KILLER STORY

When army journalist Casey Jordan’s attacked, she’s convinced it’s a random mugging—until a killer comes after the military team she’s interviewing. But who’s the real target: Casey or her ex—staff sergeant Travis Heath? Despite an attraction that still lingers, Travis pushed Casey away months ago, convinced military life leaves no room for attachments. But when the attacks grow increasingly personal, Travis begins to question his chosen path. As the targets of a killer’s vendetta, though, it could be too late to make up for lost time...because he and Casey may not have a future to share.

Travis couldn’t shake the prickly feeling of being watched.

If he and Casey were still together, he’d have suggested a quick run to the coast, a dinner of sandwiches and soda while they dug their toes in the sand. It was half on his tongue to ask, but probably wasn’t a smart idea.

“You look like you’re plotting something.” Casey had stopped at the edge of the brick sidewalk and was eyeballing him like she really could read his thoughts.

That would be scary.

He looked both ways, waiting for a break in traffic. “Me? Plotting? Not at all.”

An older Nissan 280ZX stopped half a block away and flashed its lights.

Travis and Casey both threw a wave of thanks and stepped into the street, aiming for Travis’s truck on the other side.

A sudden squeal tore the air.

Adrenaline crashed through him in a lightning jolt of pain as the Nissan roared straight for them.

Dear Reader,

When I was little, we were vacationing at the beach. My mom found a piece of sea glass. Sand and surf had smoothed the bumps and edges of a broken Coke bottle.

She handed it to me and said, “We’re like this glass. We start out broken from sin. Jesus is like the waves and the sand, making us shiny and beautiful.”

It was a lesson I’ve always remembered. The greatest thing Mom taught me was God is in everything, and He is everywhere. If we wait for Him, He will reveal Himself.

I like to think she learned that from my grandmother, who once called and said, “I was making the bed, and the way the light came through the window and hit the bedspread... I sat down and cried, because I felt how much God loves me.”

Funny thing is, I’ve stood in our kitchen—which used to be hers—as the light fell over the butcher-block island and felt that same thing.

God loves you right where you are. He is a Zephaniah 3:17 God: “The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

I hope you will take a few minutes alone with Him and let Him tell you how much He loves you!

I also hope you will drop by and say hello over at www.jodiebailey.com or at jodie@jodiebailey.com. I’d love to hear how you’ve seen God in the small things, too!

Jodie

JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.

Calculated Vendetta

Jodie Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.

He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

—1 John 4:18

To Mom, who taught me to see God in all things, big and small. Because of you, I see Him everywhere I go.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The conversations of the late dinner crowd in the Mexican restaurant hummed around Staff Sergeant Casey Jordan as she loaded one more chip with salsa and promised herself this one—like the eight before it—would be the real “last one.” Probably not, but still... Didn’t she deserve to indulge a little after her dinner companion had excused himself to take his fourth phone call in twenty minutes? Finally, she’d given up and told John Winslow they could reschedule, and he’d taken off for the door after a quick thanks and a wave.

Sure, it wasn’t technically a date, rather an interview for the story she was working on for the Fort Bragg Public Affairs Office, but the diners around them had no idea of that. To them, she’d been royally disrespected.

Reaching for the chip basket, Casey chose a perfect triangle. One more, then she’d throw in the napkin and go home to the cliché of pajamas, ice cream and the hardest sudoku puzzle she could lay her hands on. After her last relationship had spectacularly flamed out, she deserved all the comfort food she could get.

“Casey?” The sound of her name rose above the other noises in the small restaurant. For a second, her hopes rose, but they crashed to the floor just as quickly. The voice was definitely not John’s.

It was her own thoughts come to life in flesh and blood.

She did her best to ignore the call as her stomach tightened around the chips she’d downed. Not now. This was the last thing she needed on a night when it looked as though a date had abandoned her. Way to drive the knife in, making him appear.

Grabbing the backpack that held her laptop, Casey slung it over her shoulder, pretending she hadn’t heard Travis Heath hailing her. It had been three months, and he hadn’t called her once. Let him enjoy the burn of being ignored. She’d rather go home and dig into a pint of Mackinac Island Fudge than make small talk with the guy who’d gotten her hopes up before he ground them into mush under the heel of his combat boot.

Then again, knowing Travis, ignoring him would only make him more persistent. Better to face the past than have it chase her out of the restaurant and become the dinner show for an audience chowing on tacos and chips.

When she stopped near the counter and turned, Travis ran right into her. He grabbed her upper arms to steady both of them, forcing Casey to look at him fully for the first time.

Yep. He was everything she remembered. Tall. Lean but muscular. Blue-eyed under slightly longer-than-regulation dark blond hair. If she glanced around the restaurant now, half the women there would be staring at him. Casey inhaled and tried not to notice he still smelled like outdoors and ocean, even though the coast was nearly two hours away.

Scent recall was definitely a thing, because the slightest whiff of him brought an assault of memories that threatened to drag her right back to him. For a second, she’d glimpsed the old him, the him she’d loved.

But he’d hurt her, and being nice to him wasn’t on the agenda.

She didn’t even bother to fake a civil smile. “Travis.”

“Casey.” He scanned her face slowly, like he was soaking her in, but then he blinked and glanced over her shoulder at the door. “The guy you were having dinner with. Was he John Winslow?”

She edged closer to the counter to pay. Hopefully her cheeks hadn’t turned as red as they felt. Casey focused on his question, trying to ignore the way he folded the past into the present. What did it matter to him whom she had dinner with? He didn’t have the right to ask.

“It was.” She made a show of glancing at her watch and then over her shoulder at the door, as though she had somewhere so much better to be. “And I have to go.” Sidestepping him, she pulled her arms from his warm grasp, trying not to make the action as slow and reluctant as she felt. The tiny little traitor inside her wanted to stay right where she was. Good thing her intellect was stronger than her heart. “See you around.”

Travis opened his mouth and closed it again, watching her like he couldn’t quite figure out if she was serious about walking away. “How did you meet John?”

He couldn’t really believe he had the right to ask such a question. “Really not any of your business, is it?” Casey turned away and forced a smile at the cashier. There was nothing to talk about, especially if it was the way he’d spotted her across the room and suddenly remembered she existed. Or he’d decided to be jealous because somebody else wanted to be with her.

Except John didn’t have any more interest in hanging around than Travis had. She huffed out her frustration and headed for the exit without looking back.

Travis didn’t follow, but she knew he watched her as she pushed through the front door. Pent-up anger roiled inside her. If he was the kind of man who could be trusted, he wouldn’t have taken off on her with some lame excuse about the army not being conducive to a family. She was as much of a soldier as he was, and that was the flimsiest reason in the world for a breakup.

