Military Heroes Romantic Suspense Collection

by V. R. Marks

  It wasn't quite the same feeling, but then nothing could be. There really was no turning back the clock. They'd been foolish children once and she should resist the urge to be a foolish adult.

  "You shouldn't be out here."

  She turned toward Ross' voice, startled by both his appearance and the ragged edge in his deep voice. Self-conscious, she dropped the blade of grass, hoping he didn't remember and wouldn't guess what that had been about. Maybe he hadn't even seen it, since he seemed rooted at the end of the path, shadowed by the trees.

  "Have you been there long?" And why hadn't her overactive paranoia warned her about his observation the way it had been going off since she'd confronted her boss?

  "A minute or two." He waved her closer. "Come on, let's get back inside."

  "But it's such a lovely afternoon."

  "It'll be dark soon."

  What was bothering him? The two of them could never get lost out here. "I had to have some fresh air. Besides, wouldn't darkness mean I could stay longer?"

  "Allie, don't push me."

  Suddenly that's all she wanted. To push him, to demand an explanation for his abandonment and all the years of silence. "But..." Her personal needs faded as she recognized the tension in his shoulders, the hand fisting at his side and the way his eyes scanned the area. Her stomach pitched. "What happened?"

  He only extended his hand into the soft light, curling his fingers in a gesture that meant she needed to go to him.

  She obeyed immediately. "Tell me."

  "Cochran got a call from your aunt. She's received a death threat."

  "On the ship?" Allie couldn't push out any of the myriad questions racing through her mind. Her throat was too dry, her heart pounding too hard.

  "She's fine, but whoever is running this operation is determined to get back what you've stolen."

  "How?" It was the only word she could utter.

  "Once we're inside."

  She looked up at him, but his gaze was still skimming over the lake, the trees, peering into the lengthening shadows. He was looking for the next threat, much as he'd done when they were in the car. Seeing him so edgy out here where they should be safe terrified her.

  "Y-you said no one knows about this place."

  "Apparently someone knows too much about how to get to you," he replied.

  She shivered and he draped his jacket over her shoulders as he urged her back toward the house. She felt him on her heels, closer than a shadow and far more substantial, as they walked along the narrow path.

  In the quiet of the trees, with only the soft sound of his breath and their footsteps on fallen pine needles, she gathered her thoughts. Aunt Ruth was alive. That was the most important news right now. Ross would ask who she'd told about her aunt's travels. That was easy: only Nicole. She didn't make a habit of discussing her personal life with anyone else. It hit her suddenly that Ross had been her best friend, her only confidant through everything. She'd never let anyone else close enough to fill that void.

  It was a ridiculous time for a revelation about why her few attempts at personal relationships had failed.

  Her thoughts were with her best friend. If they'd gotten to Ruth on a ship, surely they'd tracked down Nicole by now. She offered up a silent prayer when bark suddenly exploded from a pine tree. The sting of the debris on her face barely registered before Ross pushed her forward.

  "Go! Go!"

  Allie sprinted along the path, hearing Ross pounding behind her. She had a flash of her stupid dream and drove herself harder, determined to give him room to escape her problems.

  They burst into the yard and from one stride to the next, he was at her side. Gripping her elbow and matching her pace, they were soon inside and safe behind the locked door.

  For a long moment, the only sound she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears, then came the rasp of air sawing in and out of her burning lungs. She'd run much greater distances of course, but never in such a panic.

  "Away from the windows," he ordered.

  Nodding, Allie complied, following his lead when he started closing the blinds. A series of beeps followed, and she realized he was arming his security system.

  "Are we trapped?"

  Ross ignored her question, scowling at the cell phone in his palm. Her cell phone. "Check the land line."

  She rushed to the wall and picked it up. "Got a dial tone."

  "Call 9-1-1, but let me report it."

  Allie did as he asked, holding the phone out for him when the dispatcher answered. She listened as he relayed the details, his voice steady and calm, giving no indication he was distressed in any way.

