Major Attraction

by Julie Miller

  The hope drained out of her on a long, waning sigh.

  She took stock of her surroundings and grabbed hold of some common sense. Ethan was miles away. What could he do to help, even if he did hear her plea?

  Her voice was clipped, almost businesslike now as she steeled herself to fight her own battle. “I’m sorry. Forget all that. I know you must be needed there. I hope Travis is okay. I’m sure you’re busy. Tired. Worried. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I didn’t mean to freak out. It’s just late. I’m going home to get some sleep. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  She severed the connection, then turned off the phone completely. She didn’t want to deal with any other calls right now. Not from her stalker. Not from Ethan. She couldn’t handle the drama.

  Instead she stuffed everything back into her bag. She probably ought to take her own advice and go get some sleep. Norman would be on duty. He could walk her up to her apartment and check for intruders before she locked herself in.

  She picked up the armed forces recruitment brochures from Ben’s desk. There was no need to stuff these back into her bag. She was done gathering information for her articles. Besides, the man pictured on the cover, with his dark blue dress coat and nickel-plated sword, reminded her of another tall, broad, well-postured Marine whom she didn’t want to be missing any more than she had to tonight.

  With a quick glance around the offices, she hurried back to her file cabinet and opened the middle drawer. She quickly thumbed through the folders, “M. Military.”

  She pulled out the folder to drop the brochures inside and paused. J.C. peeked over her shoulder as the creeping sense of being watched kicked in again. She looked back at the open folder.

  The same brochures were already inside.

  She normally asked Ben to assist with her research, but why was he duplicating her efforts? Or had her columns triggered an interest in signing up for the military? With Ben’s interest in computers and other sorts of electronic gadgets, there was bound to be some sort of program that would pay him to get the education he wanted in exchange for serving a few years in the service.

  Maybe it was just a freaky coincidence. Chunky Ben with the thick glasses and sweet demeanor certainly didn’t seem the military type.

  She shook her head, wondering why she was debating this at all.

  “Go home, J.C.,” she advised herself. “Just go home.”

  She tossed the brochures back on to Ben’s desk, grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator.

  After that phone call, anything and everything was going to look suspicious to her.

  ETHAN MARKED OFF the entire length of the hospital corridor as he listened to J.C.’s message a second time. Her fear, her pigheaded strength—her lack of faith in him—all came through loud and clear in her voice.

  He spun a neat 180 and paced back toward Travis’s private room.

  I need you.

  He needed her, too. He needed her to be safe. I’ve been thinking about you all day. He needed to hear those words again. He needed her to believe he was there for her, even though they were miles apart.

  But, damn, she was a hard sell. The last line of her message said it all.

  “No, you cannot take care of this yourself. Stop saying that!” He quickly dialed her number. “Answer the damn phone!”

  Of course. He couldn’t blame her for turning off her cell if that bastard had called her and made some kind of threat. And what office was she talking about? Where did she meet with and advise her clients? She’d never said.

  Ultimately he had to settle for the same frustrating means of communication she had. He left a message. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, honey. Keep your doors locked and don’t let yourself be alone with anyone, anywhere. Especially after dark. Hell, don’t go out after dark. Double hell. I’ll be there before dark. I will be there.”

  “Is there a problem, son?”

  Retired Brigadier General Hal McCormick met Ethan in the doorway to Travis’s room. He still wore his blond hair as short as the day he’d received his commission, though there was considerably more gray on top now.

  Ethan looked into his father’s weary eyes. “No, sir.”

  “Then why are you cussing out your phone?”

  “I’m not.” He made sure it was turned on and slipped it into his pocket. “I was trying to reach J.C. But there’s no answer.”

  “And J.C. would be…?”

  “She’s a girl. Josephine Gardner.” Ethan let the door close behind him and dropped the volume of his voice so as not to disturb the conversation Travis was having with their younger sister, Caitlin. “A woman I’ve been seeing. She’s, um—”

  Travis might never be too far out of it to offer up a smart remark. “She’s that hot chick he met in the bar and gave Mom’s ring to.”

