The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  She hated this whole depressing project of exploring homelessness in Seattle. Her editor wanted to showcase the new face of homelessness—returning military veterans. Emily disagreed. The ratings for the evening show proved Emily was correct.

  Viewers needed uplifting stories like the story about Dr. Grayce Walters, a veterinarian who communicated with animals. Seattleites loved animals and other-worldliness. Dr. Walters was Emily’s ticket to the anchor spot.

  Emily resigned herself to another day of dispiriting stories. She hadn’t gotten this far at KZOQ by going against the flow.

  She shook her head, still trying to undo the wind damage. Futile. The VA medical complex, renowned for its treatment of war-scarred vets, served as the backdrop for the interview.

  Emily forced a smile and walked over to greet today’s family. Angie Hines, just returned from her latest deployment in Afghanistan, had disappeared after treatment for PTSD at the VA facility on Beacon Hill.

  Angie’s mother, dressed in her post office uniform, looked brittle, ready to shatter. The brother stood erect, definitely ex-military. His angular face registered no emotion, only steely control.

  The mother might not be able to keep it together in front of the camera. Her editor wanted the woman’s angle, working mom with a missing daughter—a little emotion was great, but too much meant they would have to reshoot.

  She shook Mrs. Hines’ hands. “I am sorry to bring you out in this rain.” Emily ground her teeth together in another smile. “There is nothing to be nervous about. I’ll ask you the questions we’ve already reviewed.”

  Mrs. Hines, a twisted Kleenex clutched in her hand, managed a half-hearted nod. The brother had the chiseled good looks to make it on TV.

  “Just to make sure I’m clear on my facts, Angie graduated from Cleveland High School and then enlisted in the army. Is that correct?”

  “There was no way of stopping Angie once she got an idea in her head.” Mrs. Hines shook her head.

  Angie’s brother, Hunter Hines, showed no reaction.

  “Something bad has happened to my daughter. She would never leave Ossie.”

  Emily hadn’t heard about Ossie in the preliminary interview. “Who’s Ossie?”

  Hunter spoke, his voice a deep baritone, “Ossie is Angie’s cat.”

  The mother swallowed a sob. “If that cat could talk, we would know what really happened.”

  Emily never believed in the idea of serendipity. “I know of a veterinarian in Seattle who is able to communicate with animals. Dr. Walters might be able to help you.”

  Emily ignored the force of the brother’s cold inspection. She took Mrs. Hines’ hand. “I’d be happy to set it up for you.”

  Mrs. Hines had just provided the missing part of the equation for Emily’s nightly spot with the veterinarian. She and Dr. Walters would help animals reunite with their missing owners.

  In the newspaper article about her helping the fire department, Dr. Grayce Walters came across as a very attractive and highly intelligent woman.

  How could the doctor turn down Angie Hines’ family? How could the doctor not want to be a celebrity? Dr. Grayce Walters would have fame and fortune. What else could a woman want?

  Women Under Fire

  Book Two in the

  Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

  by

  Jacki Delecki

  Life has heated up for Grayce Walters: thrust into the public eye and hounded by the media after solving an arson case with a critical clue from a French Poodle. When Ewan Davis, the sexy arson investigator Grayce has been steaming things up with, starts talking commitment, she definitely feels the burn.

  Then a desperate mother begs Grayce to help find her missing daughter—an Afghanistan war veteran suffering from PTSD, and Grayce reluctantly takes on the case, following a disturbing clue provided by the missing young woman’s cat. Calling once again on the aid of her cross-dressing best friend and her shrewd assistant, Grayce uncovers a terrorist plot with chilling international implications.

  Grayce races to rescue the young veteran before the escalating danger explodes. But if she manages to escape the threat, will she find the courage to commit to the fiery passion that awaits her wrapped in Davis’s arms?

  Prologue

  Angie stood motionless in the shadow of a misshapen cypress tree. The setting summer sun of Seattle didn’t relieve the cold frisson of danger or the press of her revolver’s cold metal against her skin. Although it had been months since her last reconnaissance mission, her body recognized the drill and tightened into high alert.

