Cold Peril_Military Romantic Suspense

by Emily Jane Trent

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t want you to worry. Trust me.” Then Garrett slowly undressed her, adoring her as he went. As he peeled off garments, he caressed her skin with hot kisses. When he took a bare nipple in his mouth, Marlene arched her back in pleasure.

  Garrett stripped off his clothes, and Marlene reached out to hold his heat in her fist. He was so virile and strong. She admired his rock-hard muscle, flat abs, and lean thighs. Stroking his erection sent molten heat to her belly. There wouldn’t be another man like him; he was the one for her.

  Garrett scooped her onto the pillows and straddled her, then held her hands over her head, pinning her to the bed. Marlene wrapped her legs around his waist to hold tight. He dipped into her, making her moan with the sensation. All she wanted was for him to take her, to feel him filling her, and to get lost in his arms.

  Garrett made love to her—as she did to him—sometimes tenderly, other times with passionate abandon. Each interlude was delicious, and Marlene craved more. His hot kisses and powerful body melted her from the inside out. She wanted to wake up beside him forever more, but accepted the special night together, no matter what the future held.

  Chapter 22

  Garrett had made love to Marlene long into the night. He’d sensed a change in their relationship, but couldn’t put it into words. All he’d been able to do was to hold her and love her. That would have to be enough for now.

  Marlene was his woman, the only woman he wanted. Yet having her seemed impossible. There were too many strikes against them, too many reasons it was a bad idea.

  Plus he was still keeping something important from her. Garrett cursed himself for not telling her at the first opportunity. Having had her in his arms, his gut wrenched at the thought of losing her. Yet that was a very real possibility once she learned the truth.

  In the still of the morning, Garrett reached under the sheet and raked his hand over the curve of Marlene’s hip. She stirred with a sigh, and opened her eyes. She was soft and warm, and he was aroused by the feel of her. When she snuggled closer, he pulled her against him.

  Garrett gently kissed her temple, then her jaw. Marlene’s green eyes met his and passion surged. With his hand on the back of her head, he pressed her into a deep kiss. Breathing her in and nestling against her feminine curves ignited a fire within him.

  As he kissed down her body, Garrett’s lips lingered on her silky skin. She was so sweet, so sexy. He pressed his lips to her belly, then over her sex. Marlene purred like a kitten, and Garrett put his palms on her thighs, slowly parting them.

  Reaching underneath, Garrett cupped her round buttocks, lifting her to his mouth. He sucked and licked, tasting her sweet cream. Marlene panted, and her hips rose to meet his lips. With a flick of his tongue, he drove her crazy. She whimpered, and Garrett spiraled the tip of his tongue around her most sensitive area.

  When she shuddered against his lips and cried out, Garrett pressed his mouth to her sex, relishing her pleasure. Then she collapsed to the bed, and he kissed his way back up to her lips. Rubbing his nose against her ear, he whispered, “I want you, sweetheart…like I haven’t wanted any other woman.”

  Then Marlene grasped his heavy erection and stroked with steady pressure. Reaching for the side table, Garrett found a condom and rolled it on. Then he dipped into her heat, sliding deep. She wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs and raked her hands through his hair.

  Garrett plunged into her with a steady rhythm, trying to hold back from exploding too soon. But Marlene felt good and was so hot. She gripped tightly around him, making a tiny sound in the back of her throat. It was his undoing. He kissed her with a wildness he couldn’t control, then his body stiffened.

  Marlene rocked into him and cried out, coming apart underneath him. Garrett released hard, and ecstasy swamped him. She was his; they were together as one. His breathing was ragged, and his heart pounded. He rested his head beside hers, taking a moment to recover as his body hummed with satisfaction.

  Then Garrett slid next to her on the bed and enclosed her in his arms. She was quiet, cuddled against him. Marlene was a dream, more than he deserved. It couldn’t last, but he held her tighter anyway. A man could hope, even if there wasn’t a shred of reality to base it on. Marlene was special, and he dared to conceive that somehow it all might work out.

