by Regan Black
What was one more embarrassing moment piled onto the current heap?
Derek was a camping buddy. He was a friend who’d been happy to share great benefits when it suited them both. No matter how kind he’d been, he was here because of his brother’s injury. She still hadn’t told him everything and she shouldn’t—couldn’t—take advantage of his decent nature.
It was her responsibility as an adult to deal with the highs and lows in her life with equal competence.
With fresh resolve, she stripped out of the clothes she’d slept in and changed into her running gear, zipping up a hoodie over her sports bra and tank. Tying her shoes, she bounced a little, anticipating the sweet, empowering rush of endorphins. The positive effect would be compounded by a healthy display of independence that would put her back on proper footing with Derek.
Determined, she practiced a smile in the mirror before she went out to the kitchen. An empty mug sat beside the coffee brewer with a note:
Hardware store called. Went to pick up the window. Back soon.—Derek.
She went to the front window and noticed his car was gone. He shouldn’t be tackling her repairs; he should be with his brother. This wasn’t the sort of hospitality vibe her mother would encourage. This surely qualified her for worst hostess in history.
Her gaze drifted to the dark sedan across the street. Hank’s watchful team remained in place, ready to leap into action. Probably a good idea to let them know she was heading out for a run. Looping her earbuds around her neck, she stepped outside, locking the front door before she crossed the street.
A man behind the steering wheel with a youthful smile rolled down his window. “Good morning, Major Riley.”
“Good morning,” she replied, smiling at the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. “You guys okay out here?”
“We’re fine.” They both wore jeans and khaki polo shirts with a unit insignia on the breast pocket. She assumed the windbreakers that would hide their sidearms had been tossed aside in favor of comfort within the car. “Everything okay?”
“Absolutely. I’m headed for a run.”
The driver frowned. “One of us should follow you. Give us a second.”
She hadn’t considered how her run would impact them. Uncertain, she debated going back inside for a long yoga session. Except she’d wanted to enjoy this gorgeous morning. “I’m not leaving the neighborhood,” she said. “I can give you my route.”
The man in the passenger seat aimed a thumb at the driver. “Tyler will follow you in the car and I’ll patrol the block while you’re gone.”
“That’s not very subtle,” she said.
“Ma’am, this particular surveillance post isn’t about subtle,” Tyler said. “Our presence is meant to be a visible deterrent.”
“Right.” They were here to prevent a vengeful madman from wrecking her life. “Thanks.”
Anxiety crept along the back of her neck. Was he watching her right now? If she didn’t get moving, the only place she’d be running would be back inside. That was unacceptable. Rileys didn’t hide from trouble in any form. “Would it be easier to have someone jog with me?” Being followed by a car would be weird.
“If you’re willing to wait, we can have someone here within the hour.”
Maybe she should wait for Derek. Did he enjoy running? She really should know that. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she had to follow through or she’d be a mess the rest of the day. Today would not be another emotional roller coaster. The first step was acting confidently. “Let’s try your way today.”
“All right,” Tyler said. “Lead on.”
She started down the street, the car engine a quiet rumble behind her. Weird. Turning up the volume on her earbuds, she matched her pace to the song on her playlist. None of her neighbors had asked about the surveillance team or the vandalism. If there had been an uptick in petty crimes in the area, they probably appreciated the extra eyes on the street.
Following her favorite route and the music cues on her playlist, Grace Ann upped her pace for a sprinting interval. She intended to push herself until the run consumed her, body and mind, sweating out the stress, embarrassment and this persistent longing for a man who wouldn’t stay in the fling column.
Just having Derek within reach was too much temptation. Add in his willingness to let her unload and lean on him when she felt weak, and that cast a new light on their casual dynamic. The course of their relationship should have been simple. That sounded terribly cold and calculating, but the setup had been rooted in practicality and safety for both of them.
Her pace slowed with the change of song. Not once had she imagined him in her home, but he fit. Well enough that she wanted him to stay. A day or a week, maybe longer. Was changing what had worked worth the risk?
The song for her next sprint came on and she went after it. The cool morning air flooded her lungs; her quads burned. She felt alive, empowered. Strong. This was living. She found that sweet spot, where her brain convinced her body she could run forever. This was why she’d come out, to remember who she was. She had the fortitude to wait out the ridiculous, unfounded investigation. She had the courage to outlast the jerk trying to punish her dad. And she could definitely overcome the ghosts of all the small broken bodies she’d known by name.
Reaching the landscaped flower beds that marked her neighborhood’s main entrance, she turned back, keeping her promise to the protective detail. She’d expected to see Tyler in the car behind her but the street was empty. Unease chilled her warmed muscles and prickled under the healthy sweat she’d worked up.
Checking her phone, she hadn’t missed any messages from the surveillance team. What happened? Concerned, she sprinted flat out, retracing her route. So much for endorphins defeating anxiety. With a passing scan at the first intersection, she rushed across the open space. A loud squeal behind her cut through the playlist pumping in her ears. The sharp odor of hot brakes and burning rubber stung the fresh air. She lunged away from the threat a half step too late.