Outside, she inhaled deeply and immediately wished she hadn’t. The humidity of the early September evening made taking a breath feel more like drowning. It was after eight o’clock, but the heat of the day held on even in the twilight. It didn’t matter she’d been raised here, nobody ever really got used to the way summer dragged into autumn. The North Carolina Sandhills brought with them a special kind of humidity-fueled torture.

Grabbing her phone, she started to fire off a text to John to cancel their interview for the next day, but she paused. He’d been a great source on her last article, and his input would be valuable for her research on the Joint Task Force mission he’d been a part of five years ago. Casey tapped her thumb against her phone. This was why business and personal didn’t mix.

Maybe she should let it go. This was one working dinner with a man she hardly knew. Nothing serious. Casey glanced over her shoulder. Nothing like the place she’d been with Travis when he walked out her door for the last time.

Forget him. Forget this day. She was done. Casey shoved her phone into her hip pocket and pulled her keys from her purse. Time to go home to air-conditioning and ice cream.

“Casey, wait.”

Against her will, her feet dragged to a stop on the sidewalk. Yep. Travis was still tenacious.

And she still couldn’t resist him.

Travis stopped beside her and glanced around the parking lot. “At least let me walk you to your car. If John can’t be gentleman enough to—”

“Are you for real?” Casey whipped around and turned the full force of her pent-up fury on him. “Were you watching the whole time? You think you get to spy on me because...because why, exactly? Walk away, Travis. Seems like that’s the one thing you’re really good at.”

He didn’t back off like she’d expected but held his ground, his expression neutral. “Just walking you to your car, Case. Let a guy be nice, okay?”

Travis was a lot of things, including a big kid in a man’s body, but one thing was certain—his mama had taught him how to be a gentleman. He’d walk any lone female to her car. It had nothing to do with her. She could stand on the sidewalk and fight him, or she could let him take the walk to the end of the row with her, thank him, then go on her not-so-merry way.

It was easier to give in. Without another word, she turned on her heel, made sure no cars were coming, then stepped off the sidewalk.

Travis kept pace beside her, not saying a word.

As much as she didn’t want to talk to him, Casey couldn’t hack the silence. Between the two of them, it was unnatural. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, running her thumb along the stitching. “Did you ever get any word on orders?” He should have moved on from Bragg months ago, but an investigation at his unit had held all his soldiers in place. Word around post was the fence was down now that the investigation was closed, and guys were being shuffled to other assignments.

He lagged behind then caught up, as though the question had slowed his pace. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to selection for a Special Missions Unit in a little over a week.”

“I never knew you wanted to go that route.” There were a lot of things he’d kept from her, including his apparent fear of commitment.

“You still with the Public Affairs Office?” He didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t push it.

“I am.” They’d reached her Jeep and Casey stopped, staring at the door handle as she slipped the backpack from her shoulders. Turning to look at him would be dangerous. Her pride was already bruised by John. She didn’t need the reminder of what could have been if she let herself look at Travis Heath long enough to remember he wasn’t the root of all evil. “I’ll probably be there until—”

There was movement at the front of her Jeep, and someone melted out of the shadows. Surely John wasn’t waiting, thinking he could shoehorn his way into her evening once again.

She turned her back fully to Travis, facing the newcomer.

It wasn’t John. A man appeared at the front of her SUV, a hood over his head casting his face into shadow, and a pistol pointed straight at her chest.

* * *

Travis’s muscles tightened, the heat of confrontation rushing through him. It took all he had not to shove Casey to safety and rush the guy. Instead, he edged between her and the gunman and balled his fists, forcing his attention from the pistol to the man, trying to size his advantage and figure out the best way to get Casey safely out of this.

In spite of the heat, their attacker wore a dark hoodie pulled forward to distort his features in shadow. Still, something about him was vaguely familiar, a flicker of memory Travis couldn’t grasp.

Now wasn’t the time to try.

The gun wavered from Travis to Casey, almost as though the man holding it wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Travis eased one foot forward, getting himself in position to take out the foe, but the pistol stabilized, aimed squarely at him.

Whoa. Travis froze, reading confusion in the gunman’s expression. This guy was no pro, but he wasn’t a novice either. Rather than aiming at the head, he had the pistol pointed squarely at center mass, the mark of someone who had at least a little training. Something told Travis the guy could probably get off a fairly accurate shot, but that wasn’t a theory he wanted to test.

He’d trained for moments like this, but having Casey thrown into the mix complicated everything. Right now, Travis was physically trapped with the Jeep on one side and a car on the other, but he’d always been better with his words anyway. “Dude, you don’t have to do anything crazy.”

The statement hardened the man’s resolve, and his stance stiffened. “I want her backpack...and your wallet.”

“Take it easy.” He’d hand over everything in his possession as long as the guy didn’t pull the trigger on Casey. The barrel of a weapon aimed straight at them made Travis willing to do whatever it took to protect her.

But he had an idea. “Casey, hand me your backpack.” He lowered his right arm slowly, like he was reaching behind him for the bag.

The gunman steadied his aim.

Behind Travis, Casey hesitated, giving him a second to pray she wouldn’t choose this moment to argue, then she slipped the strap into his hand.

Perfect.

Travis wrapped his fingers around the canvas strap and eased forward, bracing himself for whatever came next. If this was the last breath he took, at least he could say he’d given it all he had. He threw his arm out, the backpack catching their assailant in the arm.

The gun clattered off the trunk of the car beside them and Travis rushed forward, but the narrow space between the Jeep and the car slowed his momentum.

The other man snatched Casey’s backpack, skirted the front of the Jeep and ran for a dark sedan idling two spaces away, leaving tire rubber in the parking lot as Travis skidded to a halt, trying in vain to read the license plate before distance made it impossible.

No good. The car was moving too fast and the lights weren’t bright enough.

Travis slammed a fist into the side of his leg, then turned and ran to Casey, his heart racing from adrenaline and exertion. If anything had happened to her...

She sat on the running board of her Jeep, face buried in her hands.

Travis knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. Even though the weapon hadn’t been fired, relief still washed over him at the sight of her. “You okay?”

Her whole body moved with the effort of breathing. “Give me a minute.”

Easing away, Travis stood and pulled his phone from his pocket to call the police. He let his free hand rest on the back of Casey’s head, running his fingers through the loose blond strands that fell forward to cover her cheeks, the softness cascading across hands that shook from the adrenaline of the chase. How to handle this? He couldn’t put an arm around her to hug her. She’d probably deck him. But he also couldn’t let her suffer alone.

