Dangerous Reunion

by Marilyn Pappano

  A second chance—under fire!

  At a bloody crime scene, Detective Ben Little Bear comes face-to-face with his painful past—and Yashi Baker. The prosecutor once loved him and betrayed his trust. He’s flooded with memories of how her biggest case ended her career and their relationship. Now as the two work together to find a missing family, the case draws them close again...until a kidnapper ups his deadly demands.

  A knock on the driver’s window startled her, drawing a shriek as she whirled about in the cramped space.

  Ben was standing there, bent down from his substantial height of six feet four inches to gaze in at her. He wore a slicker, the hood pulled over his head, but his face was streaked with rain, and he looked grim.

  “Oh, please, no.” The groan was torn from Yashi at the sight of him. Ben was stoic. He had the best poker face she’d ever seen. He rarely let his emotions show, particularly on the job. He was quiet and calm and studied, and no one could ever guess what he was thinking, but now—

  He pulled the door open a few inches and said in a flat voice, “Drive over to my house. I’ll talk to you there.”

  * * *

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  Dear Reader,

  When it comes to books, I’ll read pretty much anything—any genre, any subject, any trope. If asked, I would probably say I don’t have a favorite. As long as it has well-ordered words and tells a story, I’m a happy camper. But after a lifetime of reading anything—everything—I realized I do have a favorite.

  Women in jeopardy are intense, secret babies fun, cowboys heroes to die for. But what really makes my heart glad are reunion romances. Second chances. Once more finding that love you’d thought lost forever. Getting to right old wrongs and live happily-ever-after. I gravitate to those types of stories like my pupper is drawn to a tasty piece of broiled fish. (Yes, offer my dog a special doggy treat or fish and he’ll go for the fish every time. And then come back for the treat.)

  I love couples who have history and, boy, do Yashi and Ben have history. I knew in writing the other Cedar Creek books that Ben had a special heartache, but I didn’t know much else until Yashi popped into my head and poured out their story. Their love. Her betrayal. Throw in a few kittens, a bloodhound named Booger and all the usual Cedar Creek characters and my heart was downright dancing with gladness. I hope this book makes you take a twirl or two, too.

  Happy reading,

  Marilyn Pappano

  DANGEROUS REUNION

  Marilyn Pappano

  Oklahoma, dogs, beaches, books, family and friends: these are a few of Marilyn Pappano’s favorite things. She lives in imaginary worlds where she reigns supreme—at least, she does when the characters cooperate—and no matter how wrong things go, she can always set them right. It’s her husband’s job to keep her grounded in the real world, which makes him her very favorite thing.

  Books by Marilyn Pappano

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Copper Lake Secrets

  In the Enemy’s Arms

  Christmas Confidential

  “Holiday Protector”

  Copper Lake Confidential

  Copper Lake Encounter

  Undercover in Copper Lake

  Bayou Hero

  Nights with a Thief

  Detective Defender

  Killer Secrets

  Killer Smile

  Detective on the Hunt

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  As always, for Robert.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Excerpt from Shielded in the Shadows by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Chapter 1

  Though it was well after sunrise, the sky over Ben Little Bear’s house was barely lighter than midnight, so black and rain-filled were the clouds that hung low. No glimmer to the east hinted that the sun had risen, and no glimmer to the west suggested the rain would move on any time soon.

  Of course not. It was Saturday. His first day off in a week. Instead of mowing his yard, cutting firewood and going fishing with his cousins, he was going to stay home and...he didn’t know what he would do, besides the start he’d already made: sleeping in late and having a cup of coffee that he’d made himself, exactly the way he liked it.

  With a plate holding toast, ham and slices of tomato, he went onto the porch, to his favorite wicker chair that creaked when he sat in it, and found it already occupied. “I thought we talked about this.”

  The tiny gray cat looked up at him, his emerald eyes unblinking, before Ben shifted his gaze to the woman on whose lap Oliver sat. “I don’t mind picking you up when you’re drunk. I don’t mind you sleeping in the guest room until you sober up. But I do mind you making yourself and that cat at home in my chair.”

  Morwenna Armstrong gestured to three matching wicker chairs. “They’re all alike. How can this one be your favorite?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Heaving a sigh, she picked up Oliver and transferred him and herself to the next chair. “I’d make a clever comparison here between you and Dr. Sheldon Cooper on TV, but since you don’t even own a television, it wouldn’t be worth my time.”

  “But it was worth your time to tell me that?”

  She waved a hand dismissively.

  “You’re not hungry?”

  “Not until my head stops throbbing and my stomach settles down.”

  “My mother knows a hundred hangover cures.”

  “Any of them work?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had a hangover.” He put together a sandwich of toast and made a big show of taking a bite. Morwenna reacted by holding her hand to her face like a blinder and directing her attention very deliberately elsewhere.

  “Do you know your neighbors?”

  He didn’t need to ask which ones. For this mile-long stretch of winding road, there were only two houses. He gazed at the farmhouse set back a hundred feet across the road. “Yeah.” Because she was never satisfied with a simple answer, he went on. “The Muellers. Mom, Dad, Brit, fifteen, and Theo, eight.”