  But she watched his face, read a completely different story in his eyes and the furrowed brow. Belatedly, she realized she was watching the seasoned combat veteran, doing what was necessary to accomplish the objective.

  When her cell phone hummed on the counter she reached for it, but he waved her off and pointed sternly toward the nearest chair. Feeling utterly useless, she took a seat and waited.

  Chapter 6

  Ross finished with the 9-1-1 dispatcher, certain they wouldn't be able to do anything about the sniper in the woods. That hadn't been a gang banger looking for extra cash or street cred to jump in. Whoever had taken that shot was using solid intel from an inside source close to the investigation involving Allie.

  He couldn't pinpoint who would betray them.

  He knew who it wasn't, which he supposed was a start. Sheriff Cochran didn't even know about this place. Eva and Rick were obviously in the clear. The deputy impersonator with the Taser couldn't have tracked them. She was still with the Feds, his earlier call had confirmed that, if not much else.

  Still, someone had managed to track them to this place and set up a kill zone. Based on the direction of the shot, he'd been able to provide solid intel to the deputies who were attempting to flush out the shooter.

  "No expense has been spared to shut you up," he said, turning to Allie at last.

  Her face paled and she gave a soft cry as she leaped to her feet. He was expecting a hug, or some show of gratitude, but she pushed him firmly onto a counter stool and ordered him to stay put.

  "What's wrong?"

  "You're bleeding."

  "Oh." He hadn't noticed. Reaching for the twinge behind his ear, he jerked at her command to stop.

  "Do not touch it."

  "Relax. I was –"

  "Hush. It's my turn to bark out a few orders."

  "At least get me a mirror so I can see how bad it is."

  "No."

  He might have grumbled about being treated like a wounded hunting dog, but he decided having her fuss over him was a helluva lot better than his experience with the Army medics. They were good, but none of the medics he knew were blessed with Allie's soothing bedside manner.

  Her hands were trembling when she started, but she steadied quickly as she washed the wound. She was so gentle he barely felt a thing.

  "This really could use a couple stitches."

  He didn't believe that for a minute. Even if she was right, it didn't matter since he wouldn't risk leaving the house. "There's a whole load of stuff in the first aid kit. We're not going anywhere until I get an all clear. I'm sure the superglue or a butterfly closure will do."

  She pressed another folded paper towel to his head. "Fine. Hold this a minute." She adjusted his fingers and when she was satisfied he was applying the right amount of pressure, she met his gaze, her blue eyes sparking with irritation. "Where's the kit?"

  "Closest one is under the kitchen sink."

  He tortured himself with the delectable view of her perfectly curved backside as she bent to retrieve the first aid kid. She shot him a warning glance, as if she'd felt his eyes roaming over her. "How's the pressure?"

  "Building." And not only in the cut on his head. "Find some gauze and a staple gun and we'll call it good." He barely stifled his smile as she grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a derogatory blanket state
ment about men.

  "Head wounds are bleeders," she declared. "And that's a deep gash you've got." She opened up the converted fishing tackle box. "Holy cow. You've got half an ER in here."

  "I like to be prepared. There's a suture kit in there if you're determined to see it sewn up."

  "Not me! A hospital, Ross."

  "What? It doesn't have to be pretty. No one's going to see the scar."

  She closed her eyes and he knew she was counting to ten. "Butterfly closure it is." She found antiseptic ointment and butterfly closures and set them on the counter. "This might sting." Because of the angle, he couldn't see her face while she was working, but she glowed when she was finished. "That's as good as I can make you."

  Well, she always had brought out the best in him. "Feels better already." He smiled as he changed places with her. "Now it's your turn."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You've got a cheek full of splinters." He winked. "We can't leave them in there."

  "What!"

  "Relax." He caught her hand before she could touch the scrape and splinters. "Nothing a pair of tweezers and some antiseptic ointment can't cure." He remembered how she hated splinters. It was her one irrational fear.

  "Remember that end of year party our freshman year?"

  "You are not helping," she grumbled. "And it was our sophomore year."

  "Maybe it was. Close your eyes."

  "Why?"

