by Geri Krotow
Can two officers of the law outrun danger...and love?
A Silver Valley P.D. Romance
When police psychologist Annie Fiero stumbles across a case of abuse in her hometown, she takes the assignment. In the process, she is reunited with her childhood friend Josh Avery, who is all grown up and a lethally handsome detective. But as Josh and Annie hunt down a vicious criminal, they must also resist deadly desire...
Please, please say you want to kiss me. Where the hell was all of this coming from?
“You okay?”
“I was laughing at my thoughts. I was thinking about how we know each other, well, knew one another...before.”
“Before prom night?” It was Josh’s turn to laugh. “We were the best of friends, weren’t we?”
“Until we weren’t.”
“So you’re still single.”
“We already went over this.”
“I want to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” He stared at her, his expression neutral, but his eyes, his eyes made Annie want to close the distance and kiss him for the umpteenth time since she’d first seen him again in the police station. So she did.
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We hope you enjoy the Silver Valley P.D. miniseries.
* * *
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Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Silver Valley with Reunion Under Fire! Our Russian Organized Crime miniseries continues with NYPD psychiatrist Annie Fiero and SVPD officer Joshua Avery. Upon return to Silver Valley, Annie quickly finds herself drawn into the life of a woman she suspects is being abused by her husband—and Annie’s correct. The victim is married to an ROC operative, which pairs Annie with Josh to save this woman’s life.
I found writing about domestic violence challenging, and I wanted to keep the emotions surrounding it real while bringing you a happier ending than many victims experience. Add in the ongoing human-trafficking subject matter, and this story had the potential to get too dark and heavy. But Annie’s and Joshua’s respect and eventual love for one another encouraged me to keep writing, and to uncover the latest scheme the ROC is hatching in their attempt to take over Silver Valley. My hope is that you find respite in Silver Valley as you join Annie and Joshua on their journey.
Please don’t miss any of the Silver Valley P.D. stories. Sign up for my newsletter at gerikrotow.com/contact/ or Facebook.com/gerikrotow.
Happy reading!
Peace,
Geri
REUNION UNDER FIRE
Geri Krotow
Former naval intelligence officer and US Naval Academy graduate Geri Krotow draws inspiration from the global situations she’s experienced. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can email her via her website and blog, gerikrotow.com.
Books by Geri Krotow
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Silver Valley P.D.
Her Christmas Protector
Wedding Takedown
Her Secret Christmas Agent
Secret Agent Under Fire
The Fugitive’s Secret Child
Reunion Under Fire
The Coltons of Shadow Creek
The Billionaire’s Colton Threat
Harlequin Superromance
What Family Means
Sasha’s Dad
Whidbey Island
Navy Rules
Navy Orders
Navy Rescue
Navy Christmas
Navy Justice
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For Ellen—you are the strongest woman I know. I couldn’t be more proud.
Special thanks to: Amy Whitworth for insight on volunteer matters; Dick Hammon for key pointers about police procedure; and to Alex Otteson and Family.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Excerpt from Navy SEAL Cop by Cindy Dees
Chapter 1
Annie Fiero’s vision blurred as she tried to make sense of her grandmother Ezzie’s bookkeeping. She stretched in the comfy leather swivel chair and took a long sip of her tea. Annie didn’t use spreadsheets in her job at the New York Police Department, but back in her hometown of Silver Valley, Pennsylvania, she was struggling. She was a police psychologist, not an accountant or small-business owner. Except, for the next three months, she was the manager of Silver Threads Yarn Shop. Since Grandma Ezzie had a minor stroke and had flown to Florida to be nurtured by Annie’s parents, Annie’s sabbatical had appeared as the perfect solution to Annie’s mom. Annie had never been able to say no to her mother.
Annie looked around the historical room and couldn’t stop a grin. Grandma Ezzie’s yarn shop sat in what had once been the library of a grand Victorian home. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were positioned against the circular wall, the original sliding ladder intact. Afraid of destroying the antique wood, they used modern stepladders now for insurance purposes. Hanks of hand-dyed wool hung over the rungs, drawing the customer’s eyes to the vast inventory. Instead of leather-bound books, the library shelves were chock-full of yarn. A rainbow of colors in various fibers surrounded Annie as she sat behind the service counter. It was a far cry from the noisy din of the NYPD offices and the trauma that had made her decision to return to Silver Valley an easy one.
“I’m so glad you’ve come home, finally! Your grandmother must be ecstatic.” Ginny Vanderbruck, Grandma Ezzie’s lifelong friend and one of the shop’s most frequent flyers, glowed with small-town wonder. As if their town cornered the market on a happy life.
Annie looked up from the shop’s business records to watch Ginny place three hanks of the expensive cashmere blend on the counter.
“My grandmother’s happy I’m here to help, but it’s only temporary.” Annie didn’t want anyone to think she’d stay away from New York City longer than she had to. She might be a Silver Valley native, but she was a city person through and through, happily so. Except she hadn’t been feeling the love for city living lately, had she? And since Rick’s death, along with his wife’s, she’d been flat-out miserable.