  “Do you know them well?”

  He drank some coffee before fashioning another sandwich. “We’re...friendly.” He helped out over there with cutting down trees, hauling building supplies and taking care of their yard when they were out of town. For a time when he was dating Will Mueller’s cousin, they’d exchanged dinner invitations and gone out together. When he discovered that Yashi Baker was not only brilliant, beautiful and sexy, she was also sly, manipulative, wickedly ambitious and untrustworthy, all those invitations ended, and things had gone back to the way they’d been before. Neighborly, nothing more.

  And one thought about Yashi was one more than he usually allowed himself in a day.

  “Do they always leave their door open when it rains?” Even after fifteen years in the US, Morwenna had kept enough of her accent to let listeners know she was a proud Brit. He liked it. Liked that it was such a difference to the local drawl.

  He shifted his attention across the road. The front door was open, and the lights in the living room and hallway shone in the dim morning like a weary beacon. The wind wasn’t blowing, so rain finding its way inside wasn�
�t a problem. But it was around eighty-five degrees with a hundred percent humidity, sticky at best. Inside, his air conditioner was humming along, keeping the rooms a cool seventy-two, but that would be a harder job if the door stood wide-open.

  “You haven’t seen anyone?”

  “Nope. I’ve been out here since six thirty.”

  It wasn’t a big deal, and it was his day off. It wasn’t his business if the neighbors wanted to invite the dampness into their house. Both cars were home, so likely both Will and Lolly were, too.

  But it was Ben’s business if something was wrong. It might be his day off, but truly a cop was never off duty. He supposed the same could be said for a good neighbor.

  He pulled out his cell and called Will’s number. It rang a few times, then went to voice mail. He hung up and moved on to Lolly’s. Her voice mail also picked up. After disconnecting one more time, he dialed Brit’s number.

  She answered on the second ring, sounding rushed and out of breath. Music played loudly in the background. “Hey, Officer Bear, what’s up?”

  Her nickname for him usually made him smile. Not this time. “Are you at home?”

  “Oh God, Mom doesn’t have you looking for me, does she? I left a note, I told her I was going to Jared’s. I knew she’d freak out if I asked first, so I put the note on my pillow, but I thought I’d be home before she woke up and I could tear it up, and she’d never know, but—”

  “So you’re not at home.”

  “No,” she said guiltily. “Is she really mad?”

  “I haven’t talked to her. Is she home?”

  “If the cars are there, she’s there. She doesn’t walk, doesn’t ride a bike, and the cute scooter Dad got her just sits in the shed because she says the helmet messes up her hair.”

  “What about your dad? Is he home, too?”

  “Yeah. The only thing on the schedule this morning is soccer practice for Theo, and obviously that’s canceled. Why all the questions?”

  “Do me a favor, Brit. Don’t come home until I call you back.” Ben hung up and stood, gathering his plate and cup. “Brit sneaked out last night for a sleepover at Jared’s—”

  “Sweet,” Morwenna said as she lifted Oliver to the floor, then also stood. At his scowl, she said, “But not really, her being only fifteen and all.” She gave an emphatic nod that didn’t make him forget for an instant that she’d been a wild child herself and still found those impulses difficult to resist on occasion, despite being twenty-nine years old.

  She followed him into the house, closing the screen door behind her. “So Mum and Dad are supposed to be home, but they’re not answering their phones, and their door is standing open. Do you think they realized she was gone and ran out in a panic to look for her?”

  “Jared lives about as far from here as he can and still be in the city limits. They would have just called Brit, or maybe gone to pick her up. But the cars are both there.” Ben went into his bedroom and took his gun from the nightstand. He grabbed an extra magazine and a radio, then dragged out a slicker labeled Police.

  When he got back to the front door, Morwenna was ready to go, too, her Wellingtons in lime green a bright accompaniment to her red shorts, yellow shirt and purple slicker. Her psychiatrist mum had once asked her if she dressed the way she did to gain attention, and she’d honestly answered, I like colors. Sometimes her colors and patterns made his eyes hurt, but she was never dreary, and Ben appreciated that.

  They jogged across his saturated yard, the narrow two-lane road and into the Muellers’ equally wet yard. Their driveway, like his own, was dirt and gravel, so they stuck to the grass until they reached the sidewalk to the porch. At the top of the steps, he motioned to Morwenna to step aside, out of the rain and out of sight of the hallway.

  He rapped on the open door, noting the film of moisture on the tiles just inside, and called, “Will? Lolly? It’s Ben Little Bear.” When there was no answer, he raised his voice and called again, this time adding Theo’s name. Silence.

  Drawing his gun, he glanced back at Morwenna. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, and her cell phone was clenched in one hand like a lifeline. She was a dispatcher for the Cedar Creek Police Department, where Ben was a detective, and he could trust her, if she had to make the call, to do it efficiently.

