by Nicole Helm
Nick put the brakes on the inappropriate fantasy and leashed his raging hormones. Having an infatuation with a witness that bordered on obsessive was a reason to have his head examined.
He turned into the mall parking lot and pulled into a spot close to the west side entrance. The trip had been approved by their boss and planned for two weeks. He and Ted had gone over the layout of the shopping center numerous times, had memorized the location of the security station and every exit, and had narrowed down the mall’s peak hours. That was why they’d chosen the morning, shortly after the mall opened when it would be quiet, no crowds and easy to control the environment.
They entered the mall through a side door and walked down a short corridor with a few stores. Only the tea shop appeared to be busy at this hour. An apron-clad clerk stood out front holding a tray of samples. An elderly gentleman with a salt-and-pepper crown, hobbling with a cane, approached the clerk and asked questions about the different varieties available to taste.
As they reached the central part of the shopping center, Nick was at Lori’s side and Ted at their six behind them. The entrance they used was the closest to the women’s business-apparel store that Lori had chosen in advance. The walk was a short distance, but everything stretched before him, almost in slow motion.
Nick surveilled their surroundings, noting everyone in the vicinity. A couple, one pushing a stroller, the other with a baby in a carrier strapped to their body. Three fiftysomething-year-old ladies power walking while engrossed in a lively discussion.
Nothing stood out or struck him as unusual, but there was a subtle tug of caution in his gut, like he was being watched. Another furtive glance around still didn’t pinpoint any cause for alarm. Why his pulse pounded, and his palms itched, he didn’t know. They’d taken Lori on a few other outings, although never to the mall, and never to the same place twice.
It was probably just the buildup of stress and pressure from his longest assignment drawing to a culmination with her set to testify tomorrow. They were so close to finishing this.
As much as he needed to keep Lori safe and get her through her testimony, he also wasn’t ready to let her go. She’d been the sole focus of his life for the better part of a year. Resetting and moving on didn’t seem possible. It certainly wasn’t desirable. If he had a choice, he’d keep on seeing her, talking with her, hell, sneaking in a permissible touch—every single day.
But that was the one thing he didn’t have a say in.
He brushed the thought aside, concentrating instead on what he could control.
They reached the women’s clothing store. As they walked inside, a chime dinged from a motion-activated PIR sensor he spotted.
An employee behind the register, wearing a blazer and sporting a curly bob, made eye contact and gave a perky smile.
One female customer perusing a row of blouses didn’t glance their way.
“Hello,” the young sales associate said, her warm voice rich with enthusiasm. “Right now we have a sale on accessories. Fifty percent off. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
“Thank you,” Lori said.
“You’ve got twenty minutes.” Nick looked at his watch while Ted swept the rest of the store. “We’re in and out, okay?”
Lori went to a rack of suits. “You don’t give a gal much time.”
“One hour away from the property,” he said, reminding her of the rules. “Not a minute more.”
Nick’s attention flickered to the other customer.
The woman was in her early forties, petite, olive complexion, coal-black hair pulled in a tight bun. No jewelry, wore slacks and a blousy top and carried a leather purse. She reached up, taking a shirt from the upper rack, and the frilly bell sleeve of her blouse dropped an inch, revealing a tattoo of a black rose on the back of her hand. The ink fit her. Beautiful. Elegant. Dark.
Reflexively, Nick pressed his arm against the Glock 22 in his shoulder rig.
“I don’t see why I should be penalized because the house is thirty miles away,” Lori said, checking the size on a navy two-piece.
The low chime at the front threshold rang. Another woman entered the store. Bottled-bleach-blonde. Tall and thin. Jeans and a buttoned shirt. Sneakers that squelched lightly against the tile floor.
“Eighteen minutes,” Nick said, telegraphing with his hard tone this was nonnegotiable.
Lori cringed. “Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you snarl orders at me like a drill sergeant?”
Snarl? And drill sergeants were the worst. No one liked them. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Try understating. When we’re out, you have two speeds. Icy cool and this Judge Dredd persona.”
Nick realized he sometimes came across as abrasive when he was in work mode, but that wasn’t the impression he was shooting for. At all.
She picked a suit from the rack. “This should work. I better go try it on. Tick-tock.”