  “What?” Hal was justifiably shocked by the news. “Your mother’s ring?”

  Ethan strode to the foot of the bed and glared at his brother. Travis wore bandages along his jaw, on both arms, his torso and his right leg. His left leg was encased in a cast, sewn together with more than a dozen steel pins, and elevated with a complex set of cords and pulleys.

  But the son of a gun was smiling. So whether it was painkillers or positive attitude talking, he deserved a little ribbing for opening his trap. “Excuse me, but the doctor said you’re supposed to take it easy, not poke your nose into my business.”

  “Hey, my leg’s busted up, not my hearing. You shouldn’t have confessed how you feel about her when I was in the recovery room if you didn’t want me to hear.”

  “You were still under the effects of the anesthesia. I was talking to pass the time.”

  “It was entertaining to hear you trying to make sense of something that makes no sense.”

  Ignoring the argument, Hal joined them, his tension visibly relieved. “So you’re serious about this girl.”

  “Ethan, that’s wonderful.” Caitlin unfolded her long legs from the seat beside the bed and gave her oldest brother a hug. “It’s about time you decided to have a personal life.”

  Travis grinned from ear to ear. Apparently focusing on someone else’s problem was good therapy for him. “Oh, he’s serious enough. Been spending all his free time with her from what I hear. He just doesn’t want to rush things because, despite her impulsiveness, J.C. isn’t the type of woman who can be rushed. Seems she has some pretty stubborn opinions.”

  Now Caitlin was getting into it. She winked at Ethan. “Gee. Who does that sound like?”

  Ethan would have laid Travis out if he wasn’t already stuck in a bed. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

  Travis shrugged, then winced in pain. “What are you still doing here, big brother? She needs you.”

  I need you. Ethan felt a siren call to get back to J.C. as quickly as he could. Not just to put an end to those messages meant to intimidate her. But to love her. To make love to her. To prove to her once and for all that the reason they were so good in bed together was because…they were good together.

  But he had a responsibility to his family, too. “I thought I was looking out for you.”

  “I’ve got the finest doctors in the country looking out for me now. And if they can’t cut it, these two will keep me in line.” Travis’s expression got surprisingly serious. “I panicked when they first brought me in. I was hurtin’ so bad I couldn’t see beyond the moment. I needed that ass-whippin’ you promised me to get my head on straight.”

  Travis hadn’t listened to sympathetic pleas, but like a true Marine, he’d responded to Ethan’s stern reminder about duty to his country, his family and himself. His positive attitude could make the difference in his recovery, according to the surgeons who’d pieced him back together.

  “You’d have come around soon enough,” Ethan assured him.

  His brother waved aside the support. “I’m going to do more than walk again, Ethan,” he vowed. “I’m going to make it back to special forces. You’ll see.”


  Ethan’s heart pounded a little harder in his chest at Travis’s determined attitude. His bold confidence reminded Ethan of J.C. His feet shifted, as antsy as the rest of him to get back to her before she got the idea she really could get through life without him.

  Some of that emotion must have gotten out and shone on his face. Travis grinned. “What are you still doing here? Go.”

  Fine. He was going already. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Nothing a few months of physical therapy won’t cure. Don’t worry, bro. I’ll be back in action.”

  Ethan hugged his way around Caitlin to stand by Travis’s side. “Don’t push it too hard too soon. I like having you around. Even if you are a pain in the butt.” They shook hands. Even with an IV stuck in it, Travis’s grip was as firm as he remembered. “Take care.” The handshake became a hug.

  Then Travis pushed him away. “You know I will. Now go on, get out of here. Dismissed.”

  “I outrank you. You can’t dismiss me.”

  Hal McCormick wisely knew when to step in and stop his sons’ bickering. “I can. Dismissed, Marine. We’ll hold down the fort without you.”

