by Cassie Miles
Her past will haunt both of them.
Gennie Fox’s first assignment for ARC Security is straightforward. Then her traitorous ex-fiancé shows up, a guest is murdered and her boss—former SEAL Noah Sheridan—gets caught in the cross fire of the case. Noah trusts the coolheaded army vet to help get to the truth, but is Gennie’s past wreaking havoc on what’s growing between them...or is something more sinister at work?
With her Beretta clenched in her fist, Gennie joined Noah at the right of the SUV, where they hid in the shadows of tall pine trees and waited.
There were no lights from the house behind the driveway and no other vehicles on the road. Raindrops splattered on the leaves and branches. The wind rustled.
If the vehicle that had been following them appeared, what should they do? An exchange of gunfire seemed like a really bad idea, especially since she and Noah didn’t know who was in pursuit.
When she looked up at him, peering through the morning mist, his gaze locked with hers. “Thanks, Gennie, for putting up with me.”
“I’m here for you.”
He reached for her and pulled her into an embrace. Though layers of clothing and two Kevlar vests separated them, she felt his heart beating in time with hers. She wanted to tear off all these clothes, to race back to his cabin and snuggle up in a warm, cozy bed. But they had a job to do.
THE FINAL SECRET
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Cassie Miles
Cassie Miles, a USA TODAY bestselling author, lives in Colorado. After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Harlequin Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanic Gardens near her high-rise home.
Books by Cassie Miles
Harlequin Intrigue
Mountain Midwife
Sovereign Sheriff
Baby Battalion
Unforgettable
Midwife Cover
Mommy Midwife
Montana Midwife
Hostage Midwife
Mountain Heiress
Snowed In
Snow Blind
Mountain Retreat
Colorado Wildfire
Mountain Bodyguard
Mountain Shelter
Mountain Blizzard
Frozen Memories
The Girl Who Wouldn’t Stay Dead
The Girl Who Couldn’t Forget
The Final Secret
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Genevieve (Gennie) Fox—Retired from the Army Corps of Engineers after an ambush in Afghanistan killed part of her team and left her partially disabled, she’s a new hire at ARC Security and determined to prove herself as a bodyguard.
Noah Sheridan—Head of field operations for ARC, he admires Gennie’s physical skills and qualifications. Her naturally blunt manner isn’t well suited to detective work, but she’s a fast learner. And he needs her help when accused of murder.
Tony Vega—Second in command at ARC.
Dean Slocum—The murdered blackmailer dies with many dangerous secrets untold.
Kenneth Warrick—An arms dealer from Afghanistan, he betrayed Gennie’s affections and might have sabotaged her team. Discovering him in Colorado is definitely bad news.
Mitch Murano—The self-proclaimed guru from Boulder has made a fortune from meditation and enlightenment. As he aims toward a new career in politics, he has secrets that must remain buried.
To Zinj, my latest feline grandson, and, as always, to Rick.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Excerpt from Witness Protection Widow by Debra Webb
Chapter One
Her mission was clear: rescue the hostage.
Gennie Fox wasn’t exactly sure how she’d accomplish the task but needed to act fast. According to her information, her backup was due to arrive in less than fifteen minutes, but she shouldn’t count on them. Her background info indicated that they couldn’t be trusted. She needed to rescue the asset before anybody else showed up. And the clock was ticking down.
She made her approach, creeping through the forested hillside outside an isolated two-story mountain cabin with a cedar deck jutting from the south end. Late afternoon sunlight glistened on patches of spring snow that had mostly melted and left the ground muddy. With her back pressed against the rough trunk of a Ponderosa pine, she observed. Two armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the property. She suspected there were others inside.
If she’d had access to a heat-sensing scanner, she would have known whether the hostage was being held upstairs or on the lower level. The scanner wasn’t her only lack. She had no binoculars, no auditory surveillance devices and her assault gear left much to be desired. The eight-inch double-edged blade in a sheath attached to her belt was good for silent combat, but the handgun she’d been given was clumsy and untrustworthy. Gennie preferred a fifteen-round Beretta similar to the weapon she’d carried on patrol in Afghanistan.
Her unpreparedness extended to her clothing. She’d expected to be meeting for brunch at a trendy spot in the Highlands area of Denver and had dressed in a black leather jacket, olive green silk blouse, black slacks and lace-up sandals with two-inch heels. For this one-woman assault, she should have been wearing head-to-toe camo and steel-toed Dr. Martens.
When one of the guards peered in her direction, her adrenaline spiked. She ducked behind the tree, hoping that her black outfit would blend into the shadows. Her blond hair was covered by a green patterned scarf, and she’d turned up her collar to hide her face. Only her blue eyes stood out. She squinted and watched as the guard turned his head and moved away.
For the moment, she was safe. But she couldn’t just stand here, waiting to be caught. She’d signed on to play this game, and she intended to win.
