A NAVAJO UNDERCOVER AGENT COMES TO THE RESCUE OF AN INNOCENT VICTIM IN ANOTHER COPPER CANYON MYSTERY BY AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR AIMÉE THURLO.

Erin Barrett was the sole survivor of an armed assault on her company. Her saving grace? Undercover agent Kyle Goodluck, who’d grown from troubled youth to total warrior. Though he agreed to protect Erin, he still had unanswered questions. Starting with how much she could be trusted. But only Erin knew what these terrorists wanted—and were willing to kill for. Kyle just had to gauge how forthcoming she was going to be about it. Standing their ground as New Mexico heated up with cross fire, Kyle wouldn’t settle for anything less than absolute victory. And with Erin as his spirit guide, he wouldn’t have to settle for anything anymore….

“From this point on, expect the unexpected. That’s how you’ll stay alive.”

His bluntness made a chill run up her spine.

Agent Goodluck stood straight, shoulders thrown back—a warrior’s stance. The black leather jacket enhanced his powerful build. Everything about him spoke of unwavering self-assurance.

The full impact of what had happened slammed into her again. Men she’d never seen before had tried to kill her. One of the gunmen had actually died less than ten feet from her. What was worse, she might still be a target.

Tremors ripped through her and she folded her arms around her middle, as if trying to hug herself.

A heartbeat later, Kyle threw his black leather jacket over her shoulders.

“No, I’m okay,” she managed.

“You’re holding it together, but that’s not the same as okay,” he said, his voice gentle.

Maybe not, but she couldn’t show him how badly she wanted him to wrap his powerful arms around her and never let go.

Undercover Warrior

Aimée Thurlo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AIMÉE THURLO is an internationally known bestselling author of mystery and romantic suspense novels. She’s the winner of a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews, a New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction and a Willa Cather Award in the same category.

Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of forty-three years in Corrales, New Mexico, in a rural neighborhood filled with horses, alpacas, camels and other assorted livestock. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Nation. His background and cultural knowledge inspire many of her stories.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Kyle Goodluck—His last assignment for NCIS ended in tragedy. Now he was at home, working undercover, on the trail of terrorists. His chief suspect was dead, and the only witness, Erin Barrett, was under his protection. Erin was temptation itself, dangerous to be around—no matter where her loyalties lay.

Erin Barrett—Her boss, Hank Leland, was killed right before her eyes, but she’d been rescued just in time by the rugged Navajo man who insisted he was with the IRS. All she wanted in life was to raise enough money to buy her own farm. Now her life was a nightmare, and her only hope rested with a man she couldn’t trust. Kyle was destined to break her heart...if they lived long enough.

Preston Bowman—He was a Hartley detective, and Kyle was his foster brother. Together they had to learn why Hank Leland had been killed, and what his connection was to a terrorist cell planning an imminent attack. Who were Hank’s contacts, and why were they so interested in Erin Barrett?

Bruce Leland—Even Hank, his brother, couldn’t trust him, and after Hank was killed, Bruce was caught breaking into his home. Bruce was clearly a man with a gambling addiction, but was he also a traitor?

Frieda Martinez—Hank’s flashy girlfriend easily attracted men, first Bruce, then his brother. Yet the moment he was killed she dropped out of sight. Now the search was on for the woman who held the key to murder...and maybe more.

Ed Huff—He was the bartender at the Quarter Horse Bar where Frieda worked as a waitress. He knew she was trouble from the start. The woman had secrets, but Ed knew how to use those to his own advantage. Just how far he could push her was anyone’s guess.

Joe Pacheco—Joe was a retired police officer well known in the community. Now he worked for Secure Construction, Hank’s company. When Hank was killed, Joe became a target. He needed help, but Joe didn’t trust the Feds, NCIS included.

Ron Mora—The paralegal worked for Moe Jenner, Hank’s attorney. When the well-known lawyer disappeared, Ron refused to help them find his boss. Either Ron was covering for Jenner, or something illegal was going on.

Every author has special friends. This is our way of thanking those of you who have made our work possible through a smile, an encouraging word or by simply believing in us.

With that in mind, this book is dedicated to DZ, Sheila and Duffy.

Contents

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Extract

Chapter One

Kyle Goodluck liked living on the edge. He carried his NCIS badge with honor, stood tall and faced things squarely. He’d served his country well, first as a marine and now as a federal agent. This time the case he was working on had brought him back home.

Kyle watched his brother, Hartley Police Detective Preston Bowman, take a call. Preston’s face was characteristically impassive and hard. Once finished, he put the cell phone back in his pocket.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Preston said. “Now talk to me. What’s going on? I thought you were going to turn in your badge and come home for good this time.”

He wouldn’t lie to his brother, but Kyle wasn’t above sidestepping the issue. “You know how it goes. Sometimes you have to step back and think hard about long-term decisions, particularly ones that’ll affect your future.”

“So you’re not ready to talk about what’s really going on.”

He laughed. “Nothing much gets past you, does it? Forgot who I was dealing with for a sec.”

“You and I have always been able to read each other,” Preston said. “I’m guessing you’re under orders, but this is my turf. You may need my help and HPD’s cooperation somewhere along the way. Keeping us in the dark is a bad idea.”

“I hear you—loud and clear.” Preston’s warning was unmistakable. He wouldn’t take it well if an undercover op went down under his nose and he knew nothing about it. Unfortunately, orders were orders.

“I better be shoving off,” Preston said. “Where are you planning to stay? You can use the ranch house at Copper Canyon, if you want. We’ve continued with the upgrades and it’s in pretty decent shape right now. You’ve also got Hosteen Silver’s letter waiting for you there...,” he said, pausing for a reaction.

“No way I’m opening that, buddy. The first four of us who did ended up getting married. I’m leaving that envelope unopened in the desk drawer for the foreseeable future.”

“Coward.”

“Guilty,” Kyle answered laughing. “Hosteen Silver was a good hataalii,” he said, using the Navajo word for medicine man. “He could do some amazing things, like predicting future events, but sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“There’s a lot to be said for advance notice,” Preston said. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

“Maybe, but my work, my life, is all based on what happens minute by minute. The future...well, it’s still going to be there waiting for me to arrive.”

“I hear you,” Preston answered.

Kyle phone’s rang, and seeing the display, he glanced back at his brother. “I’ve got to take this.”

Preston stood. “I’m going to work. You know how to get hold of me if you need me.”

As Preston left the table, Kyle answered the call. “Kyle here.”

“We’ve had a new development,” Martin Hamilton said. “Call me back on a secure phone.”

The next thing he heard was a dial tone.

Slipping into his black leather jacket—the early-morning fall breeze was brisk—Kyle walked out to his service-provided SUV. He’d arrived about three hours ahead of the man he was supposed to tail, and had found the $100K prize waiting for him at the airport. His ride had come equipped with bulletproof windows, integral ceramic and Kevlar armor, a special mobile data terminal and satellite phone in the center console. GPS tracking gear was also hidden within the body, so his exact location would always be known to any agency with the right equipment.

Under the seat was an easy access M4 selective fire assault rifle with night vision capability and three thirty-round magazines. The spare-tire compartment contained tear gas, smoke and flashbang grenades beside a first-aid and survival kit that would provide a week of food and water for two people. No spare tire was needed because they were all run-flat, immune to road hazards, spike belts and any weapons smaller than fifty caliber.

He picked up the satellite phone and entered the number. It was answered almost immediately at the other end by a female voice he recognized.

“Hello, Kyle,” a rich, sultry voice greeted. “In place yet?”

“You bet. Just heard the boss wants to talk.”

“I know. Don’t I always? Patching you through now.”

A moment later, a male voice came through clearly. “Regarding your target, Lieutenant Henry Leland. Any suspicious activity, any contacts?”

“No. This morning Leland’s at Secure Construction. I’ve monitored his movements since his arrival. I’m currently down the street. He’s there with his regular staff.”