Nick looked to Ted, where his partner stood at the entrance of the dressing rooms. Ted nodded, signaling the stalls were empty and he’d make sure no one followed Lori inside.
Blondie headed straight to some dresses hanging in the rear of the store, grabbed one almost mindlessly, or perhaps she’d been in before and knew what she was looking for, flicked a glance at a tag and made a beeline for the dressing rooms.
Ted lifted a palm, not letting the blonde in after Lori. The woman huffed and protested, raising a loud stink, but his partner held firm.
Show her your badge, Ted, and be done with it. Flashing the Eagle Top five-pointed star had a way of shutting down any complaints lickety-split.
“Who do you think you are?” Blondie asked with a fist on her hip.
“A US Deputy Marshal, ma’am,” Ted said. “Sorry for the inconvenience and the wait.”
“Listen, jerk. I need to get in there now.”
Ted laughed in his self-deprecating way. “Sorry. Not going to happen.”
The sales associate went over to the scene unfolding. “Hi,” she said brightly, her sunny disposition almost disarming. “Is there a problem?”
Nick maintained his position, monitoring the rest of the shop and the entrance.
Black Rose circled silent as a fox around to an ornate display of scarves and ran her fingers across the silk. Not once since they’d entered had she acknowledged their presence in the slightest. Until now.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his, her face an expressionless mask, but her sharp eyes were those of a merciless predator.
Prior experience as an army ranger in Afghanistan before becoming a marshal had taught him the hard way never to underestimate a woman with a slight build, or even a child for that matter, and the deep scar under his chin was a testament.
For a chilling instant they stared at one another, sizing the other up. Not from a physical perspective. It was an assessment of will. And what Nick saw in her was fathomless.
Blondie threw the dress at Ted, dividing Nick’s attention, and stormed out of the store.
The bell chimed. Black Rose’s steely eyes narrowed before she turned and strode unhurriedly toward the door—as if she had all the time in the world.
Then he saw it. Her low-heeled boots that didn’t make a sound.
His neck prickled the way it did when he was on a hunt for big game with his siblings. Nick followed. He had no reason to detain or question her, but something about that woman was wrong. From the tattoo, those rubber-soled shoes, to how she’d looked at him. As if she’d wanted to slice through him like a hot knife through butter.
None of it was evidence of anything and not cause for more than suspicion, but training and years of experience had taught him not to dismiss either.
The woman strolled away, lengthening the distance between them with each store she passed. One, two, three. But the tighten
ing in his gut didn’t ease.
Black Rose glimpsed back at him over her shoulder, caught his fixed stare and stopped in her tracks. Pivoting, she turned and faced him, leveling her icy gaze his way. The look she sent him was full of loathing and in a blink it changed. Her lips hitched in an ominous half grin and she winked. Almost daring him to pursue.
Old ranger instincts urged him to take up the chase, confirm what his gut screamed about the woman, shake something that made sense out of her, but his training overruled recklessness.
He looked back in the quiet clothing store, checking on things.
Ted no longer stood stationed at the entrance of the dressing rooms.
Nick touched his Bluetooth earpiece. “Ted? What’s your position? Do you have eyes on Hummingbird?” he asked, using the code name for Lori.
Deafening silence.
Nick’s pulse spiked, but he remained calm—never one to succumb to panic. He stepped past displays and racks, his gaze scanning, his mind assessing.
No sign of Ted. Or the sales associate.
Drawing his gun, Nick hustled toward the dressing rooms.
Anticipation coiled in his chest, adrenaline roaring through him. The weight of his backup piece strapped to his ankle was a small comfort. Nick’s fingers tightened on his Glock. He reached the threshold, scanned left, then right.
Ted lay on the floor beyond the entrance in a corner. Blood soaked his white hair at the base of his skull.
Son of a—
Ted was down.
There was no time to check if his partner was unconscious or dead. A commotion deeper in the dressing room drew him forward. Two people struggled inside the second stall.
The horror in Lori’s terrified whimper jolted his heart.
Copyright © 2020 by Juno Rushdan
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ISBN: 9781488067303
Covert Complication
Copyright © 2020 by Nicole Helm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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