Holding the gun in her left hand, she drew her knife with the right. Mentally, she mapped her route to the house. Guards had been coming and going on the deck, which meant the sliding glass doors probably weren’t locked. But the approach to that entrance offered little cover, and she wanted to stay hidden as long as possible. Bent over, she dashed from the forested area toward a clump of trees nearer to the front door.
Halfway, her sandals skidded on the mud, and she sprawled. Her quick reflexes compensated for her clumsiness. She sprang into a crouch, froze like a statue and checked to make sure the guards hadn’t seen her. Then she ran. Her left ankle stiffened. She was injured. No time to worry about it now.
At the house she peeked through a window beside the front door, didn’t see a guard. The door was locked, which was what she’d expected. She had a lock pick attached to her key chain and knew how to use it. In mere seconds, the doorknob twisted easily in her hand.
Inside the entryway she scoped out the spacious room with a natural stone fireplace at one end, a hall leading in the direction of the deck on the other and a staircase directly across from the entry. A guard appeared in the doorway from the hall. He looked surprised to see her, and she took advantage. Before he could raise his weapon, she pounced and slashed her blade across his throat. He fell. Take his rifle? She decided against it. Her handgun was better for fighting in close quarters.
Killing the guard had been necessary. He’d been in the way, and she needed to succeed in this mission. Upstairs or down? Trusting her instincts, she rushed to the staircase and ascended to the second floor where she expected to find bedrooms. The upstairs would be easier to defend than what she assumed was a more open floorplan on the lower level.
Directly across from the landing, she confronted a closed door. Was the hostage being held in that room? The other doors on both sides of the long corridor stood open with the exception of the door at the very end.
At the closed door, she pressed her ear against the wood and listened. From inside, she heard a drawer being closed, then a shuffling noise and the thud of heavy boots walking across the floor. Coming closer to her? She jumped back as the door swung open. A guy in a guard uniform raised his arm at right angles to his body and fired at her. He missed. Her aim was more accurate. Two direct hits. The center of his chest turned bright red. He crumpled to the floor.
The gunshots had alerted the other guards. From downstairs, she heard their shouts. Her best guess for the location of the hostage was the closed door at the end of the hall. As she sprinted toward it, a red-haired maid in a pink smock stepped through one of the open doors, holding a stack of folded linens. She gave a shriek and threw up her hands. No weapon. Not a threat. Gennie pushed her back and told her to take cover.
At the closed door, she tried the handle. Locked! No time for finesse, she crashed through, using her shoulder as a battering ram. Tomorrow, she’d have a bruise, but the injury was worth it if she completed her mission. She pushed the door closed behind her. After slipping her knife into the sheath, she held her gun with both hands for stability as she scanned the large room—a well-equipped home gym with a wall of windows and a wide balcony.
A tall lean man wearing knee-length shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt jogged on a treadmill, moving in time to music that must have been playing on his wireless headphones. His back was toward her. When he turned his head, she recognized his profile.
Without lowering her handgun, she approached. “Noah Sheridan.”
With a glance in her direction, he stepped off the treadmill, removed his headphones and rubbed his hand across his close-cropped dark brown hair. “Good timing, Captain Genevieve Fox. The van carrying your backup is pulling into the driveway.”
She braced herself, expecting a twist at the last minute. “Are you the hostage?”
“Who else would I be?”
He came toward her with his hand extended as though to offer congratulations. But he hadn’t followed the script. The information she’d been given stated that the hostage would introduce him or herself by saying, Take my hand and set me free.
Waiting for him to say those code words, she hesitated. Big mistake! He made the first move. A chop on her wrist, and she dropped her handgun. Before she could pull her knife from the sheath, he spun her around and swept her legs out from under her.
He could have ended her mission then and there. Her gun was within his grasp. His dark eyes blazed with excitement. She could tell that he wanted a fight, wanted to show her who was the boss. Not going to happen. Sure, he had the physical advantage. But she had the intense determination of ten combat-ready soldiers.
The door whipped open. The other guards arrived.
“Back off,” Noah shouted to them. “I’ve got this.”
Bite me! She scrambled to her feet, never taking her focus off Noah. If she subdued him, she had the advantage. Noah was the boss. The guards had to obey his orders.
When he grabbed her, she rolled backward, using his momentum to throw him off-balance. Regaining her feet, she thrust out her injured left leg as an obstacle. He tripped and fell to the ground. Avoiding his grasp, she went down on her knees behind him where she got him in a chokehold, pulled her knife and held it in front of his dark eyes.
He flicked the tip of the rubber blade. “I’ve got one thing to say.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re hired.”
The bodyguards, including those she had supposedly killed, swarmed into the home gym, applauding and hooting their approval. She counted five men and one woman—the non-threatening redhead who had been carrying a stack of folded sheets.