  “Yes, sir.” The two men hugged. “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, son.”

  After one more round of goodbyes and assurances that Travis was in the clear for now, Ethan hurried out the door toward the parking lot.

  He was only vaguely aware of his father dashing out the door and calling down the hall after him. “Say, does this girl of yours like to fish? Your mother liked to fish.”

  “Dad!” He heard Caitlin dragging Hal back into the room. “You can’t stop him now.”

  No one could.

  Ethan McCormick was a man on a mission.

  QUANTICO, VIRGINIA, was a major training base for the United States Marine Corps, the FBI and other security agencies. With the huge number of recruits, training classes and working units to negotiate, it had taken him a lot longer than he’d anticipated to secure clearance and track down the man he was looking for.

  Corporal Juan Guerro.

  Ethan hadn’t taken time to put on his uniform or even shave. But there was no mistaking the rank and authority in his posture when the M.P. brought Guerro into the brig’s interrogation room.

  The black-haired man sported a pair of handcuffs, a split lip and a deer-in-the-headlights stare when he saw who was waiting for him. He charged the door as the M.P. closed it behind him. “Hey, you can’t leave me in here with this guy!”

  Ethan fully intended to take the cocky son of a bitch down a notch before he was through with him. Step one was making him understand he was a weasly coward.

  “Sit down, Corporal,” he ordered.

  With Ethan towering over him in both size and attitude, Guerro decided it was smarter to comply. “Yes, sir.”

  He nodded at Guerro’s lip. “I see somebody tried to bully you the same way you bullied my fiancée.”

  “I was just trying to reason with her, sir.” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as Ethan circled behind him. “I thought you were going to bust me. But she could make you see that that kiss was all just a misunderstanding.”

  Ethan snapped down beside Guerro’s ear. “You left bruises on her arm. I don’t understand that at all.”

  “I did? I’m sorry.” He was squirming now. “I didn’t mean to. I’m…sorry.”

  Straightening, Ethan continued slowly pacing around the table. He intended to stop J.C.’s troubles right here. “You will be. I’ve reported you to D.C.P.D. as well as the military police. Assault. Making terroristic threats. Willful destruction of property. Illegal possession and discharge of a firearm within the city limits—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?” Guerro danced in his chair, his bound wrists pleading for mercy. “I didn’t do half that stuff.”

  Ethan grabbed the opposite chair and flung it aside. Guerro jumped. Good. “Do you deny threatening J. C. Gardner so I wouldn’t make any trouble for you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You haven’t seen trouble yet, believe me.”

  “But I didn’t shoot anybody.”

  “You fired a flippin’ rock through the window of her apartment. I was there.”

  “No.”

  Ethan shoved the table out of the way. “You called her last night and threatened her.”

  Guerro lurched to his feet, knocked over his chair, backed into the wall. “No, sir. I didn’t. I swear.” Ethan kept coming. “Madre Dios, I didn’t call anybody. I got arrested for drunk and disorderly two nights ago. I haven’t been anywhere but my cell since then.”

  Ethan halted. He could smell Guerro’s fear. The man would be a fool to lie to his face. “You didn’t make any calls from the brig last night?”

  “No, sir. You can check with the guard. I did stop your fiancée that morning by the river. But that was the last time I talked to her. Hell, I’ve been locked up pretty much since I got back to the base.”

  “But if you didn’t…” Ethan barely voiced the thought out loud. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Sir?”

  But Ethan was already moving. He pounded on the door, alerting the officer outside before barging through. Guerro’s story checked out. His damn story checked out!

  Ethan cleared the gates and ran to his truck. He intended to make the drive into D.C. in record time. He intended to put his arms around J.C. and hold her as close as she’d let him.

  Because if Guerro wasn’t stalking J.C., that meant someone else was. Someone she’d never even suspect.

  Someone who was probably a lot closer to home.

  “NORMAN?”