“Unless there’s a specific reason for keeping him under surveillance, I suggest you break cover and meet up with him. He just called NCIS and asked for our help. He says he’s being blackmailed by terrorists.”

“Interesting development. What are my orders?”

“Check out his story, then stick to him like glue. Find out every detail of what’s going on, and keep me in the loop. Leland just spent weeks in Spain at a U.S. naval base, working in restricted areas. We could be talking about a major breach in security.”

“Copy that.”

Kyle switched on the ignition, pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the street, alert for anything that might seem off or unusual. Nothing drew his attention. It was just another weekday morning in Hartley, New Mexico, a town just off the rez in the Four Corners region of the state.

This section of town was industrial, and most of the businesses were oil and gas field related. There were container-storage or building-supply warehouses and the occasional hole-in-the-wall fast-food place or gas station.

Kyle approached Secure Construction’s five-acre, fenced compound from the east, passing the large warehouse and model structures, which were facing the street for maximum exposure. Ahead was the big double gate, parking lot and offices. All the buildings were constructed from the strong, corrugated metal-ceramic laminate components the company had built its reputation upon.

Making a right hand turn through the open gates into the parking lot, Kyle noted two vehicles in front of the office. One was Hank Leland’s Silverado pickup, the same truck Kyle had bugged, followed here from the airport last night and, lastly, to Leland’s home. This morning its travel route had been more direct—home to office.

Just then a man in a light jacket and ball cap stepped out of the office’s front entrance, Leland right behind him. Another man was on Leland’s heels. Behind them, a woman was being forcibly pulled along by a third man.

Kyle recognized the stunning brunette from her file photo. It was Erin Barrett, Leland’s office manager. Either Leland and the woman had just been arrested by undercover cops, or something was seriously wrong. His gut went with the latter option.

Kyle whipped his SUV around and skidded to a stop, placing his vehicle between him and the people coming down the sidewalk.

The man closest to him suddenly raised a pistol and pointed it at Kyle. “Stay in the car!” he ordered.

“Help!” the woman screamed.

Operating on instinct and training, Kyle threw open his door, reaching for his holstered Glock at the same time his feet touched the asphalt.

The men opened fire and he ducked down, moving forward behind the engine block as he heard bullets slapping against the passenger’s side of his SUV. Taking a quick glance around the front end bumper, he saw Hank and the woman trying to pull free of their captors.

All three men had pistols out now, pointed in his direction. As Kyle ducked below the engine block, two more rounds whistled just over the hood. Kyle hit the ground, rolled left, and brought up his .40 caliber Glock.

The kidnappers sidestepped to their right, holding their hostages in front of them. They were moving too quickly for him to get a clear shot, so he rolled back to the right under the open door, jumped up and reached into the SUV. Holstering the Glock, he unhooked the latch holding the M4 assault rifle in place beneath the seat, and brought out the weapon.

Kyle ran around to the rear of his vehicle, still staying behind cover. He fed a round into the chamber, and thumbed off the safety, aiming his weapon as he came into view. The kidnappers had already slipped out of sight around the far corner of the office building, pulling along their hostages.

In a crouch, Kyle hurried to the opposite end of the building, veering to his right, sights on the back corner, waiting for someone to poke their head around.

He went down on one knee, and waited, finger on the trigger. Suddenly someone hurtled into view. His training forced him to ID the target before firing, and in that split second he saw it was the woman, Erin. She’d been shoved out to draw his fire.

“Hug the wall,” he yelled to her, firing at the corner of the building just to the right of her. There was a groan and a man staggered out into the open, pistol falling from his outstretched hand as he clutched his chest.

It wasn’t Hank—he’d known it wouldn’t be. Only the bad guys would have pushed Erin out as a target.

Whirling around to his left, he heard then saw another of the armed men who’d circled back around the front of the building. As the man raised his pistol and fired, Kyle dodged, stepping toward the side of the building and out of his line of sight. The bullet tore off a chunk of building corner, but whistled behind him.

Kyle ran to the woman, who was crouched low, hugging the wall and staring in wide-eyed shock at the man on the ground in front of her. Kyle could tell at a glance that the gunman wouldn’t be getting back up—at least not in this world. “Stay down. They’re going to circle back around to the front!”

Just to be sure, Kyle took a quick glance around the back, and, as he’d guessed, nobody was there anymore. He stepped closer, placing himself between Erin and the front, his M4 in position to take out anyone stupid enough to look around the corner.

“They’ve got Hank!” she whispered, reaching for the pistol on the ground. She pulled back the slide just enough to verify a round was in the chamber, then checked the safety.

Surprised, he looked directly at her. “You know how to use that?”

“I was born and raised in rural New Mexico. Of course I do.”

He gave her a quick grin. Beautiful and gutsy. He liked her already. “Okay. Watch yourself,” he said, never taking his eyes off the corner as he stepped forward.

Crouching low, he inched around and aimed his weapon at the two men holding Hank between them. Both were looking away, one at the far corner, the other at the street.

Silently, he moved across the gravel and managed to outflank them, placing himself in a position to cut them off if they ran for the street exit. “Put down your weapons or I’ll drop you!” he yelled.

Both spun around and fired, one shot shattering an office window behind him, the other tugging at Kyle’s left shoulder, ripping fabric not flesh.

The sudden distraction gave Hank Leland a chance. He broke free and ran for his life toward the street.

Hearing screeching tires as a gray van raced into the parking lot, Kyle hit the ground and rolled. “Hank, watch out!” he yelled seconds too late.

The van’s passenger-side front end suddenly struck Leland head-on, throwing him up into the air. Hank landed with a thud on the asphalt fifteen feet away, right in front of the fleeing gunmen.

As the van skidded to a stop, Kyle rose to one knee, weapon up. That’s when he saw the assault-rifle barrel poking from the driver’s-side window. He only had one quick look at the face but it was a woman, and she looked pissed.

He dove behind a whiskey-barrel planter to his left as a flurry of rounds dug into the ground where he’d been only a few seconds ago.

Prone, Kyle brought his M4 around and aimed it at the van. The men had stopped long enough to grab Hank by the arms and were dragging his inert form toward the van.

Kyle fired two quick rounds, aiming high, not wanting to hit Hank, but hoping to force them to let him go.

It worked. They dropped him and piled into the van.

Kyle rolled behind the barrel just as the woman fired another burst, showering him with chunks of the oak barrel. He moved to the left this time, but his own SUV was in his line of fire now, shielding the van as it backed up.

Jumping to his feet, Kyle tried to get a clear shot, but there was a school bus passing by on the street. He couldn’t risk it.

Hearing running footsteps behind him, he turned his head and saw Erin Barrett jogging toward him in a crouch, gun down at her side. Her eyes were on Hank.

As the van raced down the street and disappeared around a corner, she ran across the asphalt and knelt by the wounded man. “Hank, don’t you dare let them win. You fight and stay here with us!”

Kyle was already dialing 911 when she turned her head to look up at him, fear mirrored on her face.

“Who are you, and why didn’t you get here sooner?”

The question threw him for a beat. “I’m an agent with the IRS,” he said, using the cover that usually brought questions from the curious to an abrupt stop. “Help will be here soon,” he said, coming up to her. “Mr. Leland’s still breathing, so he’s got a chance, just don’t move him. The bleeding isn’t bad, but he undoubtedly has broken bones and internal injuries.”

She put her hand on Leland’s. “I’m here, Hank. Hang on.”

He watched her, trying to figure out if she was a well-placed mole working with terrorists, or the real deal. Until he knew, trusting her was out of the question.

Chapter Two

Erin held on to Hank’s hand and continued talking to him. She remembered someone, somewhere, saying that even if you were unconscious you might still be able to hear others.

“You can get through this,” Erin repeated, her voice trembling. Desperate to sound as if she believed what she was saying, she cleared her throat and tried again, squeezing his hand very gently. “Don’t give up.”

As the ambulance arrived and the medical team rushed over, she rose to her feet and stepped back, allowing the EMTs to work. The Navajo man who’d saved her life, shooting the gunman who’d pushed her out into the line of fire, joined her.

