by Jodie Bailey
Nothing he wanted to discuss. He stood and turned to the stranger at Travis’s side. “Sergeant First Class Lucas Murphy.”
“Major Randall Draper.” The agent dipped a chin. “Murphy. You get a lot of flak for that name?”
Too much. “Private Murphy’s Law” was a well-known comic strip about army life, and Murphy’s Laws of Combat had been around forever. While both were spot-on, Lucas had grown tired of the comparison. He faked a smile and hoped it looked real. “More than I ever wanted.”
The major grinned, then dropped the humor just as fast. “It’s time we filled you in on what’s going on in the battalion.”
Lucas aimed a finger at a nearby chair and sank into his own. Right now was the time to shut the lid on his personal life box and open the professional one. Whatever was happening, the look on the major’s face said it was serious. Lucas braced himself.
Draper wasted no time, speaking before he’d even settled into the chair. He swept a hand over his dark hair. “Over the years, you’ve probably heard how we’ve had some issues with missing antiquities in Iraq. Civilians, contractors, even a few of our guys grabbing art and small artifacts as souvenirs or to sell off. We started checking equipment coming back, caught a few guys bringing things in rucksacks and Conex containers, but it’s been mostly small stuff, souvenirs, innocent pilfering. Illegal, yes, but nothing on the level of a smuggling ring.”
“Something escalated?” Lucas glanced at Travis, who sat stone-faced, probably hearing this for the second time. “What’s this got to do with our guys?”
“Some of the items have shown up on the black market, been advertised on the dark web. We picked up chatter from your area of operations and traced it to some computers on your forward operating base. Some pretty valuable items were brokered when you guys were deployed, and some had multiple buyers for the same item. There’s a lot we’re still deciphering, but someone in this battalion was the deliveryman. The items weren’t large—some vases, a few sculptures—but they have value and are highly collectible. They were never delivered, and we believe they’re in the States somewhere. We’re interested in the specialist who was killed on guard duty near the end of the tour.”
Lucas schooled his reaction, calling on every trick he’d ever devised to keep his face impassive. Kristin’s brother. Kristin...whom he had seen handing off a package to another soldier.
His gut clenched like he’d run a twenty-miler without hydrating first. No. Please, God. Please let this all be a huge misunderstanding.
Draper nodded, unaware of the war going on inside Lucas, but it was Travis who spoke. “They’re not prepared to say Coleman was involved, but his death was unusual.”
“How?” Lucas’s voice was tight, a rubber band ready to snap.
Travis noticed, but he only arched an eyebrow.
Draper stared at something outside the window. “Blood spatter at the scene indicated he was shot by someone inside the forward operating base.”
“And we’re just hearing this now?” There was no reason to hide the anger. CID knew the shooting was from inside their FOB and no one had told them there might be danger?
“Active investigation.”
Lucas slammed his palm on the desk, but a quick cough from Travis stopped him from unleashing on a ranking officer. Major Draper was merely the messenger. There was no reason to invite trouble by letting his anger loose now. His mind raced. Kristin’s brother might have been murdered by one of their own, and she might be involved. This had to be a nightmare. “You think Coleman was involved and it got him killed?”
“It’s a distinct possibility.” Major Draper hardly batted an eye. “Since he was in your platoon for a short time before he went to Sergeant Heath’s platoon, we wanted anything you might remember. Anything would be helpful.”
“I can’t think of much,” Travis said. “Coleman wasn’t fun, but nothing said he was doing anything like you’re suggesting.”
Lucas wrestled his anger into place and recounted what he could remember, with Travis furnishing additional details. “Honestly? Other than being a slacker, nothing stood out about Coleman.” He kept his eyes off the computer screen. Nothing stood out until now.
Travis sat forward, resting a hand on the edge of Lucas’s desk. “What are you not saying?” He’d always been able to read Lucas, ever since the first day they’d met at Ranger School. Being stationed together at Bragg had contributed to a company that worked well because the platoon sergeants knew each other, respected each other and could tell what the other was thinking.
Lucas addressed Travis. “It’s Kristin.”
“What about her?”
“Kristin James?” Major Draper sat straighter. “You know her?”
“She’s my neighbor.” Lucas turned the computer screen toward Travis. “She’s Coleman’s sister.”
“You didn’t know?” Travis turned from the screen to Lucas.
“Didn’t even know she had a brother until today.” His gut dropped clear to his boots. He didn’t want to say what he had to say next. “She was here earlier.”
Draper’s eyes narrowed. “To see you?”
Lucas ground his teeth together, unsure what to say. If Kristin was innocent, she didn’t need Lucas casting suspicion on her. If she was guilty...
No. He was certain she was innocent. She had to be.
“Who was she here to see, Sergeant?”
“Specialist Lacey.” Lucas braced, waiting to see if Draper reacted to the name.
Draper didn’t flinch as he keyed something into his phone. “Know why?” He didn’t look up, just kept his thumb poised and ready to type.
