Police brushed past the startled aide standing in Colonel Masters’s outer office at Baylor Marine Corps Base.
“The colonel is—”
“Waiting for me,” Ethan snapped. “I know.” Lieutenant Colonel Terence Masters, Ethan’s former father-in-law, was always a step ahead of him, it seemed. Ethan and Jillian’s divorce had cemented the bad feelings. He led Titus, his German shorthaired pointer, into the office, found Masters seated in his leather chair behind the gleaming wood desk. Mahogany, he’d been told, nineteenth century. Hard lines, unyielding contours and pretentious, like the man who owned it.
“You’re late,” Masters said. “And I don’t want your dog in here.”
“With respect, sir, the dog goes where I go and I don’t appreciate you pressuring my commanding officer to get me to do this harebrained job during my leave. I said I would consider it, didn’t I?”
Masters gave him a smug smile. “A little extra insurance to help you make up your mind, Webb.”
Ethan glared. “It’s a bad idea, like I said before. Leave me alone to do my investigation with the team at Canyon, and we’ll catch Sullivan.” They were working around the clock to put away the serial killer who was targeting his air force brothers and sisters as well as a few select others, including Ethan’s ex-wife, marine naval aviator Lieutenant Jillian Masters. Boyd Sullivan was a killer with a flair for the dramatic, leaving a red rose as his grisly calling card, along with a note. “I’m coming for you.” He had earned his nickname, the Red Rose Killer.
“Your team,” Masters said with a nasty inflection on the first word, “hasn’t gotten the job done and this lunatic has threatened my daughter. There have been sightings near our base indicating he’s zeroing in on her. You’re going to work for me privately, protect Jillian from Sullivan, draw him out and catch him, as we’ve discussed. We’re playing offense here, rather than defense. It’s a Marines thing, son. Maybe you airmen can’t understand, but we like to face our enemies head-on.” He steepled his fingers on the desktop.
Ethan fought to keep the anger from balling his hands into fists. Masters loved his games. Now he held the stick and Ethan was the bear about to be poked. “So you think I’m going to pretend to be married to Jillian again and that’s going to put us in the perfect position to catch Sullivan? A couple of sitting ducks waiting to be shot?”
Masters stared at him. “You’re going to prevent that, remember?”
He shoved a hand through his crew cut hair, striving for control. “This is lunacy. I can’t believe you’re willing to use your daughter as bait.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve decided it’s too risky for Jillian and that’s why I hired this girl. This is Kendra Bell.” He gestured to someone in the doorway.
The civilian woman stepped into the office and Ethan could only stare at her. That creamy skin, that curtain of red hair skimming her face... Shock ripped through him like rifle fire.
“You’re...” He shook himself slightly and tried again. “I mean... You look like...”
“Your ex-wife,” she finished. “I know. That’s the point.”
He swallowed hard and peered closer and the truth assembled itself as the surprise ebbed away. They did resemble each other, this woman and Jillian—same build, same eye color, same tint of hair.
She shot a distrustful look at Titus, and raised an eyebrow in Ethan’s direction. “If you’re finished staring...?”
He gulped. His mama would have boxed his ears to know he’d been ogling, but honestly, the resemblance was mind-blowing. Heat climbed up his neck.
“People used to mistake us for each other in high school,” she said. “Sullivan’s going to make the same error, and that’s how I’ll catch him, without your interference.”
“My interference?”
She ignored him, turning to Masters. “You neglected to tell me, when I agreed to the job, about this scheme to involve Lieutenant Webb.”
“I sent you a follow-up email,” Masters said.
“Uh-huh.” She folded her arms across her body. “Anything else you failed to mention, Colonel?”
Ethan tore his gaze away and locked eyes with Masters. “This wasn’t part of the plan I heard, either.”
“Yes, it was. I just didn’t tell either one of you all of the pertinent facts.”
Ethan blew out a breath and shook his head. “No way. Working with Jillian would be bad enough, but at least she’s a marine, not a civilian, and she knows how to protect herself.”
“So can I,” Kendra said. “I’m a licensed PI, with a real gun and everything.”
He cast her a doubtful look and started to answer, but Masters cut him off. “You will pretend to be newly reconciled husband and wife.”
“No one will believe that,” Ethan said.
“Yes, they will. I’ve already started the gossip wheels turning here and at Canyon that you two are an item. Posted an old picture of you two on a few key military networking sites.”
Ethan gaped. “You...”
“And when Sullivan comes for Kendra thinking she is my daughter, you will catch him before any harm comes to Jillian.”
“And what about the harm that might come to her?” Ethan snapped, jerking a thumb in the civilian’s direction.
Kendra glared at him. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. Like I said, I can take care of myself. Before I was a PI I worked as a bounty hunter, and there’s plenty of excitement in that job, let me tell you. I don’t need, or want, your help on this case.”
His cheeks went hot again. “That’s A-OK by me, because I’m not offering it. We’re not working together. I’m out of here.” He stalked to the door, his dog at his heels.
“Lieutenant,” Masters bellowed. “You will not walk out on me.”
Ethan turned and fired a glance at Masters. “I’m not one of your marines, Colonel, nor am I your son-in-law anymore, so with all due respect to your rank...” He let the slam of the door fill in the rest.
* * *
Kendra felt the crackle of energy leave the room along with Ethan Webb and his dog. She had recognized him from the file Colonel Masters had sent, but in person he was more impressive. The guy could be on a recruiting poster. Dark hair, eyes like coffee with a hint of cream, six feet of muscle and barely concealed annoyance, and a Southern drawl that thickened in proportion with his anger. His arrival had thrown her off her game. Time to get the meeting back under control.
Calm, cool and collected, she told herself. Nothing you can’t handle. But it was hard to brush off the unsettling scene she’d just been part of, and more important, the text message she’d gotten that morning just before she’d dumped her cell and gotten herself a new number.
You’re dead.
No