When he ended the call, Casey slipped her hair from his fingers and looked at him, her gray eyes cloaked in an emotion he couldn’t read. “I’m not your dog. You can stop petting me.”

In spite of the situation, Travis bit down on a grin. That was exactly what he’d been doing. Hey, it had worked for Harley the shelter mutt back in the day, when his family had ridden out hurricanes on the Florida Panhandle. And it had worked for Gus, the dog he’d had to give up when he deployed the last time. He ignored the ache the Australian shepherd’s memory brought. He always lost the things he loved. Life somehow seemed to work that way. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? What was in your backpack?”

“My laptop.” She gave him a weak smile. “He’s in for a surprise. The battery’s dead and the charger’s at my apartment.”

Casey was as sarcastic as she’d ever been, a quality she tended to amp to a thousand under stress. He’d encountered the trait more than once when her best friend was under the gun in February. “Bad day for him, huh?”

“For sure.” She dipped her chin and stared at the pavement between her feet, growing serious. “You know, if you hadn’t walked me out...”

Travis glanced toward the sky, grateful for the nudge that had sent him after her. If something had happened to her while he licked his wounds inside, he’d never have been able to forgive himself. He eased to the running board beside her, wary of touching her after her reaction. Running a hand down his face, he winced at the realization of what she’d lost. She kept her life on her phone and her laptop. Losing the machine would be a blow. “Were you working on anything?”

“An article on...” She froze, then waved her hand as though the question were a buzzing mosquito. “No big deal. Everything’s saved in the cloud, so it’s all retrievable. The machine’s password protected, so I doubt he can do much with it anyway.” Her hand fluttered up and fell. “It’s the hassle of having to deal with insurance and then finding the time to buy a new one. And knowing somebody held a gun on us and now has my whole digital life in their hands...” A shudder shook her, the biggest since she’d bucked up and tried to act like this whole incident was no big deal.

Travis slipped an arm around her as two police cars roared into the parking lot, sirens blaring. He couldn’t let her sit here and fight this internal battle by herself. And when she leaned into him he knew...

He was in this for as long as she needed him.

TWO

“You didn’t need to come over. Really.” Casey tried to block the doorway to keep her best friend from entering the apartment. There was a reason she hadn’t called Kristin James and told her what had happened at the restaurant. Casey had known it would go down exactly like this, with her stubborn friend practically bursting through the door.

Casey didn’t want a babysitter. She wanted a quiet place to curl into a ball and fall apart in peace. The shudders that had fluttered through her like wild birds for the past couple of hours were trying their best to work their way out to every limb. When she let go, the force would likely be epic, and the last thing an explosion of such a magnitude needed was a witness.

Of course, Kristin was having none of that. She slipped past Casey into the small hardwood entryway, dropping her backpack into the doorway of the guest room as she passed. “Seems to me I remember the same argument coming out of my own mouth a few months ago.” She crossed her arms. “Did you leave me alone when someone came at me and broke into my house? No. I’m pretty sure I remember you bunking in my guest room and, oh, calling the police even though I asked you not to.”

Casey crossed her own arms and mimicked her friend’s posture. “Your brother pasted a target on your back. This is different. Tonight was a random mugging.”

“With a gun.” Kristin stepped into her personal space and leaned even closer. “Don’t pretend everything’s all sunshine and roses.”

“Like you did?” Jerking away, Casey stalked for the den. Kristin had no room to talk. When the smuggler her brother had double-crossed came calling, Kristin hadn’t wanted help either, even after she was attacked in her own home. “If I want to be alone right now, let’s say I learned from the best.”

“Ooh. Ouch.” Kristin twisted the dead bolt then followed Casey, her relentless streak going full bore. “See? This is how I know you’re not fine. You’re not me. You don’t go around biting heads off.”

She was right, for the most part. “Maybe I’m not like you in some ways. But in others...” Casey dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

“You need to be alone to cry.” Settling onto the opposite end of the creamy beige sofa, Kristin smiled with a gentleness out of character for her. Rarely did her blue eyes soften with sympathy. “I get it.”

“Yet you’re still not leaving.”

“Nope.”

“How did you find out anyway?”

Kristin’s eyebrow arched. “Two guesses.”

“Travis called Lucas.” Casey sighed. She should have known without asking. Kristin’s fiancé, Lucas Murphy, was platoon sergeant in the same company as Travis. They’d been close friends for years. It shouldn’t surprise her Travis had contacted his best friend, who’d turned right around and contacted hers. After all, they’d met through the other couple, and although Casey had managed to avoid Travis for months, her days of avoiding him had likely run out.

“I never understood why the two of you didn’t work out.”

“You’d have to ask him.” While Casey appreciated Kristin trying to change the subject, she’d a thousand times rather talk about the mugging than her nonexistent relationship with Travis Heath. He’d been fun, had made her laugh, had been a perfect gentleman. Then one day, he was simply gone. The thought of his departure still burned bitter. “So how’s the wedding planning coming along?”

Kristin’s lips tightened into a thin line. Clearly, she didn’t want to change the subject.

Getting engaged had softened her hard edges so much that she now thought the rest of the world should pair up, too. Even though it had been months since Travis quit their relationship, Kristin still held out hope her best friend and Lucas’s best friend would somehow form their own happy little family. She sighed. “Wedding planning is good. We’re going for simple. Small. You don’t come around enough anymore.”

So they were back to that. Well, she didn’t like being the third wheel. “Busy. And you ought not to be here. You should be out with Lucas, cuddling in a coffee shop or running a marathon or something.”

“I don’t cuddle in public, and we ran this morning.” Kristin laughed, the sound a bright light in the apartment that suddenly seemed dim. “Besides, it’s past midnight. Lucas better be at his house sound asleep.”

“And you should be at your house sound asleep, too.”

“I’ve got better things to do.” Reaching across the small gap between them, Kristin aimed a finger at Casey. “Like it or not, it’s a good thing Travis was with you. If the guy had a gun, he was serious.”

A shudder quivered Casey’s insides as she pictured the tense posture of the man who’d aimed that pistol. How much different would her night be right now if Travis hadn’t insisted on being a gentleman? She could have lost more than her laptop.

“I knew it would hit you.” Sliding closer, Kristin leaned her shoulder against Casey’s. Kristin had never been a touchy-feely person, but she knew how to help carry a load, especially since she’d found Lucas and Jesus. The change had taken some getting used to, but her friend was definitely happier now than she had been in previous years.