  Splatters of fading sunlight danced across the sagging house. Official yellow tape was wrapped around the turn of the century beauty like a Christmas bow on a crushed, forgotten present. A “condemned” sign was nailed to the warped door. The crumbling front steps looked like their weight bearing days were a distant memory.

  Not sure how to proceed, she waited and watched the abandoned house in the residential Ravenna neighborhood until it got dark. Should she take the squatters unaware? Surprise Maddy before she could run?

  She moved from her hiding place to investigate the back of the house. The yard was littered with broken glass, smashed Styrofoam carryout containers, and plastic bags mired in mud from the wet Northwest summer. She stepped over the yellow tape that was haphazardly hung around the back steps, turned the handle, and then pulled open the back door. It was unlocked. The rusting hinges screeched.

  “Maddy, it’s Angie from your VA group.” She reverted to her forceful military command voice. “I’m coming in.”

  When the door was thrown wide open, small dark bodies—rats—scurried away. Dread raced down her spine into the tips of her toes. God, she hated rats. This rat hole was worse than anything she had seen during her tours of duty in Afghanistan.

  She stepped gingerly over the bags of garbage strewn on the uneven linoleum floor. The smell of the years of neglect and black mold hit her sensitive nose. She tried not to breathe. All of her senses heightened in the darkness, an internal radar honed from door-to-door urban combat. She took another two steps, listening for sounds other than the resident rodents.

  “It’s Angie from your VA group.” She wasn’t too worried about handling a high Maddy, but handling her companions might get tricky. After eight years as a Marine, she was used to tricky. And after everything Maddy had gone through in Afghanistan, Angie wasn’t about to let her friend descend into another hell.

  She reached in the pocket of her jeans for her tiny penlight as she walked into the dark dining room. The light of her flashlight reflected back at her from a cracked mirror hanging over the fireplace, then a sudden, shiny motion. Before she could react, a bright burst of pain exploded in her head. She fought against overpowering blackness.

  * * *

  Brandon knew his lair had been invaded. The back door was ajar. The yellow “condemned” tape had been disrupted. Trespassers!

  He heard her before he saw her. She was shouting that she was “Angie from the VA.”

  Another fucking bitch intruding. Women were always invading his space. Outrage surged through him.

  “Keep it together…keep it together…” He repeated the words to himself. His therapist had taught him to use words to pace himself before he acted.

  Taking the heavy flashlight from its hiding place behind the refrigerator, he stepped softly into the dining room. He edged around the bags to avoid alerting the intruder to his presence.

  A tall woman in a camouflage jacket was bending over, inspecting something on the floor.

  Why was a single soldier from the VA hospital searching his house? If the authorities had been alerted about the amount of RDX he had stored here, the entire King County Swat team would’ve been surrounding the house, with help from those ATF Keystone commandos. If you could call that help.

  He had no choice. He needed time to clear out.

  He cautiously took two steps to stand over her. He slowly raised the flashlight, and
she gasped, seeing his reflection in the old mirror that Brandon knew hung over the fireplace. Using his advantage, he swung in a wide arc and bashed the back of her head with all his strength.

  Chapter One

  Ambushed by Aunt Aideen, Grayce Walters was trapped. The bonds of social pressure gripped tighter around her wrists and ankles, holding her captive in the kitchen chair. She couldn’t escape tonight’s séance.

  Dressed in a flowing cobalt-blue caftan, Aunt Aideen ceremoniously placed a scarred, black box on the table and then carefully opened a chest lined in red velvet and raised a glimmering crystal ball into the air. “This Keek-Stane has been passed down through generations of Scottish witches.”

  The enormous kitchen suddenly went airless. Grayce gulped for a breath. Mitzi, who had been sleeping under the table, protectively covered Grayce’s feet with her paws.

  Grayce knew nothing about tarot cards or witches. Why hadn’t Davis warned her that his aunt considered herself a witch? Grayce had recognized Aunt Aideen as a gifted intuitive, but not a witch, whatever that meant.

  Aunt Aideen placed the ball in the center of the table spread with tarot cards. “The Keek-Stane guides me in the reading of the cards.”