  He stepped inside, gazing down the empty hallway, then up the stairs. Something caught his attention about six feet ahead, where the tile turned to hardwood. A smear, thin, watery, reddish in color. On the table to the right, beneath the stairs, a handbag sat next to a wooden bowl holding two sets of keys. A cell phone lay with them.

  Every muscle in his body tightened as he walked, sticking to one side of the hall until he reached the double-wide doorway into the living room. There he stilled instantly, everything but his gaze. He saw the rug, the couch, the armchair, the wood floor, the quilt on the ottoman, all splattered with red. Pillows had been knocked from the furniture. A wineglass was upended on the coffee table, along with a plastic cup and a puddle of white. Probably milk.

  Oh God, this was not looking good.

  Barely breathing, he stepped into the room, just enough to see that no one was there. No bodies—thank you, Jesus.

  Backing up, he pivoted and went to the porch, where he handed his pistol to Morwenna. “Call Sam,” he said grimly. He shucked his slicker and his shoes, pulled off his T-shirt, dried his feet the best he could with it, then tugged it back on.

  “Are they...?”

  He took back his gun as he pulled his cell phone out. “There’s blood in the living room. Signs of a struggle.” After fiddling with his phone a moment, he held it out. “Then call her and ask her to get here.”

  “Yashi Baker. Who’s she?”

  “Will Mueller’s cousin. Brit will need somebody.” He breathed deeply of rain, flowers, weeds, woods, then blew it out. “I’m going back in.”

  * * *

  When the phone rang while she was in the middle of a jaw-popping yawn, Yashi considered not answering. It was all the way at the other end of the house, she reasoned, and she was so comfy on the window seat with her tablet, a glass of chocolate milk and half a honey bun.

  But all the way at the other end of her tiny house was only twenty-six feet, and in her barely-a-business, she couldn’t afford to ignore any calls. With a sigh, she nudged Bobcat off her legs, grinning when his gold eyes narrowed in response. “Sorry, Bobbo, some of us don’t have the luxury of lazing twenty-four hours a day.”

  With just a few strides, she snatched up the phone on the kitchen counter, giving the screen a cursory glance even as she answered. The name there stopped her, though. Everything inside her went hot, then icy, and trembling started at the top of her head and swept all the way to her bare feet. She sank onto the dining seat behind her, heart thudding, and wondered if she could choke out any recognizable words around the lump in her throat when she realized the voice coming from the phone wasn’t male. Wasn’t Ben.

  Still shaking, she lifted it to her ear in time to hear the woman say “—you there, Ms. Baker? Hello?”

  “Y-yes. Sorry. Th-this is Yashi Baker.”

  “This is Morwenna Armstrong. I’m a dispatcher with the Cedar Creek Police Department, and our officers are requesting that you meet them at Will and Lolly Mueller’s house as soon as possible.”

  Virtually all thought of Ben—how much she’d loved him, how badly she’d betrayed him—disappeared, replaced by instant concern for her cousin’s family. “What’s wrong? Is it one of the kids? Are they all right?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have information to give. Can you go to the Mueller house?”

  Jumping from the chair, Yashi dashed up the stairs to the loft, grabbing running shoes and socks. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there in ten—” Rain pounded on the roof inches above her head. “Fifteen minutes. Do you at least know if they’re okay?”

  The
dispatcher hesitated. “I know Brit is.”

  Meaning Will or Lolly or Theo might not be. Dear God.

  Yashi dropped the phone on the bed, shoved her feet into the shoes and socks, then ran back down the L-shaped stairs. Immediately, she rushed back for her phone, hit the bottom step and started out the door before turning back for her purse and keys. At the last instant, she remembered her rain jacket, yanked it on and ran out.

  What could have happened to warrant the police wanting her presence? Had one of her cousins been assaulted? Arrested? Had someone broken into their house? Had Will done something to protect his family?

  His family. Her family. The only family she had in the whole world. If anything had happened to one of them, any of them, she would... God, she didn’t know what she would do.

  Her lemon-yellow Volkswagen Bug was the only bright spot in the sodden morning. It was small and dinged and scratched, but it was paid for, and that counted for a lot in her world.

  Her office, with the house on wheels parked behind, was located on Highway 66 halfway between Cedar Creek and Tulsa. Weather wasn’t keeping anyone from running their Saturday morning errands, so she forced her attention narrowly on traffic to keep it off the fear in her gut. Her hands gripped the steering wheel until her fingers hurt, and bands were tightening around her chest. Periodically, she glanced at her phone in the passenger seat, but she resisted dialing Will’s or Lolly’s number. Whatever was wrong, she didn’t want to find out while driving in torrential rain.

  She turned west on First Street, which became Highway 66 again in a few miles, and she followed the road out of town. When her cousins had bought their house out here after Theo was born, they’d been in the county, but the city had incorporated section after section until they’d wound up within city limits. They hadn’t liked that, but they’d been philosophical about it. They loved the house, loved the fifteen acres that kept anyone from building too close, so they’d accepted it.