“I can’t stop the video.” Casey’s voice quavered, but she didn’t care. Let Kristin hear it. She was safe here. “I fought Travis on walking me to my car. If he’d listened to me and backed off...”

“But he didn’t. You’re right here, safe in your own apartment.”

Leave it to Kristin to hit her with a truth she couldn’t deny. Casey shoved aside the what-ifs. It was better to focus on the actuallys, which were a little bit easier to handle. “He took my laptop.”

“You mean your right arm?” Thankfully, Kristin followed her down the rabbit trail away from nightmares. “You had a backup, I hope.”

“I have my old machine to use until I can buy another, and everything is backed up on an external disk and in the cloud, but it’s still a pain. It’ll take a whole day to sort everything out and put it all together again.”

“Well, before you do that, you ought to spend some time out on your great-grandfather’s farm with your bow.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” It would feel good to pull back the string and let fly at a few targets. Really good. Load the fear and the stress into the tension of the string then release it forever.

It was a nice dream, but there was too much work to do. “Can’t. I’m wrapping up an interview with John Winslow tomorrow, and I have one with another guy the day after tomorrow.” No need to discuss John’s behavior tonight. She hadn’t even told Kristin there was a dinner. Confessing would bring too many questions Casey didn’t know how to answer.

She’d met John a year earlier, when she was writing an article about substance abuse among army veterans. He’d introduced her to a few other sources, and one of them had suggested the article she was working on now. When she’d contacted him again about discussing a mission he’d been on a few years ago, he’d been interested in everything she had to say, asking questions and talking for hours when they met for their first interview two days ago. He’d been the one to ask her to meet him for dinner instead of at her office, so the water was a little muddy when it came to what to call tonight. Especially since he kept disappearing with his phone, more distracted every time he returned to the table until she’d cut him loose.

“At least you won’t have to restart your story.”

“Thankfully.” Casey had already conducted interviews with two soldiers and had several more in-person and telephone interviews lined up... All except the one she’d rather not schedule at all. If she’d lost all her work, had lost her contacts or her calendar... She let her eyes drift shut, focusing on the averted technology disaster over the averted physical one. “The laptop’s locked, so everything’s safe, but still, the idea somebody has my stuff...”

“It’s violating. I know. I felt the same way when someone broke into my car and stole my keys last year. Even after I changed the locks, it still felt like somebody was creeping around in the dark corners of my house.”

“Well, they were.”

“Yeah, but—”

On the coffee table, Casey’s phone vibrated on the glass. Kristin reached for it and glanced at the screen, then turned it toward Casey. “Travis is calling you.”

“Let it ring.” Right now, she was too vulnerable, too willing to let her fear and overwrought emotions fool her into thinking he was the one who got away, that everything would be so much better if she had him beside her right now, holding her close while she leaned on his strong shoulder the way he’d let her at the crime scene.

Kristin dropped the phone onto the coffee table with a clatter. “If you don’t answer, he’s coming over here. You know how he is. He was worried enough when he called Lucas.”

“Text him and tell him you’re here and all is well.”

“Casey...”

“Just do it. I can’t talk to him right now.”

Kristin fired off a text, clearly irritated, then shoved the device onto the table beside Casey’s. “He’s a good guy. No matter what’s happened between you in the past, you owe him a thank-you for being there tonight.”

Casey begged to differ about him being a good guy, but yeah, she did owe him a thank-you for being a hero if nothing else. But when it came to forgiving him? It would take a whole lot more than him playing superhero.

* * *

Travis dropped his cell phone to the desk and stared out the window at the small strip of trees standing guard behind his apartment building. He missed the beach, the deep darkness over water where the only light came from the moon and stars. Living in a landlocked town might allow him to be close to post, but it didn’t give him a whole lot of opportunities to indulge his appreciation for nature.

He should have joined the navy, then he’d have had all the water he ever wanted. Whole oceans of it.

But he wouldn’t have been in place to help Lucas when he stared down danger in February. And he wouldn’t have been in place tonight to save Casey Jordan from a man who may have wanted money or something more. He still wasn’t sure which. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the gun, pointed unwaveringly at both of them.

He’d seen the aftermath of violence before. Had watched a good soldier and a better friend take the hit right in front of him, an image that overlaid tonight’s near-tragedy in rivers of blood. Sergeant Neil Aiken had been one of the best, and he’d died right in front of Travis, leaving a wife and two little ones behind to face the world without him.

And he’d still be here today if it hadn’t been for Travis’s foolish mistake.

Travis’s arms still bore scars from the shrapnel, but he’d survived. Had he been at the head of his team like he should have been, he’d have been the one to plant a boot in the wrong place.

Pulse pounding, Travis jerked the cord on the blinds and shut out the world. In a couple of weeks, he’d pack his bags and go to selection, then on to training for the Special Missions Unit that would take him far away from here.

And far away from Casey Jordan. For a few months with her, he’d let himself believe he could hold her close without getting attached. Then one day, the danger of such a belief hit him from the left. He’d been at her apartment, sitting on the couch with her snuggled beside him, watching some silly rom-com, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair... In the perfect peace of the moment, he’d known a depth of emotion he’d never felt before. It quaked something inside him, and when he’d kissed her goodbye he’d felt a kind of desperate, indefinable something that made him want to cling to her forever.

That night, his nightmares had amped their intensity, walking him again and again through the horrible day he’d been injured and Neil Aiken had died. He’d paced the floor in a desperate blend of guilt and fear that had made him want to claw at his own skin. He couldn’t love a woman like Casey. Couldn’t let her take over his life. He had too much to pay for sending one of his men ahead of him to die.

The next morning he’d texted Casey to tell her they were finished, full of lame excuses, aware such disrespect was the coward’s way out but knowing he could never go through with it if he heard her voice.

Now she’d reappeared in time to bring a deluge of memories with her.

In time to remind him of everything he’d lost when he walked away from her. If anything, she was more beautiful than he remembered. Casey’s gray eyes still had the ability to stop him where he stood, those same eyes that had made other men look twice when they saw her, something she never seemed to notice. Her blond hair had grown longer, though it still didn’t quite touch her shoulders. Shoulders that came to his chest, a fit he’d never known before or since.

But the fit had been all wrong.

Adrenaline and memories wouldn’t let him sleep anytime soon—if at all—so Travis poured a tall glass of soda and only wished for a second he had something stronger to mix in. He’d been down that road after Neil Aiken died, hard and heavy. Drinking hadn’t solved anything, hadn’t brought anybody back from the dead. It had made the memories worse and his thoughts exponentially more morbid.