  "Do it, Allie." He silently vowed to kill whoever had taken the shot at her. Her soft cheek was scraped raw and would probably bruise on the way to healing.

  "No." She glared at him. "You'll use a knife."

  "On your face? No way." He shook his head. "There's one here close to your eye. I don't want you flinching."

  She obviously didn't believe him.

  "Go on and look in a mirror then," he dared her, knowing she wouldn't. When her eyelids drifted closed he said, "I still think that tree trunk in your knee happened at the freshman party."

  "You're impossible."

  He smothered a smile as she offered anecdotal proof to support her theory. Sending her down memory lane was as much about distracting him as it was her. Temper only made it a challenge to be gentle and he didn't want to add to the damage on her soft, creamy skin.

  One after the other, he carefully slid the big splinters out of her cheek, laying them on the countertop. When he paused to roll his shoulders, he realized the last few deep, tiny ones would need the knife.

  "Hang on a second. I'm getting a warm compress."

  Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes went wide, shocked at the collection of splinters on the counter. "Why didn't I feel all that?"

  "Adrenaline."

  "Mm-hmm and your gaping head wound was a distraction. I saw the bone."

  "You did not." He winked at her again, blowing off her obvious attempt to torture him. "Hold this to your face for a couple minutes."

  He picked up her phone and sent more instructions to Eva. He wanted this incident sent up the line to his buddy at the FBI.

  "Who do you think is out there?"

  "No one now. I'd bet whoever took that shot is long gone. Even if they find him, the shooter's likely to claim it was a hunting accident. Since no one's taken a shot at us in here, I'd say whoever is after you is calling it another opportunity missed." He needed to reassess and come up with a new plan to ensure they didn't succeed.

  "Any chance you have a rogue enemy armed with a rifle lurking about?"

  "I'm sure I do." He grinned at her and pulled the compress away. "But this is definitely about you. Eyes closed."

  She didn't argue this time and her mind was clearly working since she didn't even flinch when he dug out the last, deep splinter.

  "Done." He let himself take a normal breath again. "Let me clean..."

  He looked down and words failed him. Her blue eyes were huge behind a sheen of tears. "No. Don't cry now. The worst is over."

  But the dam broke. Her forehead dropped to his chest as her arms circled his waist. He held her, had no defense against her. Whether she was vulnerable or standing strong, some part of him seemed to know what he didn't want to admit. He'd always think of her as his.

  Nothing changed that feeling. She'd been his truest friend in this town and though she'd eventually abandoned that friendship, he still wanted her above anyone else.

  Knowing that persistent wanting made him a sap and a fool, he had to step up and accept it as reality.

  "Shh, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."

  "You could have died," she mumbled into his shirt.

  "It isn't the first time." He leaned back, tipped her chin up so he could look into those amazing eyes. "It won't be the last."

  "But this time it's my fault."

  "No. It's your case, but not your fault."

  "I-I'm selfish and –" she sniffled "– and stupid to think I could change anything. I should've listened. Should've just let it go."

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And as soon as that drug started hurting people you'd be hurting right along with them. You can't help being who you are. And you are a person who does the right thing."

  "No matter who gets hurt along the way?" She swiped away tears.

  He didn't believe that for a minute, but it was clear he wouldn't convince her of the truth right now. "You need to eat and you need some rest. Whoever shot up that tree can't get to you in here. Let Eva and the sheriff's deputies do their thing."

  "Then what?"

  It was a good question, but he didn't have any answers that would make her happy. "Then we'll take the next logical step."

  "None of this is logical, Ross."

  He agreed completely and felt marginally better to hear her say it. For his part, he couldn't make up his mind if the people hired to harm her were inept or if she'd simply been that lucky. Did they want her really dead or just scared to death?

  He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze and started cleaning up the first aid supplies. "What sounds good for dinner?"

  She shrugged. "How can you be sure we're safe here?"

  "State of the art security," he replied, trying not to think about the cameras. Trying to forget the sight of her when she'd walked into the range of the camera he kept trained on his slice of the lakeshore. He cleared his throat. "Soup, sandwