Stalked in Silver Valley

by Geri Krotow

  * * *

  Kit used every ounce of patience and self-control she had to not react too soon and risk being shot by Markova or Ivanov. She knew she could hit Brad since his nervousness had morphed into all-out panic. He’d thought Mishka’s name would keep him safe, but the two former ROC leaders weren’t buying it. If they killed him first, she’d have to try to kill both of them in quick succession.

  “If you have Kit, you’ll show Vlad that you’re worthy of running ROC again.”

  “We don’t know you. If you were important to Mishka, he’d have told us.”

  “He couldn’t. He didn’t want you to know more than you needed to.” Brad’s voice grew weaker, pleading. Kit waited.

  “We don’t need Vadim’s ex alive. Shoot her now, then come inside.” Markova’s order made icy determination blossom in Kit’s chest.

  “Are you sure?” What a fool Brad was. He didn’t know ROC as well as she did. An execution order was never questioned.

  She quickly but surreptitiously reached for the weapon between her legs, needing only to move her arm a few inches to do so. Praying that from this distance Markova and Ivanov couldn’t see her movements, she grasped the handle and tugged it free.

  “Kill her!” Ivanov’s voice carried across the distance.

  Kit waited for Brad to turn to her, but didn’t wait for him to raise his weapon. She shot him in the chest, relieved when he fell.

  And prepared to run for the tree line. Chances were that Markova would hit her before she got to safety, but she had to go for it.

  “Kit, stay down!”

  Luther.

  Shots rang out all around her. She fought the primal urge to get up and run for her life.

  Kit trusted Luther.

  Chapter 20

  Three Weeks Later

  “Meow.” Koshka swirled between Kit’s legs as she finished baking chocolate chip cookies. Annie and the girls were coming over for a Friday-night chat, the first since the ROC op had been wrapped up. Everyone had been too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to consider a celebration any sooner. It was a huge relief to know Ivanov and Markova were in custody. No one had expected they’d capitulate so easily, but when Ivanov was faced with the truth that his son was going to jail, he caved and surrendered. Markova had attempted an escape, but Josh Avery shot her in the shoulder, and she survived. It was the happiest of endings for a long fight against the crime ring’s hold on Silver Valley and the eastern half of the US.

  In truth, as much as she’d been professionally satisfied, Kit had been heartbroken. She’d survived the shoot-out, as had every LEA agent and officer present, save for Brad Norris. Luther had found her right afterward, but hadn’t allowed her, again, to say what she wanted to. He’d only pulled her to him and hugged her for several minutes, before saying he had to “go take care of business.”

  If she’d known he was going to leave town, as evidenced by his empty apartment that she’d visited two weeks ago, she would have spilled her heart right there in the middle of the Christmas trees. Now he’d never know the difference he’d made in her life, or how much he meant to her.

  “Meow.” Koshka was always in the vicinity of the oven when she had it on. Turning it off, she giggled at her furry buddy.

  “No sweets for you. Here, let me get you a treat.” She put the spatula down and reached for Koshka’s kitty snack jar as her doorbell rang. It was wonderful to be back in her apartment, her home. Only one thing had been missing these last weeks.

  Luther.

  She sighed and walked toward the door. It seemed awfully quiet in her hallway, unlike the usually boisterous chatter that Annie and Portia engaged in. Plus they’d promised to bring along several other women they all knew and worked with, in TH, Claudia included.

  When she looked through the peephole, her heart raced. Luther.

  She quickly pasted a smile on her face and opened the door.

  “Luther?”

  His face, rugged as ever, broke into a grin the moment they made eye contact. “Can I come in?”

  “Ah, sure.” She stepped back, opening the door wide. “I’m expecting a group of ladies in a few minutes. I thought you were them.”

  He walked into her living room. Only then did she see the huge bouquet in his hands.

  “Here. For you. They reminded me of you.”

  She took the confection of pink roses, peonies and daisies. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” Did he see how much the petals shook, in unison with her trembling hands? “Why pink?”

  As easily as he’d given her the gift, he took the flowers from her and placed them on a side table. Stepping closer, he grasped her hands and held them between them. She felt an answering tremor in his fingers; his entire body seemed to be shaking.

  Was Luther nervous? She licked her lips, searched his face for a clue to his intent. Hope flared in her belly that maybe he’d come to finish what she’d wanted to say in the middle of the Christmas trees.

  “Kit, I don’t want you to think you have to reply to anything I’m about to say. It’s only fair to tell you, though, that I’ve decided to change my life for the better. Meaning, I want to be with you. I’ve taken a position at SVPD as a detective, and I’ll still work with TH on an as-needed basis. With ROC gone, they don’t need as many in their workforce right now.”

  “Stop!” She tugged her hand from his grasp and placed her fingers over his lips. “You told me enough when you said you want to be with me. I want to be with you, too!” She leaned up, her lips puckered.

  He put his finger on her lips. “Not yet. There’s one more thing.”

