Undercover Soldier

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Let’s just say I like to use my computer and smart phones,” she responded with a smile. “Getting people in trouble is an added benefit.” Her gaze wandered until it lit on the stranger beside Michael. “Hi.” She held out her right hand, wincing as she moved. Unsurprisingly, her wound must hurt. “I’m Sherra Alexander,” she said.

  “I know,” said the other man, a tall, broad African American dressed in a gray suit. “I’m Kennard Murcia, undersecretary of defense for government contracts.”

  “Ragar’s boss?” Sherra looked at him suspiciously.

  “That’s right. We’re currently conducting an investigation into our procedures and his activities.”

  “Like shooting me?” she demanded.

  “Like allegedly shooting you,” he responded, which drew a glare from Sherra.

  “What, you think I did it myself? Or that Brody did it? Look, Mr. Murcia, that man has done a lot of damage, including being involved in the attempt on Brody’s life that claimed Brody Andrews’s instead. And—”

  “Conducting an official investigation is a necessary formality, Sherra,” Brody said gently, stepping closer and taking her free hand. “But with all the information you’ve gathered, plus the way it’ll lead to other evidence, I’m sure justice will be served.”

  “Meaning that Mr. Ragar will go to prison for the rest of his life?” She regarded him with a dubious frown.

  “If that’s where the evidence leads, then, yes,” Murcia concurred. “And considering the confrontation you just had with him, and the evidence against Michael, here, that appears manufactured, plus everything else that’s been alleged, I think we can assume Mr. Ragar will be charged and most likely convicted of some pretty heinous crimes.”

  “Like murder and attempted murder.” Sherra nodded her head while squeezing Brody’s hand more tightly. “And conspiracy with All For Defense, and maybe even treason?”

  “Maybe.” The undersecretary’s smile held both humor and exasperation. “If the facts are as they appear to be, the Department of Defense owes you both an apology and a debt of gratitude.”

  Sherra seemed to relax, although her grip didn’t. “They’re what they seem,” she affirmed.

  She looked tired and fragile, as if all energy had been drained from her by this conversation. “I think we should go now,” Brody told the other men.

  “Fine,” Murcia said. “I mostly wanted us to touch base with both of you to let you know the status of what’s going on.”

  “And to see if I look like some kind of lying witch,” Sherra retorted, although her tone was soft, her words slurred with exhaustion.

  “You don’t,” Michael Cortez told her. “And my main purpose for coming was to thank you. We’ve never met in person before, but despite what you initially tossed at me you may have saved my butt.”

  Brody hustled them out. When they were gone, he returned to Sherra’s room. This ordeal finally seemed to be nearing its conclusion.

  It was about time. Brody felt furious, both with the system and himself. He’d been used. Fooled so Ragar and friends could keep an eye on him and control him. Even as he had thought he’d made sure that all people he’d be working with had been vetted.

  Problem was, the system allowed them to, in effect, vet and approve themselves. That’s how Ragar, who’d been in charge, had hidden his own involvement so well.

  Brody had attempted to protect Sherra, since they’d wanted to bring her in, too—and not even that had gone well. At least she was alive.

  Now, Brody wasn’t certain where his military career would go from here. Where he wanted it to go. But after all he had put Sherra through, and with all the nasty inquiries people who would be defending Ragar were likely to inflict on her, he doubted she would want to keep in touch with him again any more than she had before she’d thought him dead.

  The thought of losing her from his life yet again seemed even more painful now than the first time.

  “Brody?” came a soft whisper from below him. He looked down.

  Sherra’s eyes were barely open, but she was looking at him.

  “Yes?” he asked softly.

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “Of course,” he said. For today.

  But tomorrow, and the tomorrows after that? He doubted that she would want him around when she was herself once more.

  And he still had to figure out what was next in his life.

  * * *

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Miles hovered around Sherra, who sat at the desk in her office for the first time in more than two weeks.

  It was a Monday morning. She had only stayed in the hospital a couple of days, then had gone home to recuperate. Brody came with her and hung out for a while, but she healed well. Her shoulder remained sore, but she was otherwise okay.

  Physically, at least.

  Brody had left her life again.

  “I’m fine,” she reassured Miles, who sat his lanky form down on the chair across from her. “I’m still taking it easy, but as long as I keep my fingers near the keyboard I don’t move my shoulder much.”

  “Good.”

  She turned to smile at him—a friendly look, but not too friendly.

  Even so, he continued, “I’d be glad to drive you home tonight. We can grab dinner. You shouldn’t try cooking, even for yourself, for a while.” His soft blue eyes were hopeful.