So instead of wallowing in the past, he’d tried to call Casey. After seeing death charge her this evening, all he wanted was to hear her voice one more time, to reassure himself he’d succeeded in saving her. If he knew she was okay, he could put all of this to rest again and go on with his life without her.

But she wasn’t answering her phone, having Kristin text him instead of doing it herself. It shouldn’t cut, but it did.

She was probably upset with him for going behind her back to call Kristin, but that was fine. It wasn’t like things between them could get worse. She hadn’t spoken to him in months anyway. Not that she should. He’d been the one to walk away. He’d had to, and he couldn’t give her an explanation without making everything harder than it already was.

Travis took a long draw from his Pepsi and eyed the TV. Noise. Distraction. Anything would be better than the racket inside his own head.

His phone screamed from the desk, and he set the drink beside it, answering the call right before it went to voice mail. Casey. Desperate to know she was really still there, he didn’t even bother with a hello. “You doing okay?”

The question stopped whatever she’d planned to say. She stuttered, then fell silent before she spoke. “Yeah, I am now. I wanted to thank you for stepping in.” Her voice was uncharacteristically subdued. “You could have been shot.”

“So could you.” The thought brought those same fears he’d felt the night he’d left her. His leg muscles tensed, and he fought to relax. She really was safe. Things had worked out...this time. “Just the simple actions of your everyday superhero, ma’am.”

She chuckled low. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’m proud of that, if it’s a good thing. I promise to change immediately if it’s not.”

“You’re making my point for me.”

He’d keep making it, too, if she’d keep laughing, would keep chasing away the dark. In the past, she’d brought out the better man who lived inside him. Seemed like she still had the same ability. “Sorry I couldn’t save your laptop.”

“No worries. I get to spend tomorrow afternoon resetting my old one after I interview a guy for the article I’m working on.”

“You’re sure your laptop has a password?”

“Of course. It’s mine. I logged into it every day.”

“Good.” He winced. This was all the opposite of how it used to be. When he’d met Casey, they’d clicked immediately, from the moment she’d walked through Lucas’s front door and joined him on a pizza run. This? This was nowhere near the easy way they’d once fallen into. The discordance was his fault, and it stung in ways that made his palms sweat. “What’s your article about?”

“Nothing very interesting.” The way her voice dropped said differently.

“I doubt it. Tell me.” Not that he needed to know, but he wasn’t ready to stop talking and face his empty apartment again. He dropped into his desk chair and propped his feet on the windowsill.

She sighed in what sounded like defeat. “A Joint Task Force North mission on the Mexican border five years ago.”

Travis gripped the phone tighter. The shot was too close to the target for comfort. If she was talking with John Winslow, one of his former soldiers, it meant this was all about his mission. His team. “The one we ran with Border Patrol, when we rounded up enough henchmen to put an upstart cartel out of business?” He struggled to keep his voice level. She knew he’d been a team leader on the mission and she hadn’t even called to ask him for an interview.

No. Instead she’d called John Winslow. Awesome.

But that also meant she was with John tonight not because they were together, but because of her job. Her admission brought a warmth to his chilled bones. Only because she was safe from a self-proclaimed skirt chaser. Really, that was the only reason. Winslow was arrogant. Cocky. He collected women and tossed them aside as soon as he got tired of them, and it was usually faster than most people could imagine.

Travis winced. Kind of like he’d done a long, long time ago. “So tonight was an interview?”

“Tonight was dinner.”

“Oh.” His mood deflated. A date. She’d had a date. With Winslow.

Not only had she been out with a guy unworthy of her, it was one of his former soldiers to boot. The more he thought about it, the faster his fingers drummed the desk. “You could have interviewed me. I led the team.”

“I know.”

But she hadn’t called him. No explanation. No reason. Just I know. Maybe he deserved it.

Maybe it still burned anyway.

“I’m meeting him tomorrow afternoon at his house to go over—”

“I’ll go with you.” He’d take off work if he had to. No way was she going to meet Winslow at his house alone. The guy was smooth, and Casey was trusting. He’d have her head spun around so fast...

“Absolutely not.” Her words were as forceful as Travis had ever heard them.

Like a typical soldier, she’d never liked being bossed around in her personal life. He had to play this differently. “I haven’t seen Winslow in a couple of years, not since right before I last deployed. Didn’t even get a chance to speak to him tonight before he left. Would be a pretty interesting reunion.” To say the least.

Casey was quiet again, but this time, it was the kind of quiet that said she was considering his proposal.

“Think about it. You could interview me, too, and if John and I get talking, it might jog even more memories. You and I wouldn’t have to be alone. There would be somebody else there. I was the team leader. I can give you insight.”

He knew playing the reunion card would tug at her, and the prospect of a more fruitful interview would seal the deal. It tweaked his conscience a little, pretending he and John were better buddies than they had been, but she’d be a whole lot safer with backup beside her.

“You know what? Fine. I’m meeting him at one. I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

“Nah, I’ll come by your place half an hour before. I’ll talk to you later.” He cut the call before she could protest, knowing her mother’s manners were instilled in her deeply enough to keep her from leaving before he got there.

Travis dropped the phone on his desk and spun it in a quick circle. Keeping his distance would be hard, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. He had to protect Casey when she went to interview John, keeping her safe from another guy who would break her heart.

THREE

Casey tapped the download button and settled in to watch the app she used for notes load onto her new laptop. The whole morning had been consumed with stopping at the Post Exchange on her way in to buy a new computer and backpack, then downloading and resetting everything to her liking. Around her, the office was fairly silent, typical of a Friday. Most of the staff were busy at their desks or out working on various assignments. Casey and a couple of others sat in their cubicles, typing stories or conducting phone interviews.

She dragged her hands down her cheeks and rubbed eyes burning from lack of sleep, then reached for the mug on the warmer on her desk. The amount of caffeine she’d consumed today probably bordered on the danger zone, but it sure wasn’t helping to keep her awake. All it had done was serve to make her already-bouncing nerves more jumpy.

She’d hardly slept, certain every stray sound in the apartment was the man with his gun coming to finish the job. There was zero evidence the attack was personal, but somewhere in the darkest part of the night, her brain had grown convinced a shadow had followed her home and was waiting for her to fall asleep before he crept into her private space to finish the job.

If it hadn’t been for Kristin bunking in the spare room, Casey probably would have wandered circles through the apartment all night, obsessively checking under the beds and behind the shower curtains. Instead, she’d stared at the ceiling—perfectly visible with the light on—and prayed over and over for God to hide her from anybody who wanted to kill her.