“What’s your name?” she managed. He was almost a foot taller than her, and his eyes were dark as midnight. They held an intensity that scared her a bit, too, even though she knew she had nothing to fear from him. If it hadn’t been for this man, she might have been dead by now.

“I’m Agent Kyle Goodluck, IRS. Who were those people with the guns? Do you know any of them?”

Goodluck... She was alive, and so was Hank at the moment, so maybe he’d lived up to his name. She tried to smile, but the sickeningly sweet scent of blood was making her head spin. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Did Hank know them?”

“I’m not sure.” Seeing him searching the ground, she added, “Did you lose something?”

“I’m hoping to find a cell phone someone may have dropped during the gun battle. Do you have yours and did Hank have one on him?”

“No. Hank said he left his at home, and mine’s on my desk. They made me leave it behind.”

Fueled by intense fear, her mind was racing. Something about Kyle Goodluck didn’t add up. “You said you’re IRS, but you came armed...and you’ve had combat training,” she added, struggling to focus. She was so scared she couldn’t stop shaking. “I never knew the IRS carried weapons.”

“Field agents are usually armed,” he said. “Didn’t Hank mention I was coming to interview him?”

Seeing her shake her head, he continued. “I was sent to check out some discrepancies in the purchase orders he filed with the Department of Defense.” He pulled out his cover government photo ID, flashed his badge, then quickly placed it all back into his pocket. “If you’re worried, the local police will vouch for me.”

She wanted to trust this man, after all, he’d saved her life, but something was telling her to hold back. “You don’t have to protect me anymore,” she said, noticing how closely he stood. “They’re gone now.”

“For the moment. You’ve seen these people up close and that makes you a threat to them,” he said. “From this point on, expect the unexpected. That’s how you’ll stay alive.”

His bluntness made a chill run up her spine. Agent Goodluck stood straight, shoulders thrown back, a warrior’s stance. The black leather jacket enhanced his powerful build. Everything about him spoke of unwavering self-assurance. She didn’t know much about Kyle Goodluck, but she had a feeling that this was a man who seldom, if ever, second-guessed himself.

“There’s Detective Bowman,” Erin said, seeing a familiar face step out of an unmarked SUV. “I remember him from one of the fund-raisers Hank held for the local police. His brother Daniel’s in the security business, too.”

“I know. They’re my brothers,” Kyle said.

She blinked, surprised by the revelation.

As her gaze shifted to the EMTs still working on Hank, the full impact of what had happened slammed into her again. Men she’d never seen before had tried to kill her and Hank. One of the gunmen had actually died less than ten feet from her. What was worse, she might still be a target.

Tremors ripped through her and she folded her arms around her middle, as if trying to hug herself.

A heartbeat later, Kyle threw his black leather jacket over her shoulders.

“No, I’m okay,” she managed.

“You’re holding it together, but that’s not the same as okay,” he said, his voice gentle.

As Preston came up, he nodded to Erin, then glared at his brother. “Interesting meeting you here so soon after our coffee break. What’s the story?”

“A word?” Kyle said, taking Preston aside, but making sure he kept Erin in view.

* * *

THEY WERE STANDING less than fifteen feet away from her, but Kyle could see Erin’s full attention was on the paramedics getting ready to transport Hank Leland.

“This is part of an NCIS case,” Kyle told Preston in a barely audible voice. “I’m here undercover.”

“Now tell me something I don’t know.”

“Earlier this morning Hank Leland called and asked NCIS for help, claiming he was being blackmailed by terrorists. I’d been sent here to monitor Leland’s activities anyway, so I was told to go check it out and interview him. Everything looked normal up to the time I pulled into the company’s yard, but in a moment, it all went sour,” he said. “That’s all I have right now, but we’re going to need your department’s cooperation during my investigation.”

Preston nodded curtly. “Why did they come after him here?”

“Don’t know. Maybe that was their plan all along. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Leland’s company specializes in building safe rooms but that technology isn’t classified. What’s that got to do with terrorists?”

“Not sure—yet.” Kyle glanced around. “Firearms aren’t hard to get, so let’s begin with explosives and detonators. Does Leland keep any here on site?”

“I’ll find out,” Preston answered.

“One more thing,” Kyle said before he could move off. “I need you to file this as an armed robbery gone bad or something routine like that—not a kidnapping attempt involving probable terrorists. If you need clearance, I can get it for you. I’ll also need to keep Erin Barrett in my custody.”

“Are you taking over this case? If you are, I’ll have to run it through channels.”

“Do whatever you have to, and I’ll stay with Erin.”

As Preston walked off, Kyle saw one of the paramedics block Erin from climbing into the back of the vehicle. “Ma’am, you can’t ride in the ambulance with him. We’ll transport him to Regional Medical’s emergency room and you can meet us there.”

As Kyle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, Erin jumped back and spun around.

“It’s okay, Erin, relax. Let the EMTs do their job. Hank’s in good hands,” he said. “You and I need to talk.”

“Hank Leland hired me and gave me a chance—the only one I ever got—and I’m going to make sure he gets the best of care. I’m going to the hospital right now.”

“Hank’s already getting the care he needs. Your time’s better spent answering our questions so we can catch the people who did this to him, and you.”

“I’ll tell you everything I can—at the hospital,” Erin replied, refusing to give an inch.

Preston came up and gave Kyle a brief nod. “Your request has been approved,” he said. “I’ve sent officers to Leland’s home to secure the place. I’ve also sent a deputy to the company’s current work site to inform and protect the work crew there.” He looked at Erin. “Right now, ma’am, I have to ask you a few questions.”

She ran an exasperated hand through her hair. “Everyone wants to talk to me and I get that, but first, I have to make sure Hank’s okay. I’m going to the hospital. You can both talk to me there.” She looked over at the emergency vehicle heading out the gates. “I have to go.”

“All right. My brother can drive you there,” Preston said, and saw Kyle nod. “But before you go, could this have been a robbery, maybe for your payroll, or cash on hand?”

Erin shook her head. “No way. If you’d seen them, you’d understand. They were cold and calm, like professionals following a plan. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t cash.”

Kyle nodded. He’d seen extremists with the same attitude she’d described. “Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

* * *

KYLE FOLLOWED THE racing emergency vehicle, staying on its tail by taking advantage of the way its flashing lights, horn and siren cleared traffic. At this speed, he couldn’t risk more than a glance in Erin’s direction, but he was aware of her on almost every level.

She had spirit—the kind that refused to cower or run. Unless he missed his guess, and he seldom did, her courage wasn’t the sort that came from training and preparation. It was the deep-seated kind that you were either born with or not.

“So you and Hank are friends?” he asked, running the red light and staying right behind the ambulance, his skill and training in pursuit driving coming in handy now.

“No, not really, but we work together well, and he’s a good boss.” She hung on tightly to the door handle as he turned left. “He hired me though I had no business experience, and right from the start trusted me to handle the work.”

Kyle had no problem believing that. She clearly wasn’t the sort who lost it under pressure.

“Hank’ll make it through this. He’s as tough as they come,” she said.

He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. “So you’re his assistant, right?”

“Officially, I’m the office manager. Sometimes when he’s away fulfilling a contract, I run the day-to-day business. When he’s here, my job is to make sure things run smoothly.”

“Does Leland have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. Hank always treats his employees and clients fairly.”

“You really like him, I gather,” he pressed, making another hard right in order to stay close to the ambulance.

She held her breath until they were moving in a straight line again. “I respect him.”

Kyle kept his eyes on the road. His gut was telling him that there was more to Erin’s story, things she was deliberately keeping back. If she was playing a game, he’d see through it fast enough. He was very good at his job, as he’d proven time and time again.

The fox fetish that hung from a leather cord around his neck pressed against his chest, reminding him to stay alert. Fox, a gift from Hosteen Silver, was his spiritual brother, and, according to Navajo tradition, shared its gifts with him. Observation, one of Fox’s innate abilities, had become second nature to Kyle. Whether that was because of the fetish or not, he couldn’t say, he just knew that it was so.

