The Texan's Return

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The Texan's Return Page 24

by Karen Whiddon


  They said their pledges to each other as the sun set, hearts full of love and joy. There were no longer any shadows across their love. They used the traditional vows, with one slight change. They’d had a single word written in for each of them near the end, right before the preacher told them to kiss.

  “Together,” Mac said.

  “Together,” Hailey echoed.

  After that, they both spoke at once. “Forever.”

  And then the groom kissed the bride.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this novel, don’t miss other

  suspenseful titles by Karen Whiddon:

  THE RANCHER’S RETURN

  TEXAS SECRETS, LOVERS’ LIES

  THE MILLIONAIRE COWBOY’S SECRET

  THE COP’S MISSING CHILD

  THE CEO’S SECRET BABY

  Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  SECRET AGENT UNDER FIRE by Geri Krotow

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  Secret Agent Under Fire

  by Geri Krotow

  Chapter 1

  Abigail Redland had never heard so many different birdcalls in her life. Hunched on the dirt floor of a long-ago abandoned play fort, she hard-swallowed a laugh. Imagine, she was having more fun in the deer-tick-infested woods of central Pennsylvania than she’d ever had in her office at FBI headquarters in Washington, DC. Cramped muscles from the long night of surveillance included. She stretched her legs in front of her, careful to remain silent as her hamstrings protested with sharp spasms.

  “You still there, Abi?” Rio Ortego’s voice sounded in her earpiece and broke through her mental distraction.

  “Here. Nothing.”

  “Roger.” Rio was all business, as usual. Not only was Rio the Silver Valley Police Department detective who ran their current op, he was also a fellow Trail Hiker secret agent. Abi still had to pinch herself that she’d landed her new job with the autonomous government shadow agency so quickly after she’d left the FBI.

  Because of its secrecy, she’d never heard of Trail Hikers. The fact that it was headquartered only two hours north of DC and yet a world away in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania, had intrigued her. As had the scope of their missions, international and domestic, outlined to her by the Trail Hiker CEO, Claudia Michele, a retired Marine Corps General. That had been almost three months ago, and Abi would be forever grateful to Claudia for finding her via the FBI’s database of departing employees. Abi figured she’d have to take a job that wouldn’t use her arson expertise as a cushion between the FBI and whatever came next. Being a Trail Hiker agent was a godsend, even if she still didn’t know what was going to come next. All she knew was that she didn’t want to be taking down bad guys for the rest of her life.

  Abi used her binoculars to go over every visible part of the house across the woods for what had to be the hundredth time in two hours and she all but willed their target to appear. She was at most one hundred yards from the house but the binoculars were invaluable. At least she didn’t have to rely on the night-vision goggles any longer—the sun had been up for a good hour.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, two ominous booms preceded a thin line of smoke wafting on the early morning breeze—her only warning before the sight of graceful flames registered as they licked up the side of the old, abandoned home.

  “We’ve got heat. Flames. Heading in.” She dropped her binoculars and began to unfold herself from her hidden position on the ground.

  “No, Abi, stay put. We’ve called the fire department in. Watch for the arsonist.”

  “We’ll never catch him if you keep relying on the SVFD, boss.”

  Rio didn’t respond and Abi didn’t expect any different. She didn’t have anything against the local fire department—Silver Valley Fire Department wanted the bastard as much as, if not more than, the Trail Hikers and Silver Valley PD combined. They’d all been tracking this loser for the better part of three months. He’d set building after building on fire, each time leaving a fireproof message in his wake, either outside near but far enough from the blaze, or, in many cases, in a fireproof lockbox. Always a warning for Silver Valley to “listen to God” and “revert to the old ways.”

  The mental image of the printed, computer-generated messages, all part of the evidence file, made her grind her teeth. Chances were that the fire starter was long gone, as most arsonists fled the scene immediately after committing their crime. He may have set the stage for the flames a day ago, to enable a quick entry and exit from the scene. Anger engulfed her as she faced the hard fact that he’d somehow sneaked in and out without her or the police or fire department’s notice. Certainly none of the SVFD’s walk-throughs had yielded hard evidence, either.

  Abi resumed her vigil anyway, which was automatic from years of FBI fieldwork. She forced herself to still and listen intently for any telltale signs of a human being. There had been none when she’d arrived four hours ago, well before sunup. The fire department had searched the house, along with several other empty buildings, last night and, from what Rio had told her, SVFD had found no indication of flammables or explosives in any of the suspected structures.

  She stared at the old farmhouse. A farmhouse that probably should have been razed decades ago judging from the weathered clapboards and rusty hinges visible from the outside. She hadn’t gone in to inspect it with the firefighters; as a secret Trail Hiker operative she had to remain as invisible as she could. Her cover as a special contractor to the police department worked but there was no need to push it.