“You look like you haven’t hit the rack in about six weeks.”

Casey jumped at the voice, then dropped her hands flat on the desk and leaned back in the chair to look at the face peeking over her cubicle wall.

Staff Sergeant Joel Brenner was the new guy, arriving a couple of months earlier from Fort Sam Houston. Right at six feet tall with dark hair and blue eyes too impossible to be real, he’d caught the attention of every single lady in the office.

Except Casey. Try as she might, she couldn’t work up anything other than a feeling of friendship for the man who went out of his way to pay attention to her. He was as nice as he was gorgeous, but nothing made her want to give him a chance. Something inside her must be defective.

Brenner rested his crossed arms on the low wall, his usually laughing eyes grim. “Seriously. What is going on with you, Jordan? You aren’t yourself today.”

“Didn’t sleep well last night.” She hadn’t told anybody at work what had happened, other than her laptop had been stolen. Even the thought of the uproar if the whole place learned someone had held a gun on one of their own was too much to bear. “You know how it is.”

“Getting absorbed by your story?”

“You could say that.” In a roundabout, parallel universe kind of way, sure.

“You do realize it’s lunchtime?” Brenner slid his hands out to the sides and gripped the top of the cubicle, then leaned back as far as he dared without toppling the wall, surveying the room. “Almost everybody’s packed and lit out of here for chow already.” He pulled himself in and studied the top of her desk. “Want to go to the Starbucks over by the commissary and grab some real coffee?”

Casey fought to keep from wrinkling her nose. She’d turned him down a hundred times, and a hundred times he’d asked again. Always friendly. Always hopeful. Kind of like a puppy begging for attention...if the puppy was drop-dead gorgeous.

Which might be one of the reasons she couldn’t quite get herself to accept a date. A guy who looked like him should never be interested in her. It made no sense. She’d taken the risk with Travis, and look where that had gotten her.

At least today, she had an excuse. “Got an interview scheduled this afternoon, and I have to jet out of here in about three minutes.” She glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. Zero hour, when she’d have to decide if she was going to go home to meet Travis or ignore him altogether and go to John’s by herself.

Both thoughts left a sour wave in her stomach. There was no good reason for her to want Travis to tag along, but she did nonetheless. Emotional memory must be the same as muscle memory. It was a part of her until she somehow managed to train it out.

“Tomorrow?” Brenner let the question hang and quirked a half grin.

Well, nobody could say he wasn’t persistent. “I’m booked. Different guy, same interview.”

The grin came on in full force, and it really was a sight to behold. He aimed a finger at her with a wink. “One of these days you’ll say yes.”

Casey grinned at the good-natured humor in his tone. She wanted to think it was true, that one of these days she’d be able to believe he was interested in her, that she’d be totally herself again and could see another man without coloring him through the lens of Travis Heath. It had been three months, and her world still held the sheen of him, whether she wanted it to or not.

Doubly so with his reappearance.

Forcing a smile, Casey shook her head and reached for the cell phone buzzing on her desk. “Someday could be a mighty long time. I’m thinking you ought to hone in on another target. There are plenty of women around here waiting for you to ask them for coffee, you know.”

He shrugged and glanced around the largely empty room, then looked at her, lowering his voice. “I know. But they aren’t you.” Backing away, he waved and walked away to his cubicle.

Casey watched him go, running her thumb along the smooth case of her cell phone. Why couldn’t she tell the guy yes? Even once?

With a sigh Brenner could probably hear from across the room, she flipped her phone over and glanced at the text message hovering on the screen.

I know you’re thinking about flaking on me. See you in half an hour.

Travis. Right there was the reason she couldn’t tell a guy like Staff Sergeant Brennan yes. Because Travis had wrecked her faith in men.

And he could still read her mind from miles away.

Shoving her phone into the leg pocket of her uniform, she closed her laptop and prepared to do battle not only with Travis, but with her own memories.

* * *

Casey twisted her silver ring around her finger and stared out the side window of Travis’s pickup, watching the pine trees pass as they drove out of town. The scene was both familiar and strange. She’d been certain she’d never occupy this seat again, yet here she was. Where she shouldn’t be. With a guy who was sure to crush her again if given the chance.

This ride-along was nothing like drives together had been in the past, when she’d thought she’d laid claim to some part of his heart. Instead of laughter-fueled conversations, the vehicle seemed to expand with the heavy silence of two familiar strangers loosely bound by memory and what-might-have-been.

Stupid. She should have left from work or bolted from the apartment before he arrived and headed to John’s by herself. Should have called him and told him to let it go, she could write her article without his input.

But the truth was, she needed company, even if it meant more time with Travis Heath. After last night, the idea of going anywhere alone brought cold sweat.

In a way, having Travis along for the ride to John’s interview was a comfort.

And in a way, it was infinitely more dangerous than any mugger with a gun aimed at her head.

“You’re quieter than usual.” Travis’s voice bounced in time with the ruts in the dirt driveway that wound through the trees to John’s house. “I’m really not used to you not talking.”

Well, he should get used to it. Other than thank you for driving me—which she’d already said—there was nothing left to talk about. Getting into the whole conversation about why he’d walked away while using the army as a cop-out was too depressing. “I’m more tired than usual.”

Not for the first time, Casey wished she had Kristin’s boldness. Her friend spoke what she thought and got answers when she needed them. Those attributes made her a good personal trainer, even if it had cost her a few friendships over the years. At least she knew where she stood at all times. Unlike Casey, who could only sit and fume silently instead of launching her hurt into open air.

Casey dug her teeth into her bottom lip as a house appeared in a small clearing. There was a time when she would have reached across the seat and sought Travis’s hand for support. When she’d have been the one making the call last night, and he’d have stayed on the phone with her, his voice enough to soothe her fears and let her slip into sleep. But he’d backed off, and where did you run when the person you normally ran to was the one who’d hurt you?

Until yesterday she’d been sure she was done with grieving the dream known as Travis Heath.

Now, well, she’d cut away the bandages to find the wound still raw.

She exhaled loudly as Travis shifted the truck into Park, turning her attention from the man beside her to the house tucked into the woods. John Winslow’s house was a small one-story ranch likely built in the late seventies. The wood siding was stained dark, and tall, narrow windows broke the space. There was no grass, only a clearing covered in pine straw from the towering trees dimming the early afternoon light.

The air in the truck cab was stifling. Casey popped open the door and stepped onto the carpet of pine needles. High above, the wind whispered in the trees like quiet voices. The sound crawled along Casey’s arms like the echoes of a bad horror movie.