  *****

  On the way to the studio that morning, they stopped at Marlene’s home to shower and dress. The filming had ended, but there was a press conference scheduled that afternoon. Garrett needed to go to Stealth for a status on the situation. He’d had a text from Cooper that indicated they were following up on a lead.

  Once Garrett ensured that Marlene was safely in the studio, he’d take care of business. It was the safest place for her, due to all the security on site. And he’d be back by the time the media arrived.

  When Garrett left Marlene, he sensed some tension. She’d said that press events were stressful, but a necessary evil. At least she’d be among the cast, and had her friend Anna with her. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, and he’d return soon to give her moral support.

  For the sake of efficiency, Garrett used one of security’s vehicles. He’d gotten away from using public transportation since traveling around in the limo; plus driving would get him back faster. Traffic was slow, as was usual for a Friday in Los Angeles, even though it wasn’t rush hour.

  He parked the car in the garage across from the building where Stealth occupied one of the upper floors, and headed toward the elevator. A sixth sense put him on alert. There had been times overseas, in the desert or the thick of a forest, where that was all that had saved him.

  Hypervigilance was like a superpower that could be learned. Over time, Garrett had honed his. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but the hair on the back of his neck pricked at the silence of the multi-level garage.

  Then a glint of metal caught his eye. Without hesitation, Garrett dropped to the floor and in rapid motion rolled behind a wide concrete pillar. The rifle shot echoed in the cavernous space and a bullet impacted an exterior wall.

  “Shit.” Adrenaline pumped through Garrett’s veins and he shifted into attack mode. That had been a rifle shot, but his Glock didn’t have as much range. He yanked it from the holster and held the gun in both hands, waiting, listening.

  Then there was a roar of an engine and the squeal of a tire. Garrett wasn’t foolhardy enough to stick his head around the pillar to see. At close range a shooter could hit a target even from a moving vehicle. He held his gun in position, ready to shoot the head off anyone who peered around.

  Then the sound of the vehicle faded. Garrett stood up, still concealed behind the pillar, and leaned over the wall to look down to the street. Like a flash, a motorcycle shot out of the parking lot and sped away. It was a black motorcycle, and even from above Garrett recognized Buckner’s build, how he straddled the bike.

  There was no use shooting. Garrett was too high up; Buckner was moving too fast. Then the bike disappeared. “Goddammit to hell.” He lowered the gun and kicked the wall. The shooter had nearly shot his head off. And now he’d escaped.

  How long had the asshole been in the garage? Buckner had waited for him, ambush style, intending to pick him off with a well-aimed rifle shot. Garrett didn’t have time to wonder how the guy had known he’d be there. Maybe he got his jollies hanging out there as a routine, hoping for the right moment.

  It didn’t matter. Buckner had shot at him like a hired sniper, and Garrett was pissed off. He stabbed at the elevator button. Impatient when it didn’t open fast enough, he jogged to the stairs and took them two at a time.

  Garrett strode into the building as if he hadn’t nearly been killed a minute before. His training had taught him to control his reactions. He’d slowed his breathing and heart rate, ready to face the enemy to conquer any opposition. On the way up to the office, rage bubbled to the surface. That creep has taken his last shot at me.

  When Garrett walked p
ast Tessa, she gave him a glance but didn’t say anything. He went straight down the hall and into the office. Travis looked up and, without flinching, said, “What happened to you?”

  “Buckner shot at me…that’s what.”

  Travis narrowed his eyes. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Garrett paced the floor in front of the desk. “He missed, as you can see…I saw the glint of his gun just before he pulled the trigger.”

  “You’ll be relieved to hear that we’ve located Buckner.”

  That had Garrett’s attention. “I need that information.” He leaned closer to the desk. “I’m taking that guy out.”

  Travis punched an intercom button. “Coop, get in here pronto. Garrett is storming around my office like a fire-breathing dragon.”

  The computer tech appeared in the doorway, unruffled. “Got something for you…it looks like we have an address for Buckner.”