An immediate cascade of horrible memories associated with the reason she was on sabbatical assaulted her. She gripped the service counter and fought the urge to run from the shop. Run, run, run. But it wouldn’t bring her former client—one of her best friends and oldest work colleagues—back to life. Wouldn’t erase the fact that she’d failed at what NYPD had trusted her to do: keep officers safe.
“Annie, are you okay?” Ginny’s face creased with concern and reminded Annie why she’d been eager to take a longer break than normal from her job. She needed to be in a familiar place.
“I’m good, thanks. I guess I’m getting used to the idea of being back in Silver Valley for the next three months, is all.”
Ginny waved a hand at her. “You made the right decision to come back
and help out your grandmother. You know all of her customers are grateful you’ve kept the best yarn shop in the state open for us.” Ginny’s smile turned contemplative. “You do know that your old flame is still single, don’t you?”
And just like that, Annie remembered why she’d stayed in the city. She ignored the pang that poked her heart at Ginny’s assumption that she was single by proxy and not choice. “Ms. Vanderbruck, high school was a long time ago for me.”
“You’re still so young, dear. Do you have someone special in New York, though, is that it?” The way Ginny said “someone” made Annie wonder if the woman thought a passport was needed to travel to Manhattan.
“Oh, no. I’m enjoying my single life.” Liar. Big-time liar. “Looks like you’re having some luck finding the fiber you wanted. What have you decided on for your cardigan pattern?” Ginny had shown Annie a quite contemporary photo from a recent knitting magazine when she’d entered the shop. A tiny tug of excitement surprised Annie. She hadn’t picked up knitting needles since she’d worked for Grandma Ezzie during college summers. When she’d avoided the high school “flame” Ginny pointedly mentioned.
“Do you like this shade?” Ginny brought her back from the edge of another awful flashback. Annie eyed the pile of purple fiber, trying not to mentally add the sale before it was a done deal. She was here to help, to keep things moving, not to beat any sales records.
“I do. It’s lovely next to your skin.”
“I really shouldn’t spend the money this month.”
“Grandma Ezzie always preaches that if you’re going to hold yarn in your hands for an entire project, make it the best you can afford.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ll take it. And I may be back to get enough for a second one if I like this pattern.” Ginny pulled out her credit card.
“You’ve picked the exact same shade as your hair.” Annie began to ring up the order, wondering for the millionth time how her mother had convinced her to use her sabbatical from NYPD in sleepy Silver Valley, no less: the hometown she’d fled and vowed to never return to, save for family visits, over twelve years ago.
It’s for Grandma Ezzie.
“Isn’t it fab?” Ginny ran her fingers through her short violet hair, the ends tipped with fuchsia. “Who says my teenage granddaughters should have all the fun?”
“Not I.” Annie began to wind the hanks on the swift that stood next to the counter, quickly producing neat cakes of yarn. “I need to thank you for agreeing to run the knit and chat tonight. I’ll be here, but this way you’re giving me the freedom to ring up orders. I really don’t have a handle on everything yet.” As evidenced by her hot-and-cold emotions over her return to her hometown.
“No problem! And give me a break—like you said, you’re a city girl now. There’s nothing you can’t handle.” Ginny’s sincerity slayed her.
“I’m hardly equipped to run a business. Different brain cells than working at NYPD.” Annie’s grandmother had bragged to all of her customers about her one granddaughter’s “big city” job, so she wasn’t telling Ginny anything she didn’t already know.
“We’re all glad you agreed to help Ezzie because this shop is important to a lot of us in Silver Valley. It gives us a reason to get out of the house. Speaking of which, I’m going to run out to the grocery store to pick up a birthday cake for Lydia, with whipped cream frosting and strawberry filling. She’s seventy-five tomorrow.” Annie knew that Lydia was one of the dozen or so women who religiously attended knit and chat sessions.
Annie couldn’t help but notice the far cry running a yarn shop was from the life-and-death atmosphere of NYPD.
As they planned for the weekly Friday night gathering, a new customer came in. Petite, blonde and made up like a movie star, with perfect makeup, designer clothing that hung perfectly where her two-hundred-dollar jeans weren’t hugging her tiny frame. A large, leather designer bag that complemented the heeled sandals finished the woman’s ensemble. Annie couldn’t help but take notice of her. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other women in Silver Valley who dressed with high fashion in mind, but it wasn’t her outward appearance that pinged Annie’s internal radar. It was how she held herself as she slowly walked to the counter. The blonde’s eyes darted from Ginny to Annie and back again, her mannerisms a little jerky. Something had her wound tighter than a cheap skein of acrylic yarn.
Ginny caught her staring past her shoulder and turned around. “Oh, hi, Kit! Are you going to stay for knit and chat?”
The woman shook her head like a shy child. “No. Maybe. I thought about it. I don’t know. I should go home earlier than I did last week. I’m almost done with my shawl.”
