by Terri Reed
Plus, he wouldn’t deny he liked having Felicity within arm’s reach. In case of a threat, he told himself. Not because she was a beautiful woman. Which wasn’t the best path for his thoughts to wander down, especially after nearly telling her about his father.
That kind of slip wouldn’t be productive. The last thing he wanted was her pity.
Her anger he could take. She could chew him out all she wanted about not giving praise. He’d turned out just fine without receiving any.
Ethan Webb and Linc Colson occupied the other two seats at the table. Linc had arrived a few minutes after them. Apparently, Ethan had called him on his way to the eatery.
Westley couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in a restaurant with those he considered friends. Most of his meals were frozen, microwavable dishes eaten in the training-center break room. This was a nice change. He only wished it hadn’t come at the cost of so many lives.
“I heard you mention you had leave coming up,” Felicity said to Ethan. “Any fun plans?”
“Nothing firm,” he replied. “After being overseas, it will be good to relax.”
Having never been deployed, Westley could only imagine Ethan’s need for some downtime.
A tall muscular man stopped by their table.
“Hey, Isaac,” Westley said, standing to shake the Senior Airman’s hand. “I’d heard you were back.”
Isaac Goddard was a former combat pilot recently returned from Afghanistan.
“Yes, it’s good to be home.” Isaac’s green eyes rested a moment on Felicity. “Hello.”
She smiled at him. “Hi. We haven’t met.” She held out a hand. “Felicity Monroe.”
The two shook hands and a strange sense of possessiveness spread through Westley. He wanted to put his arm around Felicity and claim her as his. Instead, he said, “You know Ethan and Linc?”
The other men rose to shake Isaac’s hand and clap him on the back.
“Welcome home,” Linc said.
“I heard you’re trying to bring home a dog from Afghanistan,” Ethan said.
Isaac nodded, his expression haunted. “That’s right. I filed the paperwork to have Beacon sent to me.”
Curious, Westley asked, “Is the dog injured?”
“No, he’s a hero.” Isaac rubbed his chin. “He saved my life.”
“What kind of dog is Beacon?” Felicity asked.
“A German shepherd. I really hope the brass will let me bring him to the States. I’m afraid of what will happen to him if he stays there.”
“We’ll pray you and Beacon are reunited,” Felicity said in a gentle tone.
Tenderness filled Westley at her thoughtful comment.
Isaac gave her an odd look. “Okay. Anything that helps. I’ll see you all around.” He walked away and they took their seats.
Felicity leaned close. “Uh-oh, here comes Heidi.”
Sure enough, the female base reporter weaved her way through the crowded tables, heading straight for them. “Incoming,” he said to the others.
Ethan and Linc swiveled to see who was approaching. Because they were in a casual setting, they dispensed with the formal salute.
As soon as Heidi reached the table, Linc held up a hand to the base reporter. “No comment.”
“I know, I know,” she said and adjusted her dark-framed glasses. “You all can’t talk about the Red Rose Killer. That’s not why I’m here.”
Westley wasn’t buying it. “Then why are you here?”
Heidi pointed to Felicity. “I understand you’re being reassigned to the photo lab.”
“Where did you hear that?” Westley asked. It wasn’t a secret, or at least it wouldn’t be once Felicity started roaming the base with her camera. But it was still disconcerting to know the information was out there already.
“I never reveal my sources,” she said. “Is it true?”
Felicity sighed. “Yes, it is. Lieutenant General Hall asked if I’d take on the position because the current photographer is transferring off base.”
Heidi edged closer to the table and took a notebook and pen from her purse. “Felicity, is this reassignment really because you’re a target of Boyd Sullivan?”
“Hey,” Ethan objected. “Didn’t we just establish we’re not discussing him?”
Heidi’s eyebrows drew together, but she didn’t acknowledge Ethan’s words. “What qualifications do you have to be base photographer? Formal training?”
“I’ve taken some photography classes,” Felicity replied.
Heidi made a note. “Won any awards? Had your work displayed in a gallery?”
Felicity shook her head and a red flush crept into her cheeks. “No.”
Sensing how uncomfortable Felicity was, Westley said, “Enough with the questions. Lieutenant General Hall feels she’s a good fit for the job. That’s all that matters.”
Heidi hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder over her standard blue short-sleeve service shirt. “And I’m trying to do my job.”
Felicity put a hand on his arm. “It’s all right.” To Heidi she said, “I’ll be photographing the BMT graduates and their families Thursday. You might want to come and see how it goes.”
There was gratitude in Heidi’s smile. “I will. Thank you.” She glanced around the table. “Are you all going to the memorial service tonight at the Canyon Christian Church? I understand Pastor Harmon will be doing a special tribute to the victims.”
Westley’s gut clenched. Felicity’s fingers tightened on his arm. He could feel the tremor traveling through her. He covered her hand, offering what little comfort he could.
“Yes,” Felicity said. “We’re going.”
Ethan and Linc nodded also.
“Then I will see you there.” Heidi pivoted on her black flats and wove her way out of the restaurant.