  A call to a suspicious fire had interrupted the cozy dinner with her boyfriend, his aunt and dog. If Davis had stayed, she’d be eating dessert instead of having a metaphysical experience.

  Aunt Aideen’s enormous moonstone ring flickered in the candlelight as her hand hovered over the cards. “We must look to the future.”

  Grayce couldn’t see the card. She felt light-headed from the burning sweet flag incense or from the ominous energy swirling from the crystal ball.

  As she turned over the first tarot card, the large woman’s usual booming voice grew quiet with a mysterious Gaelic lilt. “The Knight of Swords.”

  Prickly sensations lifted the fine hair on Grayce’s neck. Mitzi came from under the table and sat next to Grayce’s chair.

  Aunt Aideen opened her massive hand to allow Grayce to see the card—a medieval knight in armor on a powerful white horse rode toward a battle in the distance. The horse’s harness was decorated with butterflies and birds. The sky behind him was filled with storm clouds and the trees, tossed wildly by the wind. The knight resembled St. Michael the Archangel.

  “The Knight of Swords is hard to resist,” Aunt Aideen intoned.

  Davis obviously fit the Knight of Swords. His commanding presence, physical strength, and his commitment to fight crimes made him the perfect archetypal hero.

  Heat moved across Grayce’s cheeks in embarrassment. “Davis was hard to resist.” Grayce knew first hand. As a witness to arson, she had been interviewed by the sexy fire investigator and had fallen in love with the irresistible man.

  “My nephew, Ewan Davis, is in no way a Knight of Swords. Davis is an Emperor, a man of the logical world, like his Scottish forebears. The Knight of Swords is a messenger, a call for adventure. He does not see, nor does he care about risks or dangers and instead moves forward with his strong determination and strength to succeed, no matter what.

  Grayce wasn’t going to discuss Davis’ ability as an adventurous lover with the aunt who had raised him after his mother’s death.

  “The knight will call to you from your dreams.” Aunt Aideen’s solemn voice and the shimmering moonstone known for clairvoyance were doing strange things to Grayce’s perceptions. The images in the room faded in and out. The heightened energy from the ball moved in undulating waves.

  “His call will challenge you to leave your present way of being.” Aunt Aideen’s eyes were in the shadows, but Grayce felt her focused stare. “The Knight of Swords can also be seen as a warning.”

  With the soft burr of Aunt Aideen’s Scottish inflection, the wavering candlelight and the nutty scent of sweet flag, Grayce was floating into deep relaxation.

  Aunt Aideen’s voice lost its soothing rhythm. “And it doesn’t take a seer to predict that Davis will have trouble with the knight’s appearance in your life. Davis needs to be your protector.”

  Grayce came immediately out of her meditative state. Davis tried very hard to control his fear of unforeseen disasters by guarding all those he loved.

  “Does the knight have to be human? Maybe I’ll have a new patient?” Grayce asked.

  Aunt Aideen kept her eyes closed. Her muted voice was firm. “I see a tall, dark man in a uniform. He holds a gun.”

  Shivers of fear danced on Grayce’s skin.

  Aunt Aideen’s lowered voice vibrated with intensity. “I see difficulty and danger ahead for you and Davis.”

  Alarm rushed through Grayce, making her legs rubbery and weak behind her knees although she was seated. Mitzi pushed her cold wet nose against Grayce’s hand. Aunt Aideen wasn’t the kind of woman to predict gloom and doom.

  Aunt Aideen’s head was bent. Her hands floated above the table then stilled over a card. “As I suspected, the High Priestess card.” The moonstone flashed, sending sparks of light across the raised card. The High Priestess was seated on a throne, a blond Madonna wrapped in blue moonlight.

  With her eyes closed, Aunt Aideen placed her hand with the moonstone ring on the High Priestess card. “You will accept the knight’s dangerous adventure and restore the needed balance in a disturbed world.” Aunt Aideen’s fierce voice pulsed in the room.

  Grayce’s intuition flared. She had the same foreboding, a prescience of danger just like before she had tangled with the Russian mob. She fought against the rising dread. “I’m leaving the danger to Davis. The arson case was enough violence for a lifetime.”

