his thumb across the screen to the next page. “I’ll have Elizabeth look into his financials to find out who hired him.”

Glennon stayed put as he called the former NSA consultant. Mentally sifting through her investigations for the army, she studied the recliner tucked into the corner of the room, but couldn’t really focus on anything in particular. Where had she heard that name before? A shooter for hire had most likely made his way to the top of her Most Wanted list, but that wasn’t it. She reviewed the list every morning before heading onto the base, and Private Gani Miller’s name hadn’t been on there as of yesterday. “Do you have a laptop here?”

Anthony spun toward her. “I packed one in my gear. Gray duffel bag in the hallway.”

In less than two minutes she’d powered the laptop up and logged in with the username and password Anthony had written down for her while on the phone with Elizabeth. The screen came to life as she settled back on the bed.

Her heart skipped a beat.

There, in the center of the black desktop background, was a photo of...her. Smiling, arms wrapped around her brand-new fiancé. The memories of that day interrupted her concentration as she zeroed in on the yellow-gold engagement ring he’d slipped onto her finger moments before the photo had been taken. She’d set that same ring on the kitchen counter as she’d walked out the door for the last time five years ago. What had he done with it?

“All right.” Anthony disconnected his call. “Elizabeth is pulling everything she can find on Gani Miller as we speak. Still nothing leading back to who owns that house, though.”

Panic flooded through her. Glennon rushed to bring up the backup of her investigation files. The mattress dipped as he sat beside her. She swallowed hard then typed the shooter’s name into the search bar. No point in bringing up the past. They had more important things to worry about now. “I know I’ve heard that name before. If Private Miller has been at this for a while, he might be linked to one of my investigations.”

The fact the sniper had been military couldn’t have been a coincidence.

The search of her files came up blank.

Her eyebrows drew together. She checked that she’d spelled the shooter’s name correctly and pushed Enter a second time. Nothing. There had to be some connection. “That’s weird. I know I’ve come across that name before.”

“Are you remembering it from somewhere else?” Anthony leaned into her to get a clear shot of the screen. His powerful, muscled thigh brushed against her, and she licked her lips.

“I don’t know where else...” A single image of handwritten notes flashed across her mind. “That’s it.” Glennon checked another file, one she’d been compiling since her partner had gone missing.

“After Bennett disappeared, I searched his barracks and found a bunch of notes he’d scribbled on napkins he’d left in the trash bin. Most of it was nonsense, but that name—Gani Miller—was on one of the napkins with a few others.” She reentered her username and password to access the secure files. “I took pictures of them in case something led to Bennett’s whereabouts, and uploaded the photos to my online storage.”

A new rush of hope blossomed in the center of her chest. They had a name, a lead. She could find Bennett and get back to her life. Back to her son. Double clicking the track pad, Glennon leaned away from the laptop. No. No, no, no, no. Her throat tightened. “That’s not possible.”

“What’s not possible?” Anthony shifted the computer out of her lap and onto his own. With a few clicks of the track pad, he stroked his beard. Confusion swept across his features. “Where are the files?”

“They were there. I backed up my files from my laptop to this drive in case something happened and I couldn’t get to my computer.” Which probably meant... Glennon stood, crossing the room to the pile of clothing she’d discarded on the floor.

“And now they’re gone,” he said. “How?”

“Someone accessed my backup and deleted them.” She stripped out of the borrowed sweats then pushed her legs into her jeans, all thoughts of privacy retreating to the back of her mind. Nobody knew about those files. How had evidence catalogs, Bennett’s investigation notes, witness statements and photographs of the napkins all disappeared overnight?

“And I think I know where they’re going next.”

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