Rules in Rescue

by Nichole Severn

  She walked away from him once.

  Now he’s her only hope.

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

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

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

  “I don’t hate you, Glennon. Trust me, I’ve tried.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about their meaning. But it was the truth.

  RULES IN RESCUE

  Nichole Severn

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

  Books by Nichole Severn

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Rules in Blackmail

  Rules in Rescue

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Anthony Harris—He can’t refuse Glennon’s plea to help recover her missing partner. He’ll risk his life to keep her safe, but losing his heart to the woman who walked out on him is an entirely different matter.

  Glennon Chase—When she starts investigating her partner’s disappearance, there’s only one man Glennon trusts to keep her alive—but Anthony’s refusal to help means she’ll have to reveal a truth about their past not even the military has uncovered.

  Bennett Spencer—After sending Glennon a mysterious message, the CID special agent has disappeared. The closer Anthony and Glennon get to recovering her missing partner, the more they’re convinced Bennett isn’t what he seems.

  Nicholas Mascaro—Suspected of orchestrating the sale of millions of dollars of military weapons stolen from bases all around the country, Sergeant Mascaro has been court-martialed and sentenced for his crimes. But it looks like someone has taken his place at the head of the operation, and they’ll do anything to keep Glennon from discovering the truth.

  Elizabeth Dawson—As a former consultant for the NSA, Elizabeth is capable of building or destroying lives with the touch of a button, but uncovering who wants Glennon dead may be one of her toughest challenges yet.

  For my readers.

  I finished this book a month before I gave birth to my

  second demon spawn.

  It was nice knowing you while I was still sane.

  Contents

  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

  Excerpt from Marked by the Marshal by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Chapter One

  “I need your help,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I have a son,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  She nodded, blood coating her gun hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

  I found proof.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 
-->