  Garrett lowered into a chair. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Cooper sat down. “The license plate on the motorcycle panned out, after all. When I traced it, the name it was registered to didn’t match, and the address was falsified. But I just had a hunch, so I sent a guy to check things out.”

  Garrett listened, anxious for the punch line.

  “I got a driver’s license photo of the guy the vehicle is registered to, and had it shown around,” Coop said. “Eventually, we found a mechanic who recognized our guy. ‘Oh, that’s Christopher Ulridge,’ the guy says. ‘He’s a regular…loves that little Suzuki of his. It’s his baby. Comes by often to get it tuned up. Nice guy, a retired marine.’”

  “Marine my ass,” Travis said.

  “So we got an address on the owner, Christopher Ulridge, who is really Buckner lying low.” Coop grinned. “Everybody messes up, even bad guys. Buckner’s blind spot was his prize motorcycle. He gave a home address when he took it to the shop…overlooked the possibility that it could be traced back to him.”

  Garrett held out his hand, and Coop gave him a slip of paper with the address typed on it. “I just got that an hour ago. It’s better that you’re here anyway. I have an aversion to texting sensitive data.”

  Travis watched Garrett bounce out of the chair. “I’ll send someone with you.”

  “No need. He’s just one asshole; I can handle it,” Garrett said, waving the piece of paper. “When I find this rat, it will be my pleasure to take care of him. He won’t have any clear shots again. I’m gunning for him now.”

  Travis looked like he was about to say something, but Garrett cut him off. “I’m not afraid of Glenn Buckner. I just can’t wait to get my hands on him.”

  Without giving his boss a chance to argue, Garrett made a fast exit, in a hurry to get to Buckner’s place. The guy had gotten a head start, and would be there first. That was just as well. Garrett would have the advantage, so he could sneak up on the weasel and trap him.

  The residence was in West Hollywood, a bit of a drive from downtown, but conveniently located near Beverly Hills. It gave Garrett pause to think of how close Buckner lived to Marlene, no doubt by design. Yet he didn’t dwell on that. Garrett was focused, single-minded in purpose.

  When he pulled onto Buckner’s street, he slowed. It was a quiet residential area, deceptively so. The neighbors had no idea who’d moved in down the street. The guy had pawned himself off as retired military, faked the honorable designation. That ticked Garrett off, just like everything else.

  Garrett pulled off the street a couple of houses away, next to a grassy area between two homes. That way no one would wonder why a strange car was parked in front of their house. Each would figure it was a visitor to the neighbor’s home.

  Once on his feet, Garrett strolled along the sidewalk, purposely looking bored so as not to attract attention. He didn’t see anyone outdoors, but it didn’t mean that prying eyes weren’t watching him from a window. When he reached Buckner’s place, he took stock of the situation.

  The house appeared quiet, and the drapes were drawn. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the resident was sleeping in. Garrett had come prepared. Standing to the left of the front door, he retrieved a lockpick from his inside pocket, and within seconds he had the door unlocked.

  Garrett had made as little noise as possible, but waited to see if the occupant had noticed. Then he drew his gun, keeping it hidden behind his jacket, and opened the door. He was met with silence. Stepping inside, he let his eyes adjust to the interior lighting.

  There were no signs that anyone was home. Without making a sound, Garrett crept farther into the interior. He scanned each room, finding it empty. Then he went to the garage. The motorcycle wasn’t there. Buckner was gone.

  Cautiously walking through the house, Garrett took in the scene. The place was a mess; trash littered the carpet and the air smelled of rotten food, mingled with other noxious odors. A map of the city was tacked up to the living room wall where a homeowner would have normally hung a painting.

  Looking closer, Garrett saw red pins marking Marlene’s home, the studio, and Garrett’s apartment. He’d been there so infrequently that he’d nearly forgotten he had his own place. But Buckner hadn’t. There was even a pin in downtown at the Stealth Security office, and another right across from it at the garage.

  Turning, Garrett saw piles of papers on the coffee table and, leaning over, he read some cryptic notes. Yet they were clear enough. They were plans, details of missions, imaginary missions that Buckner had concocted.