  “Not tonight,” she said. Guilt surged through her at his sad expression. She didn’t want to lead him on, but there wasn’t anything between them.

  Would never be, even with Brody out of her life.

  He had spoiled her for most men. Maybe someday she’d reconsider, but at the moment a new relationship was out of the question—especially with a nice but geeky guy like Miles.

  Fortunately, before she had to say anything else, Vic popped into her office, followed by Phoebe. Her tall, heavy boss looked at her from beneath his thick gray brows and said, “I heard you were finally back, Sherra. Welcome. I’ll give you this morning to catch up. Come see me at one this afternoon and I’ll talk to you about what I want you to research next for CMHealthfoods.”

  Behind him, Sherra’s secretary rolled her eyes. “Now, Vic,” she said, “let her ease back into everything gradually. The poor thing has been injured.” Phoebe was always the mother hen and Sherra had never appreciated it more than now. She shot a look of gratitude to the middle-age woman who’d crossed her arms over her ample chest.

  “Well, come see me,” Vic insisted. “You can tell me if I’m pushing too hard.”

  They all departed her office a few minutes later, leaving Sherra alone with hundreds of unopened emails and her thoughts.

  She tried concentrating on her work, but her mind kept returning to her situation. She’d been visited in the hospital by some additional government suits who’d made it clear they knew about her hacking into secure sites—and that she’d better never do that again or there’d be severe consequences. This time they’d let it go because of the useful results.

  Her hacking days—at least into government sites—were through.

  Mostly, though, she thought about Brody.

  And his absence from her life for the past four days that promised to stretch into forever.

  She’d expected it, of course. Although the investigation into All For Defense and John Ragar’s apparent nefarious affiliation with it continued, Brody’s undercover work as Jim Martin was no longer necessary. He was still in the milita
ry, though, and about to be assigned somewhere else.

  His choice of a career had split them up before. It would again now. She wasn’t the same person who’d felt better breaking up with him than not knowing when or if she’d see him next. But they still led very different lives.

  With his background, another kind of covert operation was likely. Something he’d never be able to tell her about even if they kept in touch.

  Which they had so far—by phone. She didn’t know where he was and he hadn’t been specific.

  Maybe she could have tracked him down using her skills and technology, but she wasn’t about to do that. Not now.

  She knew he was alive. And if he wanted to remain out of her life once and for all, then so be it.

  * * *

  It was past six o’clock. Sherra hadn’t planned on staying at work so late on her first day back, but she’d gotten caught up in her emails.

  A good thing, too. They kept her mind occupied.

  But she’d eventually left. She had stopped on her way home to pick up dinner. No turkey burger this time, which she thought of, though—and how it reminded her of the night Brody reappeared in her life.

  No, this time she had a chicken sub with lots of cheese and lettuce. She would eat it in front of her TV, veg out for as long as she could stay awake, and then head for bed.

  Alone. In one of the beds where she had spent some sexy time with Brody that she would always remember.

  Unlocking the door to her condo, she hurried down the dimly lit hallway into her kitchen. She gingerly put her handbag onto the seat of a chair, careful not to hurt her shoulder. She had worn a dark green pantsuit with a lemon-colored shirt that was easy to button to work today and hung her jacket on the back of the chair. She kept her flat shoes on.

  She considered a glass of wine, then decided against it. It would only make her sleepy faster.

  She heard a sound. And froze.

  Could it be Brody? But it might be some cohort of Ragar’s who’d gotten away and wanted revenge. She’d have to get out and—

  “Hello, Sherra.” Brody stood in her kitchen doorway, aiming one of his sexiest smiles at her.

  Despite the way her heart leaped in delight, she scowled. “Damn it, Brody, you scared me. Again. Why didn’t you call? Or—”

  He had crossed the kitchen and pulled her carefully into his arms. He stifled the rest of her complaint by pressing his mouth on hers so hard that it took her breath away. Or maybe it was his kiss that made her nearly faint with pleasure. Or the surge of heat that wafted through her body, settling in her most sensitive areas.

  She didn’t pull away despite the slight twinge of pain in her shoulder. Instead she pressed closer. Let her lips and tongue duel with his in a kiss full of heat and promise.

  Soon, though, he lifted his mouth from hers. She looked up at him, at his angular features and amber eyes that she knew so well.

  “What are you doing here?” she managed to whisper, irritated that her tone wasn’t harsher. She was angry with him.

  Or wanted to be.

  “Do you have enough dinner to share with me?” His grin told her he was just trying to rile her some more.

  “Only if you give me some answers.”

  “Okay, how’s this one. I’m staying in the D.C. area, probably permanently.”

  “Really?” Sherra hated that her voice came out in an excited squeal. “I mean, what will you be doing?”