Lucas stood, trying to get on level ground with the other man. What he was about to say looked bad. Really bad. “Dropping off a package.” He held out a hand as the other men’s heads lifted. “Something her brother mailed to her for Lacey. I’m certain—”
“Certain what, Sergeant?” Draper lowered his phone. “Certain she can’t be a criminal because you’re friends?”
“With all due respect, I think questioning Sergeant Murphy is pointless, sir.” Travis stood and stared down at the major, coming awfully close to being insubordinate. “He’s a good judge of character. They know each other well.”
Lucas tried not to flinch. That made everything sound so...trashy.
Draper was clearly thinking the same thing. He stood and slipped his phone into his pocket, pinning Lucas with a hard glare. “Sergeant, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you to keep your mouth shut around this girl. In fact, I’m pretty sure we don’t need to talk about having contact with her at all.”
Lucas stiffened. Surely the major wasn’t about to tell him to cut ties. He couldn’t. What if CID was right and her brother was involved in something out-of-bounds? “Sir, Kristin James was attacked yesterday. Kyle Coleman might be the reason, and someone needs to watch out for her.”
Travis interrupted, probably trying to defuse the tension flaring in the room. “Sir, Murphy is no fool. He also has Kristin James’s trust.”
Well, that was debatable.
Travis fired a pained look at Lucas, like he knew he might be about to cross a line. “Let him listen in.”
Had his friend volunteered him to spy on Kristin? Surely not.
Draper eyed Travis, ignoring Lucas. “He can stay close for now, but he’d better be careful. I need to talk to the commander about all of this.” He shot Lucas a loaded look and stalked out, clearly expecting Travis to follow.
Travis hesitated. “I’m sorry, man. It was the fastest way I could think of to keep him from ordering you away from her. Somebody’s got to have Kristin’s back, and her brother’s not here to do it.” He was gone before Lucas could respond.
Lucas dug his knuckles into his desk. He ought to be grateful Travis had buffered the conversa
tion, but the whole day grated. Too many people in his business, bossing him around.
And Kristin lying to him.
His phone vibrated, and frustration drove him to jerk it from the desk. “Murphy.” He shot venom into the greeting, hoping whoever was calling would state their business quickly. If the lunch break wasn’t over, he’d change into his PTs and run a ten-miler with a fifty-pound ruck. Still wouldn’t blow enough steam.
“Lucas?” Kristin’s voice bled through the phone, weighted with something he couldn’t measure.
He dropped into his chair and blew out a deep breath laced with exasperation. This was the definition of thin ice. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine, but...” She exhaled loudly. “My car’s missing.”
SIX
Oh, how Kristin hated having to call Lucas, but she’d had no choice. She needed someone to run interference with the police, but not in a million years would she tell Casey there had been more mischief at her house. The woman would move into the spare bedroom, and the last thing Kristin needed was an overprotective best friend disrupting her solitude.
She leaned against the window by the front door and watched as Lucas chatted with a police officer on the sidewalk. Rarely did she see him in uniform, occasionally catching glimpses as he went back and forth to work. The close view, his shoulders strong and his stance speaking authority, was more than the fragile distance she held between them could handle.
Maybe she should have called Casey. After all, Casey might have threatened to move in, but that was all she could threaten.
Lucas, with his superhero attitude and all-American army poster-boy self, was a bigger threat.
She was an idiot.
And she was supposed to be angry with him. After she’d told the alarm company not to notify the police, Lucas had made the call.
True to what she believed, the justice system did what it could, but extra patrols had failed to do anything. When the call from the alarm company came, her first assumption was she’d race home to find her house trashed. But no, whoever had breached the back door had abandoned the house when the alarm went off and gone for the easier take...the classic car housed in the detached garage behind the house.
When Kyle was killed, he’d left Kristin the deep blue ’68 Camaro he’d poured most of his money into restoring. After he’d been stationed at Bragg not long before he deployed, he’d started coming around. For the first time since their mother died, he’d been interested in having a sister. Well, he’d hung around her house a bit, helped her finish up some remodeling and stored his car in her garage, usually letting Lacey tag along to do some work, too.
The nights he’d spent working under the hood of that thing held special memories, especially the times when he came alone. No, they’d never talked about their personal lives, never discussed their dad’s violence or their mother’s death, but they’d shared the same space. Even though it was awkward, that time left Kristin craving a deeper connection with her brother. His car would always represent the healing left unfinished when he died.
When Kristin learned he’d left the car to her, she’d lost her usual iron grip on her emotions, had sat in the front seat for hours, crying for him, for what had never been, for what never would be.
Now his Camaro was gone, the loss a raw wound, like losing Kyle all over again.
And what had she done while her grief was already tearing her in two?
She stared out her living room window at the two men out front, the tall soldier and the equally tall police officer, finishing the report on her missing vehicle.
Yep. What had she done in her fragile state? Called the one man who managed to get inside her head. Turning from the window, she forced herself into the kitchen to take a moment alone before Lucas started asking questions.