  On the floor was a picture frame, its glass shattered. A photograph of Marlene hovered near the edge of the table, having been salvaged from the broken frame. For some reason, the scrawl of her signature caught his attention, and Garrett realized that Buckner must have obtained the picture at one of her charity events.

  It was all very creepy. Some weirdo had Marlene’s photo and spent endless hours plotting her demise—if that was Buckner’s goal. It wasn’t yet clear what the guy had in mind. Garrett’s skin crawled. That had to be it. Buckner wanted Garrett out of the way so he could have Marlene.

  Did Buckner really believe she’d go with him under any circumstances? Or did Buckner plan to kill Marlene too?

  As mentally unstable as the guy was, it was impossible to know what went on in his mind. Garrett walked through some other rooms, and checked out the kitchen. He wasn’t looking for anything specific, but thought he might find a clue.

  What he learned was that Buckner lived in a self-made delusion, devoted to strategizing and complying with orders that didn’t exist, hadn’t existed. From the looks of the place, Buckner did little else but fancy himself as a soldier. The circumstance wouldn’t have been worthy of Garrett’s notice, if it hadn’t been deadly.

  Whatever wild idea entered Buckner’s skull became his reality, or so it seemed. And he didn’t dream away his idle days, instead seeking to make his version of reality come true. The magnitude of what Garrett faced was grim. A man who didn’t live in the real world was capable of just about anything.

  Garrett had to get to Marlene. He didn’t intend to wait around until Buckner returned. Now that he knew where he lived, Garrett would be back.

  He retraced his steps through the house, having avoided disturbing anything. Buckner wouldn’t know that he’d been there, and wouldn’t realize they had his address. Covering his fingers with his shirt, Garrett locked the front door and pulled it shut.

  The street was still quiet; the chirp of a bird was the only sound.

  Garrett went back to the car and got behind the wheel. He turned the key and checked the time. It was getting late. The press conference would start soon, and he intended to be there when it did. The media weren’t dangerous, just annoying. Still, he preferred to be with Marlene when she faced them.

  He edged away from the curb and gave the car some gas. Halfway down the block, he tapped the brake to keep his speed down. The brake pressure was a bit weak, but he’d let them know when he returned the car. At the intersection f
arther down, he signaled to make a right turn, but when he put his foot on the brake, it went all the way to the floor. He pumped it, but it was useless.

  The car rolled through the intersection and crested a slight hill. Garrett yanked on the emergency brake, but that did no good. It must have been disabled when the brake lines had been cut. He was on residential streets and didn’t want to swerve into a kid or a dog, so he focused on steering to keep the car straight.

  At the next corner, Garrett turned onto a broader highway, pulling in front of oncoming traffic. It was a near miss, but the other driver honked and swerved around him. If only he’d been driving a stick shift, but he couldn’t downshift an automatic.

  Putting the car into neutral, Garrett looked ahead, needing a quick solution. The car was gaining speed down the hill, even without being in gear. Then he saw a park not far ahead. Unfortunately, the signal coming up was red. He scanned for traffic, and deftly missed a car crossing the intersection on the green light.

  Garrett steered up over the curb, across the grass, and into a massive tree trunk. The airbags exploded, knocking him in the chest—but the car had stopped. He shoved at the airbag and managed to get out of the car. Then he turned and sprinted toward the main thoroughfare.

  Once the accident was spotted, the police would be called. Garrett wasn’t about to stick around for that. Buckner was on a rampage. Cutting the brake lines hadn’t propelled the car into a fatal accident, but it had slowed Garrett down.

  He needed to get to the studio. With Buckner on the loose, there was no time to waste. Running faster, he made it to the busy street, but there were no taxis in sight. It wasn’t New York, after all. Garrett thought quickly. He could call Travis and have him send one of the team to pick him up.

  That would take too long. By the time a ride got there, it could be too late. The car ride had gotten him closer to Hollywood, thus closer to Marlene. He considered running, but again, too slow. Garrett spotted the street car a block over and sprinted to catch it.