Travis slammed the truck door and came around to meet her, his brow furrowed. “Seems kind of quiet. You sure you got the address right? That this is the time you two agreed on?”

Right now, Casey wasn’t sure of anything. She pulled her phone from her hip pocket and checked the text John had sent right after he left the restaurant, then turned the phone so Travis could see. “He should be here.” She shoved the phone into her pocket and tilted her head toward the side of the house. “His car’s here.”

Travis drummed his fingers on the hood of his truck, scanning the roofline and the surrounding trees. “Know the feeling you get when something’s hinky? When the hair on the back of your neck stands up?”

“Paranoia because we were mugged last night?” Casey brought on the sass, desperate to deny she felt it, too, an odd sensation that even the air was disturbed.

“Paranoia? Really?” His eyes caught hers and held, the cocky little half smile she used to think was so cute tugging at the corner of his mouth. He broke contact and surveyed the yard. “No. It’s too quiet. No birds. No squirrels. Almost like something scared them into hiding.”

Casey tilted her head to the side, determined to avoid any more eye contact, and focused on the sounds in the woods around them. Other than the wind talking to itself in the branches above their heads, there was nothing. The silence filtered the day, almost as though every distant noise had to squeeze through the heavy air. “Know what? John told me once he has a dog. Called it a loudmouthed beast who barked at his own shadow. You’d think a vocal dog would react to a truck in the driveway.”

The lines on his forehead deepening, Travis turned toward the house and eased his shoulder in front of Casey as though he were taking point on a patrol, his head swiveling from side to side, watching every avenue as they walked the small path to the front door, where the house almost seemed to hold its breath.

Casey wanted to shove him out of the way, but the quiet hung heavier as they drew closer to the door, and the breeze tweaked her imagination, brushing fingers along her neck. She fought a shudder and eased behind Travis, willing to let him take the lead.

The front door stood inside a recessed stoop, the sun’s angle cloaking the entry in shadows.

Shadows could be hiding anything, including a man wearing a hoodie and brandishing a pistol. Last night’s fear layered over reality, making the warm afternoon instantly sinister. Casey’s feet ached to run to the truck and gun the engine until she was on the road, leaving behind only a trail of dirt and pine needles to show she’d been there. Her muscles twitched, fear plucking the strings.

She’d do it, too, tuck tail and shelter in the truck until Travis gave her the all clear, if running didn’t mean Travis and John could have a good laugh at her expense. No way would she let that happen.

At the front door, Casey reached around Travis, desperate for a way to remind herself this was broad daylight in the country, not a dark parking lot in town. She rapped her knuckles hard against the wood.

The door swung open with the force of the blow.

Travis stepped aside, shoving Casey squarely behind him. “I knew something was wrong.” The muttered words were low but impossible to miss, pumping even more fear into her system.

Fear that had to be misplaced. She was jumpy, wired from having a gun aimed at her. This was silly, the stuff of bad television movies. Real life didn’t play out in crime scenes and bloodshed. “Nothing’s wrong.” She tried to shove ahead of him, swallowing a bout of anxiety, but he stood firm, his shoulder blocking her way.

“Stay behind me.” The command in his tone worked, and Travis eased to the side of the door, keeping Casey tucked close to him. He swung the door open with a flat palm. “Winslow? You in there? It’s Casey Jordan and Travis Heath.”

No sound came from the house.

Casey’s skin crawled. From all her interviews with John over the past couple of years, she knew his past experiences had bred a man who would never leave his home unsecured. “What do we do?”

“We go in.” Travis shielded her as he crossed the threshold.

This was a dumb idea. What if John was on the phone? Or he’d overslept? “Travis...”

He ignored her.

The front entry opened into the living area, where a large leather sectional curved around the sunken living room. Narrow floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, the heavy curtains drawn, casting the room in dark shadows. The sole light from the front door fell across the center of the floor.

Casey stayed close to Travis, willing her sight to adjust to the dim interior after the daylight outside. She felt along the wall, hoping they weren’t making a huge, embarrassing mistake.

Something like the smell of old pennies tickled her nose, familiar and frightening.

Only one thing smelled like that.

Travis hesitated. He must have caught it, as well. His hand swept along the wall and connected with a switch that flooded the room with light.

On the far left side of the living room, John sat in a kitchen chair, hands lashed behind him, chin hanging to his chest, blood covering the green T-shirt and jeans he’d worn last night and puddling on the floor at his feet.

Casey gasped and stumbled backward, Travis’s hold on her hand the only thing that kept her from going down. It was all the borrowed strength she needed. Stomach still roiling, she dug up every reserve she had as Travis’s fingers tightened around hers and pulled her forward.

He released her hand and dropped to his knees beside John, searching for a pulse. “He’s alive. Barely. Get in the truck, lock yourself in and call 911.”

“But...” She’d trained for moments like this, but living a situation where death hung so close was something she wasn’t prepared for. She’d been on a large forward operating base during her deployments, not on the front lines, and had seen the wounded from a distance. This much blood, this much pain... Death hovered so close it sucked in all the available air.

With a strangled gasp, John lifted his head and fixed panicked eyes on Casey. His face bore dark bruises, lips swollen and bloodied. His jaw worked, and he made a sound she couldn’t understand, a word that simply wouldn’t compute past the roaring in her ears.

The brief moment of contact jolted through Casey before John’s eyes dulled and he slumped forward, his breath shuddering before it stopped.

FOUR

Travis pressed the heels of his hands into the metal of his tailgate and forced his shoulders higher, trying to stretch the tension out of his lower back. It felt as though he’d been sitting in the same spot for days, even though emergency vehicles had crowded into John Winslow’s small clearing. Now, the quiet that had unnerved him earlier was obliterated by voices, radio calls and squawking emergency scanners.

Paramedics stood near the fire truck, speaking in low tones. On the other side of the vehicles, a small knot of first responders gathered around John’s dog, which had been found in the backyard, drugged but coming around. The brown-and-white Brittany spaniel found herself doted on by every person who had a spare minute.

She was a bright spot in a dark scene, but she brought an ache to Travis’s chest. The last time he’d had a conversation with John, it had been nearly two years ago, right after John adopted the puppy. Travis hadn’t been in the mood to talk. He’d been at the dog park with a buddy, who was adopting Travis’s dog before he took off on his last deployment. Travis had introduced the two men, suggested the guy’s wife as a veterinarian for John’s new puppy, then stayed out of the rest of the conversation. Now, in spite of the fact they’d had their differences along the way, Travis wished he’d been a little bit friendlier. Life was fragile and the end came out of nowhere. He’d learned the lesson well when a hurricane wiped out his small hometown in the Florida Panhandle. He’d seen it when Neil Aiken was there one minute and gone the next and when Kristin’s brother had been killed in Iraq. Today, life had fled right in front of him once again.