Noah pushed her rubber knife out of the way and stood. “How did you like our Rocky Mountain version of Hogan’s Alley?”
Though she’d trained at Quantico, Gennie had never gone through the original Hogan’s Alley—a famed FBI simulator exercise where actors and other agents took on the roles of villains and innocent bystanders. But she’d played the video game where thugs popped out from behind bushes and a nanny with a baby carriage was in the mix.
“To tell the truth,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting this kind of workout at my first job interview for ARC Security.”
“That’s the point. If you decide to join us, you need to be ready for action at any time and in any circumstance.”
He took her hand and helped her to her feet in a gesture that might have been designed to make her think he was a gentleman. Most definitely, he was not. The fire in his eyes told her that Noah had enjoyed their hand-to-hand combat. He was competitive, and she had no doubt that if he’d thwarted her assault, he would have relished the victory.
She straightened her shoulders, pulled the scarf off her neck and ran her fingers through her chin-length blond hair in a futile attempt at grooming. Technically, he’d said that she was hired but she wouldn’t feel comfortable until she signed a contract. Her confidence had taken a hit when she’d belly flopped into the dirt outside the house and ruined her silk blouse. Her injured ankle was another problem.
The fake guards surrounded her, offering congratulations and words of welcome. The lone woman among them had taken off her pink housemaid’s smock. Her sleeveless top showed tanned well-toned arms. With that level of fitness, she was probably a field agent, and Gennie was glad. For much of her life, she’d been in situations where women weren’t an equal part of the equation. From military engineering courses at Texas A&M to boot camp to two and a half tours of duty, she seemed to be always proving herself against a male standard.
The ARC crew seemed friendly, especially the guards she’d “killed” with her rubber knife and paintball gun. A handsome guy with a killer smile introduced himself as Tony Vega. “I’m the thug you knifed in the entryway. How’d you get inside so fast?”
“Picked the lock.”
“Nice move.” When he bobbed his head, he reminded Gennie of her younger brother. “You got skills.”
“But I failed the mission,” she said. “I didn’t rescue the hostage.”
“Because there was no hostage,” Tony said.
Noah explained, “This scenario was an ambush, designed to capture you. The information we gave you hinted that you couldn’t trust your own people. When I attacked, your instincts kicked in. You overwhelmed me but didn’t kill me. Smart move. You could use me as a bargaining chip when my men came into the room.”
“Is this the usual exercise?” she asked.
“We change it every time,” the woman said. “Otherwise, we’d get bored.”
“And we’re all grateful,” Tony added, “that you went upstairs instead of charging into the kitchen and messing up the barbecue we’ve got planned. Hungry?”
Noah interrupted. “The rest of you go downstairs. I’ve got some paperwork for Gennie.”
Smiling, she watched th
em leave. Their friendly camaraderie reminded her of her platoon in Afghanistan, which was what she’d expected when she applied at ARC Security, also known as Noah’s ARC. They mostly hired ex-military personnel and had a stellar reputation as bodyguards, crime solvers and bounty hunters, as well as the original ARC Security Division that dealt with computers and cyber-crime.
“Come with me,” Noah said.
She followed him down the hall, walking carefully on her injured ankle. He held open the door to the first room on the landing where she had encountered a guard. The space was furnished with bookshelves, cabinets, a desk and several computer screens.
“An office,” she said.
“This is actually my house,” he explained. “The location is convenient, less than an hour out of Denver. When I’m in town, I have a condo.”
“You don’t mind messing up this house playing war games with paintball splatter?”
“Bachelor,” he said as if that explained everything. He gestured to a long sofa at the base of the bookcases. “I have a few questions for you.”
Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the clean-line sofa. “I’m still hired, right?”
“I want you working for us. As soon as I saw your résumé, I knew you had the right stuff. You worked security in Kabul in Afghanistan, is that right?”
“Only occasionally,” she said. There were times when they’d wanted a woman as a bodyguard, and she’d been available. “Between my tours of duty, I trained at Quantico.”
“You have contacts in the FBI and the army,” he said. “That’s a plus. Several of our contracts are with the military and government officials. You’ll fit well into ARC. There’s only one formality left. You need to take a physical.”
She’d been dreading this moment. “I can provide a document from my private doctor saying that I’m fit for duty.”
“Tell me why you left the army, Gennie.”
“I was a captain in Afghanistan, working with the Army Corps of Engineers. We were constructing a school in a remote village when we accidentally set off an explosive device.” Though she’d told this story a hundred times, the words still triggered a rage deep inside. Her work crew had been betrayed. They never found out who was responsible for the bomb, but she blamed herself. She should have known better, should have made smarter decisions. Because she’d been careless, four friends had been killed in that explosion. And she would never stop being angry. “I was injured and evacuated.”