  “The cards don’t lie.” Aunt Aideen’s strident tone reverberated in Grayce’s head.

  Grayce had visions, but she never shared them with anyone. She’s never dared to predict the future. Life was expected to be complicated—especially when facing a big decision—or maybe something even more dangerous… But what good could come of knowing ahead of time that suffering and pain were going to overwhelm your life?

  Aunt Aideen opened her eyes and looked around the room as if she didn’t recognize her own Italian tiled kitchen. She looked at Grayce for a second as if she didn’t recognize her either.

  Aunt Aideen had been in a deep trance when she made her predictions. The older woman had spent years studying the ancient practices in Tibet and India.

  “Would you like me to get you something? A glass of water?” Grayce asked.

  “No thank you. I’m exhausted. Your cards are very intense.” The older woman stood quickly, but her hand trembled when she placed the crystal ball in the box. “Enough perilous predictions for tonight. Davis is going to be very unhappy with me.”

  Davis wouldn’t be mad at the aunt he loved. He teased her about the tarot card readings because he didn’t know his aunt was a gifted seer.

  “Let me walk you to the door.” Aunt Aideen gestured to the door. They walked in silence except for the sound of Mitzi’s nails clicking on the tiled floor.

  Like her nephew, Aunt Aideen was over six feet tall and had to bend to hug Grayce. “The predictions will help you prepare. You are very strong. You and Davis will protect each other in the approaching storm.”

  Chapter Two

  Grayce sipped the warm Diet Coke, straight from the hidden stash in the desk drawer in her animal acupuncture office. After Aunt Aideen’s predictions and the subsequent nightmares, she was in need of a fix—the familiar comfort of the miracle elixir.

  Hollie, her office assistant, emerged through the open door before Grayce could hide the can. “Drinking Diet Coke? What’s wrong?”

  Wearing black leggings, black military boots, and a black World of Warfare t-shirt with an avenging goddess in flames, Hollie looked like one of the characters out of her favorite video game. “It’s the missing woman that’s got you upset, isn’t it? You shouldn’t have agreed to see the cat.”

  “I haven’t seen that t-shirt before. Did you design it?”

  “You should never have let that
Chow bitch browbeat you.”

  From a shelter for runaway youths, Hollie was a bit rough around the edges, but her gentle heart made up for her brashness.

  Grayce arched her eyebrow in reaction to the word “bitch”, before she realized that she was mimicking her office assistant. She wanted to laugh out loud at the reversal of roles. Hollie, a young woman of few words, expressed her displeasure by rolling her eyes or arching one of her pierced eyebrows.

  “Okay, okay. Chow”—Hollie’s head bobbed back and forth in disdain—“doesn’t care about Mrs. Hines’ suffering or the missing daughter. That two bit…reporter only cares about her story.”

  Grayce’s unique role as an animal acupuncturist who collaborated with the fire department in an arson investigation had been covered in the local press and TV. Emily Chow, a newscaster, had convinced Mrs. Hines that Grayce could find her daughter, who was suffering from PTSD and had disappeared on the streets of Seattle.

  “Regardless of our sentiments toward Emily Chow, I want to help Mrs. Hines.”

  Hollie rolled her dark expressive eyes.

  “How about the rest of the day? Any surprises?”

  “Mrs. Leary is bringing her new rescue cat at the end of the afternoon. She insisted that you not give her special treatment by making a house visit. She said it was good for her to get out.”

  Grayce had treated the elderly woman’s dying cat several months before and was glad to hear that after Beowulf’s death, Mrs. Leary had decided to allow a new cat into her life. A familiar male voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Do I count as a surprise?” Davis leaned against the doorway.

  Dressed in a sleek designer suit and tie with his arms crossed, Davis was as gorgeous as James Bond in a tuxedo. Staring like a teenage groupie, she snapped her mouth closed when she realized it hung open. His fitted black suit, crisp ivory shirt, and knotted tie were at odds with his rawboned, rugged looks. He was every woman’s fantasy of the barely tamed, dangerous, bad boy.