  Only a handful of Silver Valley PD officers knew about the Trail Hikers, and the secret government shadow agency put a capital S in secret. It was easy enough to blend into the police department, though, as it regularly had civilians coming and going. It would be much more difficult to do her work in a fire department without loaded questions regarding her identity. Besides, she didn’t think any Silver Valley FD firefighters had been read into the Trail Hikers or she’d have met them as part of this case. Trail Hikers was so classified that she wasn’t privy to who was a part of the agency and who wasn’t. Abi didn’t care about that, anyhow—she was damn grateful to have this job. It was the perfect transition to her new life, whatever that would be.

  Twigs snapped and a loud thud made the ground quake. Her spine stiffened and she looked through every crack in the fort, taking care to stay as quiet as possible.

 
“Crap!” The oath was followed by the sound of heavy steps on the forest floor and jeans-clad legs entered her field of vision.

  Carefully and intentionally, Abi crawled toward the entrance of the fort, her weapon drawn. When the feet began to sound a pattern moving away from her, she burst out of the shed.

  “Police!”

  She made out a tall figure, male, in a hooded sweatshirt. He turned in her direction and revealed a face covered with a ski mask. His single, deliberate hand gesture made his intention clear before he turned and ran. He zigzagged between trees and bushes, eliminating her chance at a clear shot.

  Abi began pursuit.

  * * *

  “We’ve got the building surrounded, Chief.”

  “Roger,” Keith Paruso replied to his team leader over the wireless audio system. The fires were never difficult to put out, as long as they caught them early. In this case they’d narrowed the arsonist’s next target down to three abandoned farmhouses and, sure enough, he’d struck the first one on their list. His team had been here in less than three minutes, pre-positioned on the main highway.

  It was almost too easy.

  If it was up to Keith, the son of a bitch wasn’t going to get away this time. As he scanned the perimeter of the scene, his spine stiffened when he spotted a hooded figure running along the far edge of the farm clearing. “I’ve got a suspect and I’m going after him.” As he spoke he shucked off his gear and then ran straight for his target, grateful he hadn’t donned his firefighting boots. He’d hoped he’d get a shot at capturing the criminal.

  Was it his job to catch and apprehend an arsonist? No. That was for SVPD and other law enforcement. Keith’s job was to run his fire department and make sure they put the fires out and kept Silver Valley citizens safe.

  But this criminal was different; the entire case was different. He was certain, as was his sister’s boyfriend, Rio, that this fire starter was connected to the True Believer Cult. A cult that had been led by Leonard Wise, who’d convinced vulnerable single mothers that he was their savior. That their daughters would be the mothers of the “new community” he envisioned. The cult had been disbanded by arrests and incarcerations two decades ago, after a twelve-year-old girl reached out for help. That girl had grown into Zora Krasny, a woman relocated and raised in Silver Valley under the witness relocation program. Unfortunately, prison terms ended and the perpetrators had regrouped in Silver Valley over the past eighteen months, hundreds of miles from upstate New York, where they’d caused trouble all those years ago. Now the True Believers, still with Leonard Wise at the helm, were calling themselves the New Thought community. Suspicious activity that turned criminal and life-threatening had occurred in the usually quiet town of twenty thousand. As soon as Rio and SVPD could get the needed evidence, they’d take Leonard Wise and his cult down for good. Trail Hikers was involved because of the potential for disaster; the local law-enforcement agencies, or LEA, could handle only so much.

  Keith adjusted his stride to leap over a Civil War–era fence, stomping down on thistles and brambles as he landed. The fence was a keen reminder of the violence central Pennsylvania had endured almost two centuries ago. It was ironic that the peace that emanated from the surrounding Appalachian Mountains was being disturbed again, but this time by a modern-day cult.

  The toe of his running shoe caught on a tree root and he pitched forward but regained his balance quickly. When he did, he noticed a second figure on the run; a woman with her weapon drawn and in the fist of her pumping arm as she chased after the suspect. She wore a Kevlar vest. What the hell?

  Was it an SVPD officer? He personally knew only one female SVPD cop, Nika Pasczenko. He didn’t know the others. Nika was taller, leaner than the definitely feminine figure streaking across the field. This woman was a stranger to him.

  He ran across her path toward the suspect, figuring either he’d catch up to her or they’d corner the arsonist.

  But the bastard disappeared from the horizon, only to be seen again on a dirt bike that roared as he made his escape, holding on to an accomplice who drove the vehicle.

  He kept running, until he was almost even with the woman who stood stock-still, her arms still raised as if she’d get off a shot at the now long-gone bike.

  He slowed to a walk and approached her from behind, and was treated to the most colorful string of epithets he’d experienced since becoming a firefighter. She was speaking to someone, probably mic’d for the stakeout he knew Rio had set up.

  “Yeah, the SOB’s gone. What do you mean there aren’t any SVPD units to cut him off? Why the hell did I just spend the last night using my rudimentary camping skills if you didn’t have backup?”