“Why did your brother suggest I ride with you to the hospital? Was it so you could question me, or is there more to it?”

“You wanted to get there fast, so it made sense for me to give you a lift. Hang on,” he added, hitting the brakes and swerving along with the ambulance ahead of him. Its loud air horn blasted. A startled pedestrian wearing white earbuds looked up suddenly, then jumped back onto the curb.

Unsure of which team she was playing on, he intended to be right there when Hank Leland regained consciousness and saw Erin for the first time since the kidnapping attempt. Hank’s reaction might be enough to tell him what he needed to know.

“You saved my life, Agent Goodluck, but I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

“Not necessary. And it’s Kyle.” He only met those honey-brown eyes for a second, but that’s all it took. Just beyond the sadness and fear mirrored there, he saw a gentle vulnerability.

He was a former marine, long ago labeled as a hard-ass, but that never failed to get to him.

He heard the ambulance’s air horn just ahead, and a heartbeat later a large black pickup flew into view, running the light, oblivious to the inevitable collision.

“Oh, damn.” Kyle hit the brakes and leaned on the horn.

Although he avoided the truck, it was too late for the ambulance. The pickup slammed into its right front end, pushing the emergency vehicle around ninety degrees with a sickening crunch.

Kyle skidded and barely missed clipping the tailgate of the pickup as it fishtailed around in the intersection. Hitting the brakes hard again, he finally managed to stop about fifty feet beyond the crash site. He looked back in the side mirror just as a familiar-looking van drove up and stopped a few feet behind the pickup.

“That idiot just ran the light!” Erin cried out, her voice shaking.

“It wasn’t an accident. Get down on the floorboard now,” he ordered, grabbing his pistol. “Call 911,” he instructed the online computer, not taking his eyes off the van. “Federal officer needs help, GPS location.”

“The van! Those are the same men,” she said, her voice rising. “Give me a way to fight back.”

“Here, defend yourself, but stay down.” Kyle handed her the Glock, then threw open his door, reaching behind the seat for his M4 as he jumped down to the pavement. He’d replaced the magazine with a full load when he put it away, but the thought of a firefight in a city intersection brought him back to his deployments in Afghanistan. Yet here he was in Hartley, New Mexico.

Two men wearing ski masks had already exited the van, both upgunned to assault rifles. They were possibly wearing vests beneath fatigue jackets, too, though he couldn’t tell for sure.

As the gunman from the passenger side approached the disabled EMT vehicle, the driver of the van watched the man’s flank and front, providing cover. To their right, the pickup driver was limping away from his badly disabled vehicle, pistol in hand. Clearly the collision had crippled his effectiveness.

Kyle advanced to his left, intending on approaching from behind. There was no cover here in the street, but he was sure they were out to nab Hank and were confident that surprise and firepower had put them in control.

The gunman came up to the rear door of the emergency vehicle and rapped on it with the butt of his assault rifle. “Open the door!”

The man’s partner, the driver, looked over at Kyle’s SUV. Knowing the fight might shift to Erin’s position, Kyle moved in.

“Put your weapons down!” Kyle yelled, now partially screened by the van.

Both gunmen whirled instantly, spraying bullets in his direction.

Outgunned for the moment, Kyle dropped to the pavement and rolled left as bullets kicked up chunks of asphalt. He returned fire, but he wasn’t alone. As he glanced back, he saw Erin lying flat beside the SUV, firing beneath the engine block at the men’s legs.

Both suspects jumped to the driver’s side of the van, moving out of view.

Not wanting to shoot in that direction and risk hitting the ambulance beyond, Kyle circled to his left.

The pistol-wielding pickup driver snapped off a few rounds, but shots from the SUV forced him to take cover beside the pickup. Erin had Kyle’s back.

Kyle couldn’t see the men any more, but he was advancing, weapon up, when the van roared to life. Tires squealing, the vehicle raced backward straight at him. He fired twice, then jumped to his left as the van brushed by him.

Swinging around, prone, he tried to bring his rifle to bear on the van, which had now done a one-eighty and was racing down the street. A bullet screamed past him from behind. Realizing it had come from the pickup’s driver, Kyle forgot about the van, rolled and squeezed off three rounds at the driver, who was leaning against his ruined pickup, still shooting.

The shooter flinched, grabbed his side, and slid down the side of the pickup to a sitting position.

Kyle jumped up, weapon aimed at the wounded man, and advanced quickly.

“Drop the weapon now!” he yelled. To his left, he could see an EMT sneaking a quick look out the back door of the unit. “Stay inside!” Kyle ordered.

Kyle was within fifteen feet when the badly wounded man looked directly at him, put the barrel under his chin and shot himself.

Chapter Three

Kyle lowered his weapon and looked away, shaking his head in disgust. A life wasted, just like that. Up to now, he’d only seen that kind of hardcore reaction overseas.

He moved toward the ambulance, put his hand on the door handle, then yelled, “Federal officer. Open up!”

The EMT inside did so quickly, throwing his hands up as the door opened. “Officer, we’re not armed, and our patient needs us right now. We’ve got to keep working, okay?”

Kyle nodded and realized, from the monitor’s tone, that Hank had flatlined. As both EMTs worked to revive Leland, one of them talking back and forth with an emergency room doctor through a headset, Erin rushed up. She stood silently beside him, watching.

Minutes passed, the medics working feverishly. After four attempts to restart Leland’s heart with the paddles, the one with the headset reported the results, tapped the other EMT on the shoulder, and shook his head. “Call it.”

The second medic noted the time and pulled a sheet over the patient’s head.

“What are you doing? Don’t give up!” Erin demanded.

“Ma’am, his blood pressure bottomed out even before the accident, probably from trauma-induced internal bleeding. Even if we hadn’t been stopped here on the street, I doubt he would have made it to the hospital.”

She bit down on her lip until it turned white, but when Kyle tried to get closer to comfort her, she stepped away. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was shaking.

“Everyone here, including us, did everything possible to save him,” Kyle said. “Hold to that.” His voice was quiet and calm, a tone he’d learned people responded to, and it broke through to her now.

“We might as well go back to the warehouse. There’s nothing else we can do here now.”

She nodded, and walked back to the SUV with him. Her movements were slow and ponderous as she continued to struggle with what she’d just seen. “I should notify his brother...make funeral arrangements, or at least help with that. I...”

“That’ll wait. Right now you need a little time to process what’s happened and so do I,” he said.

As they climbed into his SUV, he saw her staring ahead, a glassy look in her eyes. Shock. “Seat belt,” he said, and she absently complied.

“What I saw today is going to haunt my nightmares for as long as I live,” she said after a moment.

Her words touched him. He knew all about things one could never unsee, and memories that refused to die.

“You’re right, some things can’t be forgotten,” he said, his voice nothing more than a deep rumble, “but you’ll learn to deal and, in time, the images will come less often.”

Kyle started the engine and called his brother on the phone. After a few minutes he ended the connection and glanced at her. “We’ll head back to Secure Construction. My brother will wait for us there and he’ll want a detailed account of everything that went down.”

Ten minutes later, they parked outside the now closed access gates of Secure Construction’s fenced compound and waited in the SUV. After several moments a uniformed Hartley police officer came to unlock the gate.

“Have you given any more thought to what these men may have wanted, Erin? You already ruled out cash, but do you keep anything that’s dangerous or of high value here, like maybe explosives?”

The person who’d encountered Hank overseas was said to be a bomb maker with ties to extremists. Firearms were easy to get in the U.S., but finding high explosives was a lot more difficult.

“We use explosives to test the construction of newly designed safe rooms, but we hire out those tests and pick up what’s needed en route to the test site. We never really store anything here. There’s no need.”

Kyle drove into the yard, then pulled up by the main office building, stopping in front of the yellow crime-scene tape. “Don’t think—just answer me. What’s here that someone would want to steal?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Nothing that’s worth people’s lives.” She got out of the SUV and strode to where Preston was standing, waiting for them.