  She wasn’t going to let him get to the punch line first.

  “I love you, Luther!”

  “I love you, Kit.”

  Their mutual proclamation stilled them for a second, and then Kit was done with waiting, with longing. She launched herself at Luther, wrapping her legs around his waist. He was ready for her, holding her with complete security as their lips met in their most meaningful kiss yet.

  They were in love.

  It was all going to work out.

  Their kiss began to change into something more, heat growing in their embrace. A few coughs and ahems broke through the quiet, and Kit pulled back enough to look toward the door, which they’d left open.

  Annie, Portia and Claudia stood in the foyer, huge grins on their faces. And was that a tear on Claudia’s face?

  “Uh, Luther—”

  “Yeah, babe?” He followed her gaze, but instead of releasing her, he hoisted her up higher, laughing. “You may as well all know—we’re an item.”

  Applause and cheers echoed and Luther again lowered his mouth to hers. When they looked up again, the front door was closed and they were alone.

  Together.

  * * *

  Don’t miss the other thrilling romances in

  Geri Krotow’s Silver Valley PD miniseries:

  Incognito Ex

  Snowbound with the Secret Agent

  Reunion Under Fire

  The Fugitive’s Secret Child

  Secret Agent Under Fire

  Her Secret Christmas Agent

  Wedding Takedown

  Her Christmas Protector

  All available now from

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Cold Case Witness by Melinda Di Lorenzo.

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Danger. Passion. Drama.

  These heart-racing page-turners will keep you guessing to the very end. Experience the thrill of unexpected plot twists and irresistible chemistry.

  4 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!

  Cold Case Witness

  by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  Chapter 1

  Inside his dust-covered pickup truck, Warren Wright fou
ght a shiver. He had the heat blasting on high, but the lick of air that blew through the broken seal of his driver’s-side window held more than a chill. It was heavy with the weight of impending rain, too. Of course, after nearly forty-one years of living in Southern Alberta, Warren had seen enough storms to be sure that there were no guarantees of precipitation. This was the third display in the last two weeks, but it had been twice as long since a drop had fallen, and already there were rumblings from the small-town residents of Pollard. For the sake of the surrounding farmland, he did hope tonight would be the night.

  “But after I get home, all right?” he said as another jagged bolt and its accompanying clap made the world shudder.

  A glance at the truck’s dashboard told him that he should’ve been halfway home by now. Twenty minutes more. Maybe less, so long as the highway stayed empty.

  Which it probably would, Warren thought dryly. Considering that it’s Friday night at eleven o’clock.

  It didn’t exactly qualify as rush hour. Yes, there were enough people who commuted from outside of Calgary proper that there were times of congestion. Seven in the morning and five in the evening came to mind. Particularly if those instances overlapped with a slow-moving tractor or a hay-hauling truck. But the current moment definitely didn’t fall into that category. On top of which, Warren had been forced to pull a U-turn about five clicks back, and he was now headed in the opposite direction of home anyway.

  He sighed, annoyed all over again. Realistically, the lack of traffic was the only good thing about his day so far. Everything else fell into the seven depths of hell. From the permit that had fallen through on his two-year-long building project to the plumber who’d walked out at the end of the day while his half-finished, poorly executed job spewed water every which way, there hadn’t been a single silver lining. All he wanted was to crack open a beer, put his feet up on his ottoman and watch the PVRed hockey game. Preferably in flannel PJ bottoms and a T-shirt. Preferably a set that wasn’t covered in construction residue like his current jeans and cotton top. Instead, he was heading back to the city to retrieve the device he both resented and was completely dependent on at the same time.

  “Stupid damn phone,” he muttered.

  If it hadn’t been Friday, he might’ve chanced going without it. Or maybe if he hadn’t just let one of the guys on his crew talk him into giving up his landline in favor of full wirelessness. Really, though, the thing that trumped all else was the fact that Warren was the boss. If something—else—went wrong, he needed to be available to deal with it.

  Warren pinched his nose, sighed again, then reached over and clicked the radio on. Right away, a voice boomed through the truck.

  “And for all you Flames fans...” said the announcer.

  “Dammit,” Warren swore, belatedly remembering why he’d been maintaining the silence in the first place.

  He fumbled to turn the radio off again. He wasn’t quick enough.

  “A hard loss in the shoot-out,” finished the DJ.

  Warren stabbed his finger against the button a little too hard, resulting in a momentary loss of control of the steering wheel. A horn blared out, and he jerked the truck back onto his own side of the road as an angry driver—the first one he’d seen since turning around—flipped him the middle finger. Warren growled a curse. Except swearing wasn’t satisfying in the slightest, because a dance of flashes lit up the sky at the same moment, and the thunder clapped all around as though to outdo him.

  “Seriously?”

  He squeezed the steering wheel and contemplated turning around once more. Would the world really end if he was out of contact for the weekend? If people were desperate to get a hold of him, they could send an email, couldn’t they? His finger hovered near the turn signal switch. Before he could hit it, though, yet another blaze crackled overhead, and this time, it illuminated a familiar billboard.