“How did she know you were here?” Ethan asked Felicity.
Felicity shrugged. “I guess the base grapevine is alive and well.”
Westley signaled to the waitress they were ready for their check.
After paying their bill, Westley and Felicity left the restaurant.
“I’d like to go home and freshen up before the service tonight,” Felicity said as she put her car in Reverse.
“Of course,” he said. “Let’s stop by the training center so I can do the same. Then we’ll go to your place.”
She pursed her lips. “You really aren’t going to let me out of your sight, are you?”
“Not if I can help it.” He was tasked with keeping her safe. More like he’d demanded the detail, but he didn’t need to explain that tidbit to her.
* * *
The Canyon Christian Church pews were filled as Felicity, with Westley at her side, filed into the large sanctuary. Everyone was standing, with arms around each other, as they sang “Amazing Grace.”
Memories of her father’s memorial service played through Felicity’s mind. She’d sat in the front row with her mother at her side. They’d held on to each other in their grief while Pastor Harmon had spoken about her father’s years of service and dedication to his country and his family. Felicity’s heart had broken over the senseless accident.
But it wasn’t an accident. He’d been murdered.
Acid burned through her chest. She placed her hand over her heart, feeling the outline of the key beneath her dress uniform.
“This way,” Westley whispered in her ear, drawing her back to the present.
He guided her to a pew on the right, where an airman shuffled over to make room for them. Westley stepped aside so she could move past him. She couldn’t stop herself from giving him an appreciative glance. He wore his dress uniform well.
The navy jacket fit his broad shoulders and tapered down to his trim waist. She thought him handsome in his battle-ready uniform and i
n civilian clothes, but in the dress blues, he was hotter than the Texas sun in July.
She gave herself a mental head slap as she stood next to her friend Rae Fallon, a rookie fighter pilot. Rae smiled at her with sad eyes and put her arm through Felicity’s.
Emotion welled within Felicity as Westley placed his arm around her waist. His compassion and willingness to comfort her in public sent surprise cascading over her, warming her from the inside out. But then the rational side of her brain kicked in. Everyone had an arm around the person next to them. He was simply following suit. She wouldn’t read more in to it. Instead she focused on how good it was to be a part of something so much bigger than herself. And seeing the camaraderie among her fellow servicemen and -women gave her comfort.
When the music ended, everyone sat and Pastor Harmon approached the podium. On the big screens behind him, four images appeared—Airman Landon Martelli, Airman Tamara Peterson, Airman Stephen Bulter and basic military training commander Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood.
Tears sprang to Felicity’s eyes. Her heart hurt for the loss of the fellow MWD K-9 trainers, the commissary cook and the father of her friend Maisy.
After Pastor Harmon’s touching eulogy for the murdered air-force personnel, Felicity and Westley left the church with the crowd.
“We’ll head back to the training center to grab Dakota before going to your house,” Westley told her.
She nodded. Her spirit felt heavy with the weight of grief and anger. Why had Boyd come back to the base to kill? Why hadn’t he just disappeared once he escaped prison? She could only imagine how warped his mind was to make him risk returning to Canyon to spread his evil.
“Westley,” Captain Justin Blackwood called from the sidewalk, where he stood with his sixteen-year-old daughter, Portia, who’d only a year ago come to live with Justin after her mother died.
Felicity and Westley veered off their path and stopped by Justin. “Sir,” Westley said with a salute. Felicity followed suit.
Justin returned their greeting with his own salute. Felicity had to press her lips together to stop a smile when she noticed Portia roll her eyes and duck her head to stare at her phone.
Felicity remembered what it was like to be the daughter of an officer in the United States Air Force. All the protocols, the pomp and circumstance, that to a young girl seemed over-the-top. But Felicity had grown to appreciate the steady nature of the military. She hoped one day Portia would as well.
“How are we with the dog situation?” Justin asked.
“Rounding up more every hour, sir,” Westley replied.
“Good.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Now if we could only find Boyd Sullivan. We found out how he got on base.”
“We heard,” Westley said. “But once on base, someone had to have hid him. Do we know who yet?”
“Unfortunately, no. But we’re still combing through the personnel, looking for anything that might point to his accomplice.”
“Did someone talk to his half sister?” Felicity asked.
“She’s been questioned. She admitted to visiting her brother in prison but denies helping him in any way. Do you know her?”
“We’ve met briefly, but no, I don’t know her,” Felicity replied. Even though the base could feel small and isolated at times, there were too many people on base to become friends with everyone.
Justin nodded, his gaze going to something over her shoulder. She turned to see Heidi standing close by. Boy, she never gave up.
Felicity turned back toward the captain and noticed the other base reporter, John Robinson, lurking by the lamppost, obviously trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. They clearly had a tag team going. She nudged Westley and directed his attention to John.
Westley shook his head. “Vultures. Sir, we should table any more discussion until the meeting tomorrow.”
“Agreed. Good night. Be careful,” Justin said before turning away and ushering his daughter to the parking lot.