Kyle hung back and watched Erin for a moment longer. She was the picture of courage, but little telltale signs, like the stiff way she was walking and the expressionless look in her eyes told him a different story. Overwhelmed on every level, the human body often adapted and became ultracalm—almost numb—in order to survive.

If Erin was truly an innocent caught in circumstances she didn’t understand, she had his sympathy. This was just the beginning.

* * *

ERIN FELT SICK to her stomach. She wanted to curl up into a ball and hide where no one would see her fall apart. Yet the look on Detective Bowman’s face told her she had to hold it together for a little bit longer. “You have questions for me, so why don’t we go into my office and talk there?” she asked.

“My people are still processing the building so we’ll have to talk out here,” he said.

“It’s okay. I have another smaller office in the warehouse,” she said, desperately needing a place to sit down before her knees buckled. “How about we talk in there?”

“Lead the way,” Preston said.

She walked to her second office, a cubbyhole on the lower level of the warehouse, near the entrance doors. Detective Bowman and Kyle Goodluck were half a step behind her.

“Detective, Agent Goodluck, please sit down,” she said, dropping down into her seat unceremoniously. “Ask me whatever you want, and I’ll do my best to answer you, or track down the answers you need.”

“How did this whole thing start? Did the three men just burst into the office?” Preston asked.

“I wasn’t there when they arrived, I was in here checking out our newest model safe room. We display them with simple furnishings, emergency gear, and supplies to show prospective clients,” she said. “After I finished, I went back and saw three men talking to Hank in his office. It all looked like business as usual, so it never occurred to me to ask Joe to stick around a while longer.”

“Joe?” Preston asked. “The same guy at the work site? The one I sent a deputy to cover?”

“Yes, Joe Pacheco is our senior construction foreman. You may know him. He’s a former police officer.”

Preston nodded. “I know Joe. When, exactly, did he and the crew leave?”

“Joe was behind the wheel of one of our big pickups, and pulled out onto the street a few minutes after I sat down at my desk in the main office.”

“Who else was on site here at the time?” Preston asked. “Anyone in the warehouse or working in the yard?”

“No, after Joe and the crew left, it was just Hank and me.”

“When did you first realize there was trouble?” Kyle asked her.

“After a few minutes, I heard Hank yell at one of the men. I’m better with difficult prospective clients, which is what I figured they were, so I went in to see if I could help calm the situation. That’s when I realized all three men were armed.”

She took a breath and tried to hold it together. Both men were watching her, but it was Kyle’s intense, hooded gaze that got to her. There was something hard and dangerous there. Yet he’d saved her life.... Maybe he was only dangerous to the wrong people.

“What were they arguing about?” Kyle asked.

“They claimed that Hank had double-crossed them. Then one of them pointed his gun at Hank and told him to keep his end of the deal or get ready to die.” She shuddered. “I heard that last part just as I walked into the room.”

“Describe the men you saw,” Preston said.

“The tallest one standing next to Hank was tanned and had a beard. I’d say he stood about six foot one, and was rail thin. The other faces were a blur. I was so scared all I could see were their guns.”

“The man who shot himself in the street, was he one of them?” Kyle asked.

“No, I’m pretty sure of that,” she answered. “His face was distinctive, even before the...bullet.”

“Okay, so there are—were at least four of them. Getting back to earlier now. What happened next?” Preston asked.

“They told us to leave our cell phones, and ordered us outside. They held on to us with one hand, their pistols jammed against our backs,” Erin said. “I was sure they intended to kill us, so when I saw you drive into the yard, I elbowed the one behind me in the gut and yelled for help, but he pulled me back again before I could get away. Once we went around the corner of the building, he shoved me out into the open. You know the rest.”

She studied their expressions, trying to read them, but their faces were flat, impenetrable.

Preston glanced out the window. “Let’s go back to the main office. It looks like my team’s finished their preliminary sweep.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. “I’d like you to avoid touching anything, Erin, but wear these in case you forget.”

* * *

AS THEY RETURNED to the main building, Erin could feel her heart hammering. When Preston went to speak to one of the officers standing outside, she focused on Kyle. “This is their case, yet you’re taking an active role in the investigation. Is that because he’s your brother?”

“No, it’s because I’m a federal agent with an interest in what happens here,” he answered.

She stared at the floor for a moment, trying not to fall apart. “Hank had been so tense lately. I should have paid more attention.”

“Had anything unusual happened lately?”

“Hank never confided in me, but I believe something had been bothering him. It started about a week before he left for Spain. He was tense and short-tempered with everyone, but when he came back, that still hadn’t changed.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?”

She nodded. “I tried, but he told me that it was family business. That was his way of telling me it was personal and I needed to back off, so I did.”

“Family? He wasn’t married, right?” Kyle asked.

“I think he meant his brother, Bruce, who works on and off for him.”

“Were they close?”

“No. They had nothing in common and could barely stand being around each other. Hank is all about working hard, but Bruce has never been able to hold on to a job for long.”

Preston joined them and tossed Kyle a pair of latex gloves. “Okay, we’re ready. Let’s go inside the main office. I want you to look around carefully, Erin, and tell me if there’s anything missing,” he said, putting on a set of gloves, too.

“Look for anything that’s new, too,” Kyle added.

“New, how?” she said. “Are you talking about something he brought back from his trip, like souvenirs, or what’s in today’s mail?”

“Both,” they answered in unison.

Hearing another investigator call his name, Preston said something in a low voice to Kyle.

“Go. I’ll handle things here,” Kyle said.

As Erin walked inside with Kyle, the first thing that caught her eye was the small plant that lay on the carpeted floor, soil spilling out of its container.

Temporarily forgetting what they’d told her about not touching anything, she picked it up carefully, and scooped the soil back into the pot with a gloved hand.

A second later, she froze. “Oh—I’m so sorry. I didn’t think....”

“It’s okay. That’s why you’re wearing gloves. We can’t get prints from soil anyway,” Kyle said with a gentle smile.

“When the man pushed me out, I bumped into the corner of my desk and knocked over the plant. Considering everything that’s happened, it’s stupid to worry about this, but if I leave it here, it’ll die...too.”

Erin turned her face away as tears ran down her cheeks. “Now you’re going to think I’m crazy for sure,” she managed in a shaky voice. “I held it together through everything—being kidnapped, forced to shoot at someone just to stay alive and seeing three people die. Then I fall apart over this....” Despite all the care she’d lavished on the small desert rose, the plant was still nothing more than a thorny stem with a couple of leaves.

“It’s okay,” Kyle said, lifting her back to her feet with incredible gentleness. “So how come this little plant means so much to you?” He smiled. “If you don’t mind my saying so, it sure doesn’t look like much.”

She chuckled through her tears. “Hank got it years ago from a client. The original plant had been her great-grandmother’s, and the family had a tradition of giving a cutting to people who performed a special service for them. In this case, the woman’s husband had passed and she was having a hard time financially so Hank charged her half price for the safe room.” She looked at the plant. “There’s a legend attached to the desert rose that says it’ll only bloom for an owner whose heart has learned to sing.”

“And your heart?”

“I guess mine doesn’t sing loud enough.” She gave him a hesitant smile, then placed the plant in the windowsill next to her desk. “Hank almost killed it, but I took it from him before he could toss it in the trash. Since then, I’ve done everything I could to make it grow and bloom, but so far nothing.”

“I’ll speak to my brother, but I’m sure it’ll be okay if you want to take it with you.”

“Thanks,” she said, wiping away her tears with a now muddy, gloved hand. “I can’t seem to stop crying, but I’m okay.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. “You’re a strong woman, Erin, but you reached your limit. It happens.”

“To you?”

“It did—once,” he said.

She tried to force herself to swallow so she could stop crying, but her eyes continued to fill with tears. She didn’t dare blink.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, but she moved back. “Let’s get back to work. Tell me what you need.”

“How about a list of company employees, starting with the ones who live here in town?”

“I can access payroll, but I’d have to use my computer. Is that okay? They never touched it.”