Her surroundings blurred as something hit her leg and tossed her several feet into the nearest lawn. The breath knocked from her lungs, she floundered. Just as she gained her feet, her knee buckled and she went down again. She caught sight of a car in the road, tires smoking as it backed up. The front bumper scraped along with a fading shriek as the driver left the scene, speeding away.
Dazed, she tried to make sense of what little she’d seen, of what was left. She guessed the driver must have hit the back end of a parked car—the car that was currently angled up on the sidewalk where she’d been a moment ago.
She flopped back onto the soft lawn and worked to catch her breath, let her heart settle. Everything had gone from peaceful to terrifying to peaceful again too quickly. Her blood pounded in her ears, adrenaline sizzled and snapped through her system, while the sunlight bathed her face.
Neither fight nor flight instinct prevailed. She was stunned, flat on her back. In the strange and abrupt quiet, she realized she had lost her earbuds in the spill. She rolled to her hands and knees, fought off the urge to vomit, and spotting the earbuds, she crawled over to pick them up. Her cell phone, in a case on her arm, was a useless paperweight now, the case no match for this tumble.
Who would she call, anyway? There was no danger to be seen. Working her way through a physical self-assessment, she stretched out on the lawn again and stared up at the sky. The chase car would be here soon. Once her heart rate slowed, she’d try sitting up. If the world stayed steady at that point, she might consider standing, though she was in no real hurry. For the first time she was grateful she didn’t have anywhere to be.
The danger had come and gone in little more than the blink of an eye. The world was apparently putting her through an adrenaline endurance test. She used the resulting burst of anger to try to sit up. The world took a slow spin and she dropped her head to her u
praised knees, waiting it out. Too soon, she realized, and stretched out one more time.
* * *
She’d live. That should give the authorities plenty to brood over. After all, if it had been an outright murder attempt, why wouldn’t the driver have waited until the target had jogged into the street?
He regretted he couldn’t go back and watch the chaotic response in person. The scene and speculation would be amusing. He would settle for listening to the results through the bugs he’d planted and taking updates from those he’d hired to watch her. He couldn’t have asked for better actionable intel than what he’d used to interrupt her morning run.
The Army Criminal Investigation Division would be scrambling by the end of the day, sifting out the details, searching for clues as to what about the attacks had been random and what had been deliberate acts against General Riley’s oldest daughter.
Other than the busted front fender, the stunt had gone nearly perfectly. As sirens swelled around him, heading toward her neighborhood, he knew he needed to deal with that noticeable hazard immediately. Plans A and B were coming along too well to be derailed by an unplanned interaction with the police.
His pulse skipped a little, anticipating what a rush it might be if he had to successfully evade a traffic stop. He took a deep breath, thinking of the timelines and surveillance boards back in his office. Better not to press his luck. The police would play into his plans—on his terms and schedule.
He’d ordered a thorough scouting report on the area and done his own reconnaissance, too. Turning off the main road at the first opportunity, he now found a strip mall that had seen better days. Parking near a scrubby little landscape island to hide the torn-up front end, he climbed out and examined the damage. A scan of the area gave him the confidence to modify his plan and dump the vehicle.
He left the ball cap he’d found in the car when he’d stolen it on the seat. Striding away, he pocketed the gloves he’d worn to hide his fingerprints. He would throw them away or burn them within the hour.
Whistling, he walked along, enjoying the beautiful weather. At this rate, he’d reach his hotel about the time she got home from the emergency room. No chance they’d let her skip a doctor’s exam this time. His flight home was booked for the end of the week. Plenty of time to finish his annual follow-ups, create solid alibis to keep him out of the Army CID net, and meet with the team who would finish off Grace Ann Riley, just as soon as he issued the order.
In his pockets, his palms went damp at the idea of handling her himself. He had a key to her house. He could be in and out before anyone could sound the alarm. But the inherent satisfaction of killing her quickly would be fleeting and far too easy on her bastard father.
General Riley’s torture had just begun. Sure, his firstborn son had survived. That didn’t bother him much, not when there were five Riley children to use against the general. Five Riley children to harass and possibly kill before he had his face-to-face confrontation with the man who’d wrecked his career, ruined his family and ultimately destroyed his lifelong dreams.
The general had used him and then turned his back on him, breaking the unspoken promise of comrades in arms by labeling him rogue and making him a scapegoat instead of a hero.
The general must be held accountable for his bad decisions, publicly and personally. And he was the man fate had sent to make General Riley pay.
Chapter 6
Derek turned into the neighborhood as another car went tearing out onto the main road. A block later, he came across a dented vehicle shoved up on a sidewalk and a person sprawled in the front yard. He stopped, ready to offer help, when he saw that person was Grace Ann.