Ginny waved her hand at her, much as she had done with Annie. “Oh, no, missy. You’re having fun, and that’s all there is to it.” Ginny turned back to Annie, her eyes wide. “Kit’s new to our group, and I told her we need fresh blood.”
“Where is Ezzie?” Kit spoke with a slight accent, which Annie would bet was Russian. Annie had studied it in college and worked with a lot of Russian-speaking cops. Kit’s pronunciation was distinctly Russian, maybe Ukrainian. The pale woman under the heavy makeup looked lost, as if she’d never been in the store before. Her obvious wariness combined with the way Ginny treated her flipped Annie’s internal alarm bells, and her training shifted into full alert.
“Hi, Kit. I’m Annie, Ezzie’s granddaughter. She’s had a mild stroke and is taking a break from the shop for a bit.” She stepped from around the counter and held out her hand.
Kit took it, but instead of the timid grip Annie expected, it was a strong, almost painful clench. As if Annie were her lifeline. Kit’s motions were more like those of a frail octogenarian instead of a young woman Annie estimated was in her twenties.
“I need to talk to your grandmother. I’m sorry she’s sick.” Kit’s eyes blazed. “Is she in the hospital? Will she come back soon?”
Annie looked into the woman’s stunning ice-blue gaze and saw fear, trepidation and concern for Ezzie. Something else, too. Anxiety that didn’t have a name, the result of living with a constant threat to your life. Annie had seen enough of it in victims and police officers. She knew how stress affected first responders over the years, and it was even worse for civilians. Kit displayed outward symptoms of a trauma survivor.
Keep her calm, show her she can trust you.
“Grandma Ezzie’s fine, really. My parents insisted she go to their place in Florida for a few months while she does some rehab and relaxes. Since my grandfather died, she hasn’t given herself a break from the business, and my parents knew she wouldn’t do an honest rehab if she stayed here.”
“I understand.” Kit said it as if she’d been betrayed. Annie made a mental note to ask her grandmother about Kit. Annie was certain there was more to the woman than knitting a shawl.
“Can I help you pick out some yarn today? A pattern?”
“You can trust her, Kit. Annie’s from New York City and...” Ginny trailed off at the “shut the heck up!” look Annie threw her. She instinctively didn’t want Kit to know she was in law enforcement. Not yet. She wanted this woman to trust her first.
“New York?” Kit’s brow wrinkled. While her eyes seemed wise and old, her skin was positively translucent. Looking at Kit’s hands, Annie thought her first assessment was correct and that Kit was quite young. Early twenties at the most.
“I grew up here, went to Silver Valley High, then left for college. How about you, Kit? Have you been in Silver Valley long?”
“Yes. Well, for the last five or six years I’ve lived here, anyway. Are you the granddaughter Ezzie said works for the police?”
Dang Grandma Ezzie and her bragging. “I am. But I’m not a cop. I’m support staff.”
“Oh.” Kit nodded, looking anywhere but at Annie. “This new yarn is beautiful!” She grabbed a hank of alpaca variegated and squeezed it, the
universal sign of a rabid fiber freak. Annie smiled at the gesture, then froze as she noticed muted purple spots on Kit’s upper neck and jaw. Bruises covered with the carefully applied makeup she’d noticed earlier. Her stomach clenched, and she consciously forced herself to remain calm and not reveal what she’d seen. It’d be too easy to scare Kit away, and she’d never be able to help her. Annie couldn’t let another person who needed help get away.
It’s not all about what happened in New York with Rick. Although after losing her dear colleague to suicide, after he murdered his wife, would it ever not be about New York?
Letting out a slow breath, she leaned against the counter. “Yes, that’s a lovely blend, isn’t it? I have to say that my grandmother only picks the best for her customers. I happen to knit, too, and even if this wasn’t my grandmother’s shop, it’d still be my favorite shop in town. It’s better than any I’ve ever found in the city.” There were one or two yarn shops in New York City that she frequented, but none gave her the sense of being at home and safe as Grandma Ezzie’s.
Kit looked around. “Yes, I’d like to make a new shawl. Ezzie said some new alpaca linen blend was shipping in, too. Is it here?”
“Absolutely. It’s been our best seller this week.” Annie led her to the antique washstand that had the new hanks splayed out in a rainbow of colors. “With the heat, everyone wants to knit lace.”
Kit ran her fingertips lightly over the fiber, then picked up a hank and clasped it before rubbing it between her fingers. Annie realized that she missed being around other knitters like this. Even though she hadn’t pursued Ezzie’s passion for fiber as a career, she still relied on knitting to keep her grounded at the end of long, hard days working at NYPD. Days she cherished, but needed space from, for the time being. Work she’d taken a three-month sabbatical from in order to help Grandma Ezzie. And to escape the media surrounding the murder-suicide of one of NYPD’s finest, an officer who’d come to the end of his coping skills while dealing with his opioid addiction. Rick had been Annie’s friend and client, and she’d failed to save him or the young wife he’d taken along with him. She wondered if the raw wound in her heart would ever heal.
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