“Keep your gloves on, but go ahead,” he said. As she sat down, he added, “Do you always issue checks to your employees, or do some get paid in cash?”

Her eyes were brimming with tears and it made the numbers on the screen swim but somehow she pulled herself together. “No cash. Most of the money is deposited directly into the employees’ bank accounts, but for a few, we still cut checks. Payday is every two weeks—next Friday is the next one,” she said, pushing the cell phone she’d left on her desk out of her way as she reached for paper. After loading it into the printer, she looked up at him. “Should I put my cell phone back in my purse?”

“No, that has to stay,” he said. “We’re still looking for Hank’s cell phone, too. You sure it was at his house?”

She stared at her desk, lost in thought. “That’s what he told them, but if it’s there, it could be anywhere. Last time he lost it, he ended up finding it in his laundry hamper.” She paused. “But maybe he didn’t go straight home last night after his flight arrived... He has a girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” Kyle asked, just as Preston came in.

“Frieda Martinez. He met her about two weeks before he left for Rota, Spain. She was good for him. Though he’d been irritable at work, his whole attitude would change whenever she called. I think he was falling in love with her, not that he would have ever admitted it.”

She printed out the complete list of company employees, then handed it to Kyle. “Should I look around inside Hank’s office now to see if anything there catches my eye?”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Those are the newest things in here,” she said, pointing. On top of Hank’s desk were two opened cardboard boxes he’d addressed to himself and mailed here from Spain.

As Kyle came up and took a closer look, he recalled following Hank to a municipal post office in Rota. At the time that had struck him as odd because the base had excellent postal facilities. “Do you know what was inside these?”

She shook her head. “They arrived yesterday, but they were addressed to Hank, so I just set them aside. When I came in this morning they were open, but we never had a chance to talk about it.”

Kyle took a pen from his pocket, pulled back the flaps, then stirred up the foam peanuts inside.

She looked over his shoulder. “That’s strange. Those are volt meters, but...”

“Looks like they’ve been gutted, but what did he do with the electronics that were inside them?” Kyle continued to sort through the box. “They’re not here. All I see are the outside shells and a few of the metal screws used to hold them together.”

“I can’t answer that. I don’t know,” she said.

“Did any of the men who came for him show any interest in these boxes?” Kyle asked.

“No. Their attention was on Hank and me.”

In addition to the dismantled volt meters Kyle saw other disassembled plastic and metal electronic devices, including stud finders and other sensors. “Lots of packing material in here just to protect what looks like junk.”

“What about that padded envelope?” Preston said, coming in and pointing to the top of the file cabinet.

“That arrived this morning.” Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Kyle remove a small, familiar-looking cylinder from the shipping box and slip it into his jacket pocket.

Before she could comment, Detective Bowman tore open the envelope and dumped its contents on the desk. Stacks of one hundred dollars bills held together with rubber bands came tumbling out. “Apparently he also mailed this to himself from Spain.”

“I have no idea why he’d be mailing cash back home,” Erin said. “Of course it’s possible he carried the cash over there originally to pay contractors or something... But why mail currency? It would have been easier to just transfer funds from the base to the bank here, or bring it back in his carry-on.”

As Preston’s phone rang, he hurried back outside. Once alone, Kyle’s gaze stayed on her. “If that amount of cash had been withdrawn from his business account, you would have noticed it while balancing the books, correct?”

“That didn’t come from any of the accounts I handled,” she said.

“It looks to me that there was a part of your boss’s business you knew almost nothing about.”

All she could do was shrug. “Had you said that to me a few hours ago, I would have told you that you were crazy. Now, I’m just not sure.” As another thought suddenly occurred to her, her eyes widened. “The men didn’t get whatever it was they were after, and now Hank’s dead. What’s to stop them from coming back and trying to get answers from me next?”

“Me.”

He’d said it without any particular inflection, and that’s what made it so scary. That edge of danger, that toughness nothing seemed to pierce, was as much a part of him as the gun he carried on his belt. Yet she’d seen another side of him when he’d realized she was crying. He’d been gentle and kind then, the opposite of the deadly warrior who’d initially come to her aid.

Preston poked his head back into the room. “We’ve found Leland’s cell phone through its GPS chip. Let’s move.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” she asked Kyle as he was striding to the door.

“No. Stick with us, you’ll be safer. We’d also like your help looking through Leland’s home.”

“But I’ve only been there a few times. I’m not really familiar with it.”

“You still have the advantage over us,” Kyle said. “We’ve never been there. Let’s go.”

Chapter Four

“A word?”

Kyle recognized Preston’s icy tone and knew what was bothering him. Preston seldom missed much. Despite that, he decided to play it out. “What’s up?” he asked, stepping away from the SUV.

“Don’t give me that bull,” Preston growled. “What did you find in the box, and why the hell didn’t you turn it over? NCIS has given us the job of processing evidence, and it’s not up to you to pick and choose. Are we working together or not?”

“Your department’s cooperation is crucial, but I have to treat what I found as classified for reasons of national security. You in?”

Preston nodded.

Putting his latex gloves back on, Kyle pulled the small device he’d found inside the box out of his pocket. “I really doubt there’ll be any usable prints on this, except maybe Leland’s partial, but based on the markings this is an electrical detonator manufactured in Spain. You can’t get hold of something this sensitive in the U.S. without shoveling through a truckload of grief, and maybe not even then.”

“So that’s why you want to search Leland’s place ASAP. You think he shipped detonators hidden in those dismantled electronics and overlooked this one.”

“So now we need to find the rest of them,” Kyle said.

“How long have you had Hank Leland under surveillance?”

“Since he was spotted in Rota, Spain, meeting with a man on the watch list, a freelance bomb maker with ties to Spanish ecoterrorist groups. That was two weeks ago. I watched him land at the airport last night, get his luggage and pick up his Silverado. After that I followed him to his office. He stayed here for a while, which I suppose is when he unpacked the box, took the tools apart, and found the detonators.”

“Where’d he go next?”

“He got into his pickup and headed home, which is ten miles south, off highway 281. He took the old road so I had to give him plenty of room. It was pretty much deserted that time of night, and his house is all by itself out there.”

Preston nodded. “I know. I checked. You can spot vehicles for miles.”

“Once he got home, he pulled into the garage and never left again. No other vehicles drove up, either. I maintained surveillance until 3:30 a.m., then drove back into town and checked into the Chamisa Lodge. After catching a few hours’ sleep, I returned to his place at 6:00 a.m. There were lights on inside—still no other vehicles—and there was only one set of tracks leading into the property. Leland left for work at seven, and was still there when I went to meet you for breakfast.”

“So, let’s assume these terrorists are looking for their detonators. What’s their target?”

“I don’t know and that’s a problem,” Kyle said.

“Let’s go to Leland’s house and look around for his cell. We need to find out who he called after his return,” Preston said. “I’ll also get hold of Joe Pacheco. He’s a former police detective, and keeping his eyes and ears open is second nature to him.”

“Don’t ask him about the detonators directly,” Kyle warned.

Preston got the number from Erin and dialed as Kyle walked over to where she was waiting.

“We’re still working out a few details,” Kyle told her. “We’ll leave in a minute.”

After his call, Preston motioned Kyle over. “I asked Joe about the type of explosives used by Secure Construction. He said they use a proprietary mix of ammonium nitrate, but they pick it up from Zia Limited as needed. He also said that they use fuses and blasting caps instead of electrical detonators.”

“All right, let’s get rolling,” Kyle said, started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “Anything on either of the dead kidnappers?”

“Nothing yet. The Office of the Medical Investigator processed their fingerprints, but there’s nothing on record—they’re ghosts. We’re using facial recognition software and running that through the database, and checking with Interpol, but it’ll take time. I have a feeling they’re foreign nationals—Spanish, most likely, for obvious reasons. The truck they used for the hit on the ambulance was stolen and they avoided cameras at that intersection. One more thing. The one who shot himself...those bruises on his face predated his death by at least a week. That’s based on the medical investigator’s preliminary report.”