She’d grabbed some water when the front door opened and Lucas came in like he belonged, shoving his maroon airborne beret into his leg pocket. “You can stop hiding. The police are gone.”
“You make me sound like a fugitive.” Kristin stopped at the door of the dining room. In that uniform, Lucas had a way of making the house seem smaller, like his presence filled every corner.
She hated it.
Taking a sip of water to ice her words while she contemplated what to say next, she watched him as he double-checked the locks on her windows, patrolling the room like his duty was to make sure she was safe.
Kristin chewed the inside of her lip, determined not to notice the intensity that seemed to pour off him. She’d called him this one time. It wouldn’t happen again. “I have to meet a client in half an hour. Thanks for being the go-between this afternoon.”
“Where are you meeting this client?” He stopped staring at the window and met her eyes for the first time since he’d arrived an hour ago. His tone held an edge too sharp for her to grasp.
Kristin’s fingers tightened around the water glass. “Two streets over.”
“New client or established client?”
Why did this have to turn into a standoff? “New.”
“And you’re going alone?”
When she nodded, Lucas barked a harsh laugh that bounced off the walls, a sound she’d never heard before. “You don’t get it, do you?”
Was he implying she was stupid? Drawing her head back, Kristin sloshed water on her hand, but she ignored the chill. “Don’t get what?”
“You’re in danger.” He took two steps toward her, then stopped like he’d thought twice about getting closer.
He’d better think twice. Reflexes might make her fight. She was pretty sure she could take him out with one swift kick to the chest.
Her gaze drifted to the broad expanse beneath his uniform. Okay, maybe not. “What are you so touchy about, anyway?”
“Listen to me.” He downshifted from anger to something that sounded like Animal Control talking down a rabid wolf. “Whatever is going on, this guy doesn’t play. He came after you in a public park. I caught somebody in your yard. And now your car’s stolen in the middle of the day? That’s brazen. Kris, I—”
“Kristin.” This was the second time she’d had to correct him. Nobody called her Kris except Casey. The sound of it in a male timbre usually crawled down her spine like a snake. But when Lucas said it...
When Lucas said it, the nickname sounded protected and warm, and that scared her even worse.
“Kristin.” He stalked to the front window. “Talk to me. What is so special about that car? This isn’t random. It can’t be.” He gripped the side of the window frame. “You’re being targeted. Why?”
It took a second for the words to penetrate, but when they did, they smacked with all the force of the guy who’d tried to tackle her on the trail. This was more than a few strung-together acts. It was stalking, hunting prey. The reality drove home for the first time. She reached blindly for the table, setting the water on it before grabbing the back of a chair. Few things scared her. But someone stalking her the way her father had stalked her mother? Methodically, purposefully... That was the one thing that could knock her legs right out from under her.
Lucas was at her side in an instant. He pulled out the chair and took her by the elbow, easing her into it.
She didn’t even have the strength to fight him for treating her like some kind of swooning debutante. She stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought past memories coated in her mother’s blood.
* * *
The sudden show of weakness drove Lucas’s emotions into high gear. He wanted to shield Kristin, to pull her against him and tell her he had this. But he couldn’t. There was little he could do until he knew for certain she wasn’t knee-deep in whatever had gotten her brother killed. Sure, he was supposed to be watching her, but being a go-between with the police had probably already crossed a line.
He pulled o
ut a chair around the corner of the table, out of reach. If he was close enough to touch her, he would.
She finally looked at him. “Why is somebody coming at me?”
“That’s what we have to figure out.” He waited for her to buck at the we, watching for any sign she was hiding something, that she knew more than she had let on.
Instead, her shoulders slumped and she braced her elbows on the dark wood table. She dropped her head into her hands to knead her temples with her thumbs. “I don’t know. I keep running things through my head and can’t figure out a reason somebody would do this.”
She seemed so certain of her own innocence, so confused by everything going on. Surely this wasn’t an act. If it was, the woman deserved an award. “Tell me about the car. Why would someone take it?” He hadn’t even known the classic was stored in her garage. He’d never seen her drive it. The deeper they got into this day, the more he realized how little he knew about the woman sitting across from him.
Kristin shrugged and toyed with her water glass, the condensation forming interlocking rings on the table. “It’s a ’68 Camaro. Meticulously restored. Any fanboy would come after it, and I’m going to guess it’s worth some money.”
“Who’d you buy it from? Maybe—”
“It was my brother’s.”
Her brother’s. Things were starting to makes sense, even though Lucas didn’t want them to. He dug his fingers into his thigh, picturing the cold set of Major Draper’s jaw when he’d found out Lucas knew Kristin. Well, the man had implied Lucas could watch out for her. Maybe he could find out the truth about how much she knew.
Questioning her character clawed at him. Nothing good could come out of this. Even if she wasn’t involved, proving her brother’s guilt would bury her in debris when her family crumbled.
But it had to be done, and he was the only man who could do it. “Let’s walk through this.” Lucas laced his fingers together on the tabletop. “Someone comes after you, then your brother’s car disappears. Do you think that’s coincidence?”