  Keeping his arm around her, he led her to the kitchen table and gestured for her to sit down. He did the same, on the chair nearest hers. “I’m about to become Kennard Murcia’s gofer, the assistant to the undersecretary of defense for government contracts.”

  He looked so pleased with himself that she smiled and reached out for his hand. “You’re taking Ragar’s position?”

  “Yep. It looks like he won’t be available for a long, long time. Probably forever, if all the charges about to be brought against him stick.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Sherra’s mind was reeling. So was her heart. Brody was here, in her condo. He was going to be living in the general area. The Pentagon, near Arlington, Virginia, wasn’t very far from Bethesda, Maryland.

  “I’ve already contacted my parents and brother, let them know I’m okay and will be visiting with them here soon. They were pretty happy.”

  She could only smile at that. Of course they were happy.

  “So, I’ll need a place to live,” he continued, “and I was wondering if you’d want a roommate. The commute won’t be too bad from here. I’d be willing to share expenses, of course. And if you’re up for it and things work out, someday we can turn it into a permanent arrangement.”

  “Permanent, like—”

  The smile vanished from his face, replaced by something that Sherra had never seen before—a kind of expression that radiated passion and intensity and more.

  “Like, I love you, Sherra. I want to marry you, be with you forever.”

  “Oh, Brody,” she whispered, rising to her feet. He did the same.

  This time their kiss was softer, less passionate—but full of commitment.

  When it ended, she again looked at him. “For once I definitely agree with your plans, Brody McAndrews.”

  She was chagrinned to see his face fall, if only a little. “One thing I want to do straightaway, now that I won’t have to keep my own identity a secret any longer, is to look up Brody Andrews’s real family. Visit them, and tell them what happened so that maybe they can get some closure.”

  “I’ll help you find them,” she said firmly, “although the information should be readily available through your official Department of Defense records.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll come with you, if you’d like. The meeting will be difficult, but maybe I can help.”

  He drew her even closer, if that was possible. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Sherra. You like to dig in and help—even when your help can get you into trouble. Fortunately this time, even though the assignment is sad, it should be safe.”

  “I hope so. Now, I think you’ve met your end of our deal.”

  “Deal?”

  “About dinner. Want half a chicken sub?”

  “Sounds good. Only, I want to rev up my appetite first with a little exercise.” He rubbed against her, and she could feel what kind of exercise he had in mind.

  “I like that idea.” She moved away, grabbed his hand and led him to her bedroom—for their first night of forever.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Mercenary's Perfect Mission by Carla Cassidy!

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.

  You want sparks to fly! Harlequin Romantic Suspense stories deliver, with strong and adventurous women, brave and powerful men and the life-and-death situations that bring them together.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Chapter 1

  The Wyoming woods atop the tall mountains that cradled the town of Cold Plains were just beginning to take on a fall cast of color. This worked perfec
tly with the camouflage long-sleeved T-shirt and pants that Micah Grayson wore as he made his way through the thick brush and trees.

  Although a gun holster rode his shoulder, he held his gun tight in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only been hiding out in the mountainous woods for two days and nights, he’d quickly learned that danger could come in the blink of an eye, a danger that might require the quick tic of his index finger on the trigger.

  Twilight had long ago fallen but a near-full moon overhead worked as an additional enemy when it came to using the shield of darkness for cover.

  As an ex-mercenary, Micah knew how to learn the terrain and use the weather to his advantage. He knew how to keep the reflection of the moonlight off his skin so as not to alert anyone to his presence. He could move through a bed of dry leaves and not make a sound. He could be wearing a black suit in a snowstorm and still figure out a way to become invisible.

  The first twenty-four hours that he’d been in the woods he’d learned natural landmarks, studied pitfalls and figured out places he thought would make good hidey-holes if needed. He’d also come face-to-face with a moose, heard the distant call of a wolf and seen several elk and deer.

  He now moved with the stealth of a big cat toward the rocky cliff he’d discovered the night before. As he crept low and light on his feet, he kept alert, his ears open for any alien sound that might not belong to the forest.

  Despite the relative coolness of the night, a trickle of sweat trekked down the center of his back. During his thirty-eight years of life, Micah had faced a thousand life-threatening situations, the latest of which had been a bullet to his head that had sent him into a coma for months.

  When he finally reached the rocky bluff he looked down at the lights dotting the little valley, the lights of the small town of Cold Plains, Wyoming. His brother Samuel’s town. Micah reached up and touched the scar, now barely discernible through his thick dark hair on the left side of his head, the place where Samuel’s henchman, Dax Roberts, had shot him while Micah had sat in his car. Dax had left him for dead.