Because the church was only a few blocks from the training center, they had parked there and, walked over. Now twilight had slipped to night. A million stars twinkled in the sky and the moon rose in a crescent over the base. In some ways so ordinary. A typical night in Texas. However, today had been anything but ordinary.
Four people were dead.
A killer was on the loose.
And she’d learned her father’s death had been murder.
Tension coiled through her as she walked. Her pace picked up.
“Eager to get home?” Westley murmured as he matched her stride.
“Eager to put this day behind me,” she replied.
He snorted his agreement and slipped a warm hand around her elbow. It was a gentlemanly gesture. Protective. Possessive.
Her heart fluttered.
In a panic, her gaze leaped to the stop sign ahead as if her brain was sending her a warning.
Don’t go any further with that train of thought.
Letting herself believe his actions had any deeper meaning beyond protecting her from Boyd Sullivan was foolish.
The crowd from the church thinned the farther away they walked from the building. They passed the dentist offices and rec center. The veterinarian clinic’s lights were on and Felicity waved to the receptionist in the window. As they crossed the parking lot for the vet clinic, the sound of an engine turning over marred the quiet night. Odd. The streetlamp that normally kept the lot lit up at night was dark.
“Hurry,” Westley said.
Sensing his tension, she quickened her pace even more. Tires squealed as a car shot forward. Felicity caught a glimpse of a chrome grill before Westley’s arm snaked around her waist and he lifted her off the ground.
With her wrapped in his arms, he dove out of the way seconds before the vehicle roared past, barely missing them. They landed hard on the pavement, Westley taking the brunt of the fall, Felicity landing on top of him. For a long, silent moment neither moved.
Heart in her throat, she said, “Are you okay?”
He grunted in reply. “Up.”
Realizing she was squishing his midsection, she disentangled herself from his hold and rolled to the side in a sitting position. In the dark, she reached for him, finding his shoulder as he sat up.
“That was close.”
She sucked in a breath at his words. Too close. Someone had tried to run them down. “That was a base vehicle. One they use to move the planes.”
“We need to alert security.”
“Can you stand?” she asked.
“Yes,” he barked out.
She didn’t take his tone personally as she rose and helped him to his feet. He was allowed to be cranky after dodging a speeding truck. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Saved both our bacon,” he said. “That maniac would have mowed us both over.”
“True,” she said past the tension lodged in her chest like a rock.
Only when they were inside the training center did she see that Westley’s uniform jacket was ripped at the elbow and blood seeped from a scrape. While he made the call to Security Forces, she went in search of gauze and alcohol wipes.
She ran in to Bobby Stevens, an airman and new trainer who’d only been at the center for a month.
“Hey, Bobby,” she said.
He saluted. His gaze took in the items she held. “Everything okay?”
“Westley’s injured,” she told him. “I got it.”
“What happened?” Bobby followed her to Westley’s office, where he was still on the phone.
Not sure she if should say anything, remembering Ian’s warning of not trusting anyone, she fudged. “A little mishap, that’s all.”
Westley ended his call and said, “Bobby. How are the dogs?”
“Good, sir,” Bobby replied with a salute.
Westle
y returned the salute with a wince. No doubt from his injured elbow. “Make sure to let the vet know if any of the dogs seem off. You never know what any one of them could have eaten.”
Bobby nodded and hurried away.
To Felicity, Westley said, “Let’s get Dakota and go.”
She frowned and held up the gauze and wipes. “Let me dress your wound.”
“Later.” He came around his desk and went to a closet, where he grabbed a duffel bag. “Let’s go.”
By the time they made it outside with Dakota trotting alongside them, two Security Forces vehicles rolled to a stop. Linc hopped out of one and Justin out of the other.
Justin strode to their side. “What happened?”
After Westley explained, Felicity spoke up. “I recognized the vehicle as one of the trucks that push the planes around the runway.”
“Did you get the license number?” Linc asked.
“It had been removed,” she told them.
To Linc, Justin said, “Put out an alert. Anyone sees one of those trucks missing a plate needs to report in.” Linc nodded and headed back to his vehicle. To Westley and Felicity Justin asked, “Any chance you saw the driver?”
They both shook their heads.
“We were too busy diving out of the way,” Westley remarked drily.
Justin rubbed his chin. “Last we heard, a civilian reported spotting Boyd a few hours away. But that person could be mistaken and he could actually be on base.”
“Or the driver could be someone else,” Felicity said. Her gaze met Westley’s.
“The one who ransacked your house?” Justin looked thoughtful. “Why try to hurt you?”
She didn’t have an answer. It was one thing to think the villain was searching for the file on the hit-and-run. Now was he trying to kill her?
A shiver of fear went through her. Dakota edged closer and touched his nose to her hand. The dog apparently sensed her upset.
“I’m taking Felicity home,” Westley said. “Dakota and I will be on twenty-four-hour duty.”
Felicity wanted to say that it wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t about to put herself in a vulnerable position just because she was uncomfortable with the idea of Westley in her home.