“Get Daniel up to speed on this. He’s got clearance,” Kyle said.

Daniel Hawk, their foster brother, owned the largest security firm in the Four Corners. Level One Security protected more than half the high profile businesses and state government installations in Northern New Mexico.

“Once we identify the terrorist group we’re dealing with, Daniel may be able to suggest possible targets in this area—facilities or personnel,” Kyle said.

“Good plan.”

“I’ll take Erin over to Leland’s house. Let’s see if on the way there, I can get her to tell me something we don’t already know.”

* * *

THOUGH KYLE’S GAZE was on the road ahead, he was aware of everything about the woman beside him. Erin intrigued him. She accepted her own vulnerabilities instead of trying to conceal her fears, and held it together when it mattered.

Hearing the incoming-call tone, Kyle glanced at the phone display and saw Preston’s name. He connected the call and said, “I’m here.”

“I just got a report from the officer watching Leland’s residence. Someone drove up and slipped inside through the back. I told the officer to wait for backup unless the suspect gets back into his vehicle and tries to leave.”

Kyle pressed down on the accelerator. “Back up your officer and cover the rear. I’ll take the front and block the driveway.”

After he ended the call, he glanced over at her. “When we get there, stay inside the SUV and duck down. This thing is built like one of your safe rooms, and no one can get in once it’s locked.”

“IRS, huh? I don’t think so,” she muttered. “Who are you, really?”

“Your best friend while this investigation is ongoing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You saw my badge and you know the Hartley P.D. trusts me. That’s all you need.” He made a hard left that had her groping for the armrest.

“How long have you lived in this area?” he asked Erin as they were forced to slow down almost to a crawl. Up ahead, several steers had wandered up to the shoulder and were eating tall grass fed by runoff. Two ranchers were busy trying to get the animals back through an open gate into a pasture.

“Practically all my life,” Erin answered. “There’s plenty of work, with all the oil and gas companies. I earn a decent salary, so with luck, in a few years I’ll have the stake I need.”

“To do what?” He moved to the right shoulder, eased past the men and the cattle, then was able to pick up speed again.

She sat back in her seat, adjusting to the sudden acceleration.

“I’m going to buy some decent farmland and grow chiles,” she said. “I’ve got a green thumb, and love getting my hands dirty and working with the soil. Farming...that’s my dream. One day it’ll be more than that—it’ll be a fact.”

There’d been no wavering and, for a moment or two, she’d reminded him of himself. He’d worked hard to get to where he was. Nothing had ever come easy, but he’d stuck to his dream and achieved what he’d set out to do. He had a feeling she would, too.

“Hang on!” Kyle made a sharp turn to the right off the highway, through an open gate and down a gravel lane.

Her eyes widened. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Relax, I’ve got this.”

“And you expect me to believe you’re an accountant? Sure, and there’s a glacier in that arroyo over there,” she grumbled.

He didn’t answer, but slowed even further as the road narrowed into a pothole-ridden pathway. Ahead, he could see the fading rooster tail of dust trailing behind Preston’s vehicle.

Kyle slid to a stop behind the Ford pickup, which had been backed up and parked in front of the garage, its tailgate next to the overhead door.

“He’s blocked off now. Grab my keys out of the ignition, and lock up,” Kyle said, jumping out.

She reached for the keys just as he shut the door.

Hand on the butt of his holstered weapon, Kyle raced toward the front porch in a crouch, looking through the windows of the single-story ranch-style home. If anyone opened the garage door, he’d hear it and turn back.

Stepping silently onto the porch, he opened the screen door, then reached for his lock pick.

Just then he heard a click and the door swung open. Kyle found himself face-to-face with a big man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

Kyle slipped halfway inside before the intruder could shut the door. Pinned for a second, Kyle gave it all he had and shoved. As the heavy door flew open, the man stumbled backward across the foyer. He bounced off a small deacon’s bench and fell to the floor, losing his sunglasses.

The intruder recovered quickly, scrambling to his feet and racing toward a door just beyond the kitchen area.

That door suddenly opened and Preston moved in, another officer right behind him.

“Damn.” The man ducked left toward a long hall.

Kyle dove across an easy chair and tackled the big guy waist-high. They both fell to the floor of the hall, Kyle on top.

“Police!” Preston yelled, running over. “Give it up!”

Kyle pinned the guy’s arms and placed his forearm at the man’s throat. Up close now, with no sunglasses and the intruder’s cap lost in the struggle, the face looked eerily familiar.

As the uniformed officer moved in and placed the man in handcuffs, Preston read him his rights. He then checked the man’s wallet for an ID. “You’re Bruce Leland, Hank’s brother?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a right to be here. Call Hank, he’ll tell you. Get these cuffs off me before I press charges.”

Preston nodded to the officer, and as Bruce was uncuffed, Kyle focused on the man’s face. The photo on file looked much younger, but it was the same man.

“Bruce!” Kyle heard Erin’s voice behind him.

Kyle glanced at her. “I told you to stay in the SUV.”

“Once I saw the window sticker for casino parking, I realized who you were chasing.” She glared at Bruce. “What do you think you’re doing, breaking into your brother’s house?”

“I just came to return that power drill,” he said, gesturing to the one next to a bookcase under construction. “I didn’t have my keys, but I remembered Hank told me that all the back door needed was a credit card in the lock and a good shove.”

Kyle glanced at the drill, noting the handle was dusty. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been touched in weeks.

Bruce gave Erin a quizzical look. “What are you doing here, Erin? Don’t tell me you saw my pickup and called the cops?”

“No,” Erin said, but before she could say more, Kyle interrupted.

“We need to speak to you, Mr. Leland.”

“Who’s we?” he asked, fear making his voice rise.

Preston flashed his badge, and Kyle did the same.

“You’ve got a gold badge,” he said, looking at Kyle. “What are you, FBI?”

Kyle didn’t answer. “We need to search your truck. You can give us permission or we can get a warrant while you remain in custody. Your choice.”

“Go ahead, search all you want.” He looked back at Erin. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Leland, we have some bad news for you about your brother,” Preston said.

Kyle saw the fleeting, panicked look Bruce gave Erin. Maybe they were both involved in what was happening. Hadn’t she mentioned needing money for her future?

Too many questions, not enough answers. He intended to fix that—and soon.

Chapter Five

As Preston gave him the news, Bruce, now standing, swayed slightly then caught himself. “Murdered? That can’t be...” he said, shaking his head.

Preston gave him the details.

Bruce clamped his mouth shut so tightly, his lips turned pale. “This has something to do with you, doesn’t it,” he said, glaring at Erin. “My brother trusted you, but you’re still alive and he’s dead?” He stared at her, as if trying to process the unthinkable. “What kind of trouble did you get him into?”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to your brother,” she snapped.

He gave her a disgusted look, then glanced at Preston and Kyle. “Look at her, she’s beautiful. Erin had my brother under her thumb. Hank was a good man. Nobody would want to hurt him,” he argued. “Not so much with Erin. She’s the one who decides who gets a raise and who doesn’t, she hires and fires. If anyone has enemies, it’s her.”

Kyle watched them with interest. As the two of them finally lapsed into an uneasy silence, he spoke. “You had that much influence at the company, Erin?”

“There’s no way my job had anything to do with what happened!” she said, glaring at Bruce. “This was never about me,” she added, appealing to Kyle, then Preston. “I told you, their attention was on Hank this morning. I just...got in the way.”

“And made things worse, no doubt,” Bruce said. “What’d you do, piss them off even more?”

“You think Ms. Barrett was involved?” Preston asked. “If so, what’s your explanation for the second kidnapping attempt, the one where your brother’s ambulance was ambushed on the way to the hospital?”

Bruce tried to sit, but his legs suddenly buckled and he fell down onto the sofa cushions with a dull whomp. “I don’t know. Finish the job they started?

“You’re a federal cop,” Bruce continued after a beat, looking at Kyle. “My brother just came home after spending two months in Spain. What are you really, CIA?”