  More Coffee, read the sign. Our Name Says it All. Open 24 hours!

  Underneath the slogan was a picture of a steaming mug and an address.

  Unconsciously, Warren relaxed his shoulders. The quaint café was generally his first stop in the morning on the way to the site. The coffee was good. So were the fresh pastries. Neither of those things was what kept him coming back. What Warren liked best was the service. In particular, who he liked best was Jeannie.

  The thirty-something barista was an anomaly in the sea of otherwise ultrayoung people working at More Coffee. Not that she looked that much older than they did. In all honesty, Warren had been surprised to learn that she was closer to his age than to theirs. Her skin was flawlessly unlined. The dark, waist-length hair that she wore in a braid was notably devoid of gray. It was something less definable that made her stand out. Multiple things, really. Like the extra second she took to ask him how he was—like she really cared rather than like it was just a part of her job. Or the hint of sadness in her brown eyes that made him want to squeeze her hand and ask if she was okay.

  Or maybe you just like reading into everything she does because you think she’s pretty?

  Warren gave his head a rueful shake. She was most definitely attractive, but he wasn’t in the market for romance. Not on any level. He had far too much baggage weighing him down. A past that no one—even himself—needed to mire in. Still. That didn’t change the fact that every time he saw the billboard, it was Jeannie’s smile that filled his mind. Even now, when he knew he wasn’t heading into the café—and if he had been, that she wouldn’t be there—he found his mouth curving up a bit as he turned off the highway.

  Slowing the truck to a reasonable speed, he navigated the turns without having to think about it. He’d been coming and going from the area for twenty-three months on the nose, and it was as familiar as his own town. Soon, he’d be done. The last of the older, run-down homes were long since demolished. The new shopping mall was up and awaiting its grand opening. The biggest housing subdivision was already teeming with kids on bikes and dogs on leashes. Permit failure notwithstanding, the final piece in the development would be the attached townhome and apartment building where Warren presently spent his days. It was the biggest job he’d ever undertaken. The most collaborative and the most lucrative, too. Up until the inception of this project, he’d worked primarily with individuals rather than companies and city planners. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he wanted the headache of doing it ever again, either.

  And speaking of headaches...

  Warren felt one coming on as he neared his on-site office and spied an older model, boxy-looking sedan. The vehicle sat up near the newest—and closest—section of partially finished homes. It was just barely visible in the yellowish glow of the office’s exterior light, but that didn’t stop it from being out of place. Warren wasn’t sure what annoyed him more—the fact that someone was intruding on the property, or the fact that he was now obligated to check it out.

  I swear that if I find a bunch of drunk teenagers hanging from the frames, I’m gonna haul their butts down to the police station myself, he thought irritably as he cut the engine, shrugged into his plaid jacket, then swung open the door. And so help me, if I have to replace the damn lock...

  Except when he reached the gate, he saw that the heavy chain and padlock weren’t damaged. They simply hung open, whipping and rattling in protest as the wind hit them.

  Unease slithered between Warren’s shoulders. Who was there? He swung his gaze up to the sedan and tapped his fingers on his thigh.

  On the one hand, the fact that the lock wasn’t broken made him think whoever was there had at least some kind of authorization. A lot of subcontractors came and went. Electricians, plumbers, drywallers and more. Emergencies weren’t limited to business hours. Whoever they were, they could have a perfectly valid reason to be there, even if Warren hadn’t been informed.

  He frowned, considering the likelihood. It was plausible. On the other hand, though, he really felt like it
was the kind of thing he ought to be aware of. Who didn’t let the guy in charge know if there was extra work to be done after the site closed up?

  Then he smiled wryly as he recalled that there was a possibility that someone had tried to call him. Only he would never have known, since his phone was sitting on his desk.

  His fingers tapped the denim of his jeans a little harder, the dull, rhythmic thuds vibrating up his leg. Realistically, he knew he couldn’t leave without at least determining who it was, but he sure as hell wished it wasn’t an obligation.

  His eyes hung on the car, the discomfort coming back. Was that a light he saw up there, too? For a second, he could swear he saw a bumping series of flashes that had nothing to do with the storm. It didn’t look much like the steady beam of someone who was doing work.

  “Probably some other dummy who forgot his phone,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders to shake off the unease.

  He forced his gaze away and stepped through the gate, moving at a quick, irritated pace toward the portable office. If he was lucky, the unexpected visitors would spy him first and save him the trouble of going to them. He didn’t make it all the way to the building, though, before a clang blared out over the wind. It made him pause. For a moment, the air was reasonably still and silent. Then the clang sounded again. It was almost like metal on metal, but not quite.

  Warren turned his attention toward the noise. He took a few more steps, this time to the side of the building instead of closer to its door. He halted again, waiting. For several seconds, there was nothing. He was about to turn away when a thick gust of wind kicked up, bringing muffled voices with it.

  What the hell was going on back there?