  His foot snapped a twig and she whirled on him, her pistol in his face.

  “Whoa, there. Hey, I’m on your side. I want to catch the bad guy, too.” He held up his hands and offered a grin, still marveling at her effusive dirty language. Marvel turned to awe as huge doe eyes rounded and, after looking him over, she spoke into the small mic he saw pinned to her bulletproof vest.

  “I’ve got someone here with me. What is your name?” Eyes on him again.

  “Keith Paruso, Silver Valley Fire Department. Chief.”

  Whoever spoke to her in her ear confirmed his identity because she lowered her weapon and holstered it, keeping her dark gaze steady on him.

  “Roger. I’ll meet back up with you in a bit.” She yanked her earpiece out, her gaze steady and sparking the wrath of the devil as she leveled it on him. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you, Chief.”

  He ignored her insincere apology. “May I ask who you are and what the hell you’re doing at my fire scene?”

  * * *

  Dang, dang, dang, dang.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t have an alibi, a practiced reason for being here. But as a Trail Hiker it would have been better if she hadn’t been tagged by the chief of SVFD, for God’s sake.

  “I’m Abi. Working under contract to SVPD to support the apprehension of this arsonist.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The studly fire chief didn’t buy it. She could tell from the way his hands, raised to show her his harmlessness, had lowered and were fisted on his hips. His brows, even and straight across his eyes. Brilliant, cornflower-blue eyes not unlike the sky above them appeared anything but soft and summery. More like a blast of arctic wind over glacial ice.

  Sighing, she pulled out her ID. “Here. Check it yourself.”

  He reached for the card and their fingers touched. The immediate sexual awareness caught her off guard. Sure, Fire Chief Keith Paruso was an attractive male and obviously in outstanding shape, but she worked with fit—even hot—men on a daily basis. Not one had ever made her feel so instantly turned on, been so quick to remind her that she was a woman underneath all the body armor and cargo pants.

  “It says you’re a free agent, Abigail.”

  “I am. I told you, I’m a contractor. And it’s Abi.” No one called her Abigail. Except Dad, when she was a kid, and she’d left home almost fifteen years ago. And even he called her Abi these days.

  “I didn’t realize SVPD employed contractors, especially ones as prepared as you are, Abigail.”

  He was clearly who he said he was and, as she looked past him, she saw the fire trucks, the firefighters hosing down the house.

  “I don’t know many fire chiefs who’d leave a fire to run after a suspect. Where I’m from, you leave that to law enforcement. Unless you have a problem with SVPD? Don’t you trust them?”

  His eyes narrowed and she thought he was going to either throw her ID on the ground, spit at her or turn and leave. He looked pretty pissed off.

  Instead he laughed. A lot. Not a snort or chuckle, but a warm, rich sound that seemed to roll over and around her, squeezing her tight, cutting off her breath. If he hadn’t already tur
ned her on, this would have done it.

  “I’ve got a job to do, Chief Paruso.” She held her hand out to retrieve her ID. He ignored it.

  “The ‘job’ you have is a case I’ve been working intensely on, along with SVPD, for over three months, and it’s affected my job for over a year. A case that could have resulted in us catching the bad guy. Since your weapon was drawn and you were at least a quarter of a mile ahead of me, I’m thinking that you had a decent chance to catch the loser. Instead, we’re here exchanging pleasantries while the dirt bag’s free to light up his next target. So forgive me, Abigail, if I’m not too impressed with how you do your job.”

  * * *

  How the hell had SVPD Chief Colt Todd found this one? And why hadn’t he been informed that someone else was working this case? Keith made a mental note to see how much Rio knew about Ms. Abigail Redland. Thank God he knew Rio well enough to ask him, since Rio and Keith’s sister Kayla were a couple. He was supposed to meet them for dinner tonight. Soon enough.

  “I’m not being paid to impress you, Chief Paruso.” Her eyes glinted with the morning sun and her chest moved with the deep breaths she drew—was she trying to calm down? Was he making her angry, too? Not that he was looking at her chest. Although...

  “You have leaves on your, um, Kevlar.”

  She looked down and brushed off the dried oak leaves that were ground into her vest. Her hands were small but capable, and he imagined they’d be the perfect size to fit around his—no. He was not going there, not while this investigation was open, not with some pseudo-law-enforcement agent who probably didn’t know the difference between arson and a bonfire.

  “Interesting that you have such keen observation skills, Chief Paruso. I’m curious as to why your talents haven’t caught this criminal yet.”

  Anger dowsed the searing line of awareness between them, his focus no longer on his crotch but her snide comment. “How I run my investigation is none of your goddamned business, whether you’re working for SVPD or the CIA. In case you missed it, I’m the chief of the fire department. In reality, it’s law enforcement’s job to get the criminal, as you pointed out.” Who the hell did she think she was?

 

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