“No, I’m not CIA,” Kyle answered. “That agency has no directive to work within the U.S.”

“So then you’re FBI or Homeland Security.”

“I’m a federal agent investigating some business irregularities that track back to your brother, among other things,” Kyle said. Bruce seemed to accept his answer, but as he glanced at Erin, he could see the open skepticism on her face.

“Agent Goodluck is currently coordinating his investigation with the Hartley Police Department,” Preston added.

“So now what?” Bruce said. “Am I under arrest?”

“You’re free to leave—after you give your statement,” Kyle said. “In addition to explaining what you were doing here, we’ll need you to account for your whereabouts during the past twenty-four hours.”

“What about me?” Erin said. “Am I free to go?”

“No, sorry. I’ll need you to stick with me a while longer,” Kyle said.

As Bruce left the room with the uniformed officer, Erin shook her head. “Hank was nothing like his brother,” she said, “but in all fairness, I seem to bring out the worst in Bruce.”

“Why’s that?” Kyle asked.

“Hank set it up so Bruce had to go through me to get to him. Bruce couldn’t con me, so my job was to screen his visits and keep him at bay unless it was absolutely necessary that Hank speak to him.”

“Okay, have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Kyle went to the back room where Preston was looking around. Standing in the hall so he could keep his eye on Erin, he spoke softly. “NCIS obtained a warrant and placed some listening devices in this house. A team took care of that a few days before I arrived in town.”

“Have you listened to the audio?”

“No, not yet, but others in the agency have,” he said, “I’m going to check with my bosses right now, so I’d like you to keep an eye on Erin for me.”

Kyle went outside and pulled out his satellite phone from his jacket pocket. A few moments later, he got the answer he expected, but before he could end the call, his supervisor, Martin Hamilton, got on. He wasn’t happy.

“All I’ve heard is bad news. What have you got so far, Agent Goodluck?”

He gave his boss the short version. “I’m on the trail, sir, but I’ve been back less than twenty-four hours.”

“Yet you’ve already got three bodies stacked up, including a naval reserve officer who was clearly in trouble up to his ass,” he said. “We need answers.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be in touch.” Kyle muttered a curse as he went back into the house.

As he entered, Preston was shaking his head. “There’s nothing of interest here, except an expensive strand of pearls, a present meant for Frieda Martinez, based on the attached card.”

“Frieda mentioned wanting a strand and he decided to buy it for her, though personally I thought it was much too soon for that kind of gift,” Erin said, coming over.

“I’m getting the idea you didn’t like Frieda,” Kyle observed.

“No, it’s not that. Like Hank, I barely knew her.” She paused, then continued. “There’s something you should know about Hank. Business was good, and for the first time in years, Hank was bored and restless. Then he met Frieda and his whole attitude changed. He was crazy about her, but as I said, they’d only known each other for a few weeks.”

Kyle listened carefully. To him, Hank was beginning to sound like a man going through a midlife crisis and looking for excitement. Maybe that’s how he’d been recruited. Money wasn’t always the motivator.

“Did you ever meet Frieda face-to-face?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, a few times when she came to the office to meet Hank for lunch,” Erin answered.

“And?” Kyle pressed.

“She was polite to me, but not friendly.”

“Any chance she’s from Spain?”

“I don’t know. She has a faint accent, something I associate with English as a second language, but that’s all I can say for sure.”

“Preston, get an address on her, then let’s go talk to her,” Kyle said and saw his brother nod. “Erin, I’d like you to come in with us, too. Seeing a familiar face, one Hank trusted, might help.”

“Okay.”

Kyle led her toward the door, sticking close to her side. Until he knew for sure whether Erin was his best asset, or an enemy, he should keep her under guard; he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

* * *

THEY WERE ON their way moments later. “Nice, safe speed,” she said. “I was beginning to think that driving under eighty miles per hour wasn’t part of your M.O.”

“Cop speak?” he asked, grinning.

“Hey, I watch TV,” she said. She was silent for several long moments, then finally spoke again in a heavy voice. “There’s something I still don’t get. You pulled into Secure Construction just as those men were attempting to kidnap us. That wasn’t a coincidence. I think you were expecting trouble, but if that’s true, why didn’t you come sooner, before it could go that far?”

“I went over as soon as I got the call to interview Hank. I had no way of knowing what was going to happen. I think the only person that wasn’t taken by surprise was Hank.”

“Maybe so,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I thought I knew Hank, but this.... Maybe nobody ever knows anyone,” she added, looking directly at him. Despite the steadiness of his gaze, there was a barrier there, a point where the proverbial shutters came down and she wasn’t allowed to see past. He was ostensibly one of the good guys, but it was hard to trust someone who clearly didn’t trust her.

“Do we have a problem?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind.

“Maybe. I want to trust you, Kyle, but you’re not who you say you are, and you’re keeping things from me. When someone else decides what I should and shouldn’t know, that makes me nervous.”

“It shouldn’t. I’m on your side. You’ve seen that already.”

“You say you’re keeping me with you so you can protect me, but if I’m in danger, why aren’t we holed up in some safe place?”

“Your best bet is to stay on the move with me. I’m not in a position to trust anyone else with your safety, except my brothers, and they have their own work to do right now. If you’re with me, you might also see something that jogs your memory, a detail that could be important. You’ve been working with Hank for quite a while.”

“I’m not connected to whatever mess Hank was in. I work hard, and my long-term goals have nothing to do with violence, control, or whatever these killers are after. I want to make a living farming the land. Check my background, and you’ll see I’m exactly who I say I am.”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re involved, and you can’t reason with these people, or fight them alone. You need me. I’m good at what I do, and I’ll keep you safe.”

“What happens tonight? Once you drop me off at home, I’ll be on my own anyway.”

“You can’t go home. Not yet. I can’t just put an officer near your door and hope for the best.”

“You think that the men who killed Hank have someone inside the police department?” she asked, reading between the lines.

“I don’t know, so I’d be gambling with your life. As far as my not being completely open with you,” he added, “in my job, everything is on a need-to-know basis.”

“I suppose that explains why you took something from the box on Hank’s desk and put it in your pocket without telling anyone, including the police.” Although she knew what it was, for now, she’d say nothing.

“I gave it to Preston when he and I were alone. He’ll sign it over to my brother Daniel who has the security clearance needed to find out what we need to know. I also sent a photo of it to my boss.”

“There’s a whole lot more to that story, but okay—for now.”

“Take me at face value.” Kyle gave her a disarming smile. “I’m your bodyguard.”

Her skin prickled with awareness. Kyle was high voltage excitement, a force of nature, adventure waiting to happen. Danger clung to him like an unholy aura. Considering that she was in a life-or-death fight, staying with Kyle was her best option.

“I’m really not bad company,” he said, his eyes dancing.

Her heart began beating overtime. “I’m sure you’ve got a long list of women who love spending time with you. Things are always happening when you’re near. It’s like a wild roller coaster ride, periods of calm are just the prelude to the next spiraling downturn.”

“That’s quite a compliment.”

“I don’t like roller coasters, I like paddle boats.”

“Up to now,” he said with a playful grin, then pulled to the side of the road and parked just to the right of a small cottage. “Okay, this is it. We’re here.”

“What a beautiful little casita. Frieda’s got good taste,” she said.

Freshly watered red and yellow miniature roses, covered in their last big blooms of the season, bordered the path to the door and glistened in the late afternoon light. As she walked up the narrow sidewalk, Erin relaxed, more concerned now about keeping her shoes dry and avoiding the small puddles on the concrete.

As she glanced at Kyle, she could see the tension in his body. He kept looking from window to window, his hand on the butt of his pistol. His reaction seemed out of place. “Frieda’s already met me, so why don’t you let me introduce you?”

“Fine,” he said, in a clipped tone.

“Frieda, it’s me, Erin,” she called out as they reached the front porch. Erin knocked on the front door, and as she did, it creaked open about an inch.

Kyle suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away. “Stay back. Don’t touch anything!”

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