  J.C. sat in her Camaro outside the gate to her apartment parking lot, wondering where the trusty watchdog who guarded her building so diligently had disappeared to. She’d honked her horn once, but didn’t want to raise too big a ruckus at this late hour.

  She could park on the street easily enough and walk in. But what was the point of having a secure building if she didn’t take advantage of it? Even if Norman was taking a break, he’d still be in the guardhouse. And if he’d gone inside to use the facilities, well, he wouldn’t be gone from his post this long.

  Unless something was wrong.

  J.C. killed the engine but left her headlights on to check outside. She’d worn a short-sleeved blouse with her slacks. But despite the sunny day, night had brought with it heavy cloud cover and ozone-scented air that threatened rain. The chilly breeze blowing off the river brushed across her bare arms and raised goose bumps.

  She rubbed at her chilled skin, wishing it wasn’t so late, wishing it wasn’t so damp, wishing she wasn’t so alone.

  Tonight she’d let Lee take her out after work, just to have the company. Ethan hadn’t called; he hadn’t come to see her. She’d jumped through hoops today, trying to stop the presses to delete or alter her columns. But she’d only been able to pull one. No doubt this morning’s exposé about how big a turnoff giving orders in the bedroom could be was less flattering than her caller wanted to see. But she’d run out of reasons to keep Lee up past her bedtime and had finally driven home.

  To an abandoned guardhouse and shadowy parking lot.

  She knocked on the door before peeking inside. “Norman?”

  Empty. Her breathing deepened in counterpoint to her quickening pulse. What if he’d taken ill or had a heart attack? What if he’d been mugged on his rounds? Was he lying unconscious between a couple of parked cars?

  J.C. went back to retrieve her phone and a flashlight. Then she shimmied under the locked gate and began her search. She checked the utility bathroom first. Empty and dark. Norman’s prolonged absence was reason enough to call the super. Maybe even the police.

  Flipping open her phone, she finally turned it on. Her voice mail was completely filled with Out of Area messages. She didn’t want to hear that voice again. Not here in the shadows. Not anywhere.

  But what if one of them was Ethan?

  Taking a chance,
seizing a tiny shred of hope, she pushed the button to let them play while she searched the lot with her flashlight, keeping well to the center of each row.

  “You stupid bitch. I warned you—”

  She deleted the message.

  “I tried to do this nice, but—”

  She hit delete.

  “I know where you live. You can’t—”

  Delete.

  “Where the hell are you, Norman?” She’d reached the far side of the lot, without so much as a candy wrapper to leave a trail to his whereabouts.

  She’d go back to her car. Park it on the street. Go inside and wake the super.

  “Dammit, J.C., pick up!” She stopped and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, squelching the ridiculous urge to laugh with joy or cry out with relief at the sound of Ethan’s stern voice. Stern. She frowned. More like angry. Desperate. And what was the whooshing sound of wind in the background of the recording? “Do not go out alone. Lock yourself in your car or your apartment or your office—wherever the hell that is. I’m coming for you. If anything happens before I get there, call the police. I did some investigating on my own. I talked with Guerro. He’s not the man who called you.”

  She’d had twenty messages on her phone. Someone had called.

  J.C. stumbled as adrenaline jerked through her body. Thunder rumbled in the distant sky, an ominous portent that shaded the warning in Ethan’s voice. She hurried toward her car, looking for something more in the shadows than her old pal Norm.

  “It’s nine o’clock. I’ll be at your apartment in an hour, tops. Be careful, Jo. And don’t be scared, honey. I’m coming.”

  The first drop of rain hit J.C.’s skin and she screamed as if someone had grabbed her.

  Ethan’s next message had been recorded a few minutes later. It repeated the warning. “I’m in the city now, hon. I’m coming.”

  Forget the phone. She was running now. Lightning split open the sky and the rain poured down. She turned the corner around the last car and ran for the gate. Straight into the headlights, sloshing in puddles. Goose bumps tightened her skin beneath a tense assault of lightning-charged air; cold, wet cotton and fear.