He grabbed the edge of the tailgate and held tight. Life went too easily, and it couldn’t be restored once it was gone.

Exactly like last night. It could have been Casey or him, gone in a moment with a muzzle flash.

Travis dug his teeth into his lower lip. Last night. When the man with a pistol had stolen Casey’s laptop.

On the running board of a nearby ambulance, Casey sat stiff, her shoulders a straight line as she stared at the fire truck that had led the charge into the clearing. The police had separated them, probably to keep them from tainting one another’s statements, but it was hard to watch her sit silently beside a female EMT who was obviously trying to keep Casey’s mind off the sights inside the house.

The paramedics who’d arrived first on the scene had confirmed what Travis already knew. John was gone. That one desperate gasped word—bet—had been his last.

Maybe John had owed someone money. He’d heard of pretty rough things happening when compulsive gamblers ran afoul of the wrong people. Maybe the mugging last night had been because someone had seen John with Casey and thought they could get to him through her.

Or maybe it was something else. Whatever the meaning, John had been determined to express it to Casey, even as his life ran out.

Travis couldn’t shake the feel of warm blood from his hands, though after the police had cleared him to do so, he’d scrubbed until his skin was raw and red. His attempts at CPR hadn’t yielded results. From the looks of John’s body, he’d been severely beaten before he died, his face and upper body bearing the evidence of a personal, vindictive anger that would haunt Travis until he drew his own last breath.

One more to add to the list.

Desperate for something else to focus on, he glanced again at Casey across the driveway, her gray pallor a pretty strong indicator she wasn’t doing much better than he was.

He prayed she hadn’t seen what he had—the laptop on the floor near the couch, the screen and keys splashed with John’s blood.

Travis wasn’t prepared to stake his life on it, but the vinyl protector over the keyboard looked familiar, exactly like the deep purple cover Casey used on her personal laptop. He’d seen it enough times in the past to get familiar with it, while she typed away as he watched sports on more than a few lazy Sunday afternoons.

He studied her profile, wishing he could explain everything about why those days had died. Coupled with the unlikelihood she’d even listen, his desire to make excuses was futile. He’d ended it. It was over, exactly the way it should be if he was going to move forward with the path God had laid out for him. Besides, there was no reason to start anything now, not when he was about to head out to start selection for the Special Missions Unit that would take him far from here.

Right now, though, with her sitting rigid and traumatized several yards away, all he wanted to do was erase the past three months and let her lean on him. He wanted to give her a silent promise she’d be safe as long as he was around. Somehow he could chase all the monsters away, even as he fought them himself. But he could make such a promise for only a short time.

Still, he was going to stick close for these next two weeks. Surely, he could keep his rational mind about him, if it meant keeping her out of danger. Because if the laptop really was hers, she was tied to John’s murder. Either John had stolen her laptop or his killer had, which meant she was close to this. A person who was capable of the kind of brutality that had ended John’s life wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Casey. The one thing he couldn’t puzzle out was why. What was on her laptop, what did Casey know, that tied all of this together? And why had they left it behind?

One of the officers in the group by the front door broke away and headed for a nearby squad car, his gait familiar. His step stuttered, and a slight grin quirked his mouth. He diverted course and headed toward Travis. “Heath. That’s not you, is it?”

The smile didn’t fit anything about this day, but battlefield conditions drew out the need for anything to relieve the tension. Travis hopped off the truck with an answering grin. “Brewer. You left behind army green for police blue?”

“Something like that.” Marcus Brewer clasped Travis’s hand in a tight grip and slapped him on the shoulder. “More like my wife was done after my four years were up. Didn’t like the moving once we had the first kid. She decided we ought to settle here so she could be close to her family. It’s a long way from Fort Hood, though. Those were good times.”

They had been good times, when both of them had been green in the army at their first duty station, heady with new soldier swagger. “And so long ago at this point, I almost can’t remember most of it.”

Marcus laughed. “You got that right. But one thing I’ll never forget. You never had a shortage of very pretty dates.” He glanced at Casey, then turned to Travis, his eyebrow arched. “Some things never change.”

“Casey’s a friend.”

“Sure. Right. And I’ve got eyes that can’t see.” Marcus hitched his thumbs into his belt. “What are you doing way out here in the middle of a crime scene?”

“John and I served together a few years ago, and Casey was interviewing him for a story. Thought I’d ride along.”

“Good thing you did.”

Travis bit the inside of his cheek. The comment brought a wave of gratitude he hadn’t expected. Last night, the idea to tag along with Casey had been an impulse driven by the image of her under attack and possibly a little misplaced jealousy. Turned out to have been the right call. He didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t been with her this afternoon.

With a glance over his shoulder at Casey, Marcus leaned closer to Travis, his expression grim. “Look, your friend?” He scratched his cheek, his gaze never leaving Travis’s. “Keep an eye on her. She might have trouble headed her way.”

The first time Travis had jumped out of an airplane, he’d stood in the door certain his stomach was going to abandon him by bottoming out through his boots. Right now, the same sensation leaped on him with a vengeance.

The laptop. They’d figured out it was Casey’s. Somehow, they suspected her.

He tensed for the fight, sending a silent thank-you to God he’d come here with her. If she’d been alone, there would be no alibi. “Number one, Marcus, I did CPR on John. I know...” He swallowed hard against the still-vivid vision. “I saw his injuries. Casey’s not capable.” He held up a hand to halt whatever Marcus started to say. “Number two, she was with a friend last night, at work this morning and with me this afternoon. She never had a chance to do this.”

Marcus thunked a finger against Travis’s forehead, the same way he used to do when Travis was getting stupid as a young private. “You done playing defense attorney yet?”

Fine, so he’d jumped the gun. The idea of Casey in handcuffs was a little too much to handle. He gave a stiff nod.

“I doubt someone as tiny as her could have manhandled the victim into that chair. But there’s enough evidence to warrant a few extra questions.” Arching an eyebrow, Marcus surveyed the area and lowered his voice again. “I saw the report. The two of you were mugged last night. At gunpoint. After she had dinner with the victim. Her laptop was stolen and one matching its description is inside the house next to a dead man. So either this is a crazy coincidence, or she’s in some kind of trouble. My man, stay close to her. And if you’re a praying person, start. Because you and I both know how rare a coincidence like this would be. That girl over there? She’s probably about to be in some real trouble, and the police are the least of her worries.”

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