He slammed the car into Park and cut the engine. Terror had him by the throat as he dialed 911. The operator answered as he clambered out of the car. She couldn’t be dead. Life couldn’t keep stealing people he loved.
Another man, charging up from the direction of her house, was shouting her name. Derek put himself between her and the threat before he recognized it was one of the men Hank assigned to watch her house.
“Sir? Sir, are you still on the line?” the emergency operator asked.
“Yes.” Derek swallowed. “I’m here.” He found the house number posted over the porch and relayed the information. “There’s a woman in distress. We need an ambulance immediately.”
“The paramedics are on the way.”
“Thank you.” He ended the call, giving Grace Ann his full attention. Eyes closed, she was breathing. He latched onto that. “What happened, baby?” He smoothed a hand over her hair, afraid to jostle her. “Can you hear me?” Nothing about the scene made sense. All he could think of was getting her out of here, but he didn’t dare move her.
“Derek?” She blinked rapidly and the confusion swimming in her eyes hit him like a sucker punch. “How did you get here?”
“Easy. Don’t move. An ambulance is on the way.”
The man from the protective detail skidded to a stop, standing over them. Based on the side of the conversation Derek could hear, the man was reporting to Hank. “Is she okay?” he asked, pocketing his phone. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Derek wanted nothing more than to keep her safe behind locked doors for the rest of her days. “I was just coming back from the hardware store. Where were you?” he demanded.
“Tyler was following her in the car when he got a flat.”
“Not his fault.” She sounded stronger, though she didn’t move. “Just a close call.”
Too close, he thought. “You’re going to the hospital.”
“Only to see Kevin,” she argued. “After a shower. I think there’s grass in my ears.”
He examined both ears. “You’re clear.” Let her think she’d won this round. The paramedics could be the bad guys and insist on taking her in. “Can you tell me what hurts?”
“Everything,” she admitted. “I’m one giant dull ache. Nothing’s broken.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He sat down beside her and tried to sort out the scene. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I got hit by the car that jumped the curb.” She lifted a hand in the general direction of the vehicle on the sidewalk.
“You think the car’s possessed?” he teased.
She chuckled and gasped, a hand reaching for her side. “Ow. Stop.”
“Cracked rib?” he queried.
“More like a battered ego,” she replied. “Someone drove into the parked car, the parked car knocked me over here and the first one left.”
His temper spiked. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the vehicle before it was gone. Maybe it was his turn to overreact, but his first thought was that this was a bigger version of the stairwell attack at the hospital. Isolate her, strike fast and hard, and flee. “When will you tell me what’s really going on?”
“I just did.” She blinked owlishly.
Hearing sirens approaching, he let that go for now.
Her hand slipped into his and she gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’m fine,” she said.
She wasn’t as badly injured as he’d feared, though she was far from fine. “It would’ve been bad finding a stranger here.” His heart might never return to a normal rhythm. “Finding you like this? That scares the hell out of me.”
“What are you saying?”
This wasn’t the time or place to spell it out for her. He cared for her and the feeling grew deeper every time he saw her. “We need to stop meeting like this.” He lifted her hand and kissed it softly.
“You may have a point.”
A police cruiser pulled up, lights going, followed by an ambulance. Derek moved aside to let the paramedics work. He introduced himself to Hank’s team, Tyler and James.
“What did her brother say?” Derek asked James.
“Nothing good,” James replied. “He’s afraid this was no accident.”
Derek shook his head. “To hit her with a parked car?” That required serious skill. “Was it bad luck with your flat tire?”
James shook his head. “Impossible to say for certain, but I don’t think so.”
Discreetly, Derek looked around. Someone must be watching Grace Ann. There was no other explanation for knowing exactly when and where to strike. He listened as she gave her report to Officers Willet and Radcliff, the same pair who’d responded to the vandalism call. Derek heard her frustration as she explained that she hadn’t caught any of the license plate number or a helpful description of the driver, just the general impression of a white compact car.
“The bumper,” she said. “The front bumper was dragging as he drove away.”
“That’ll help. We’ll call that in,” Officer Willet assured her. “That’s a good start.”
The paramedics had administered oxygen and helped her to her feet, flanking her as she tried to walk. She was steadier than he expected, the sight soothing his raw nerves.
As they aimed her toward the ambulance, she dug in her heels and refused transport. “You need to go,” he said, supporting the paramedics. “Come on. Would you let a friend walk away from this without an exam?”
“Maybe I would.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, her fingers catching in the torn fabric of her hoodie.
“No way.” He rolled his eyes. “You care too much about your friends,” he said. “What if I ride with you and we stop by Kevin’s room when you’re cleared?”
“What if you take me home to shower and change and then we go see Kevin?” she countered. “An ER visit is a waste of time and resources. I’m fine,” she insisted.
He studied her closely; she was only a little shaky and that was probably more about being the center of attention than anything else. He gave in with a muttered oath. “What should I watch for?” he asked the paramedics, relenting under her pleading gaze. Once they were at the hospital, he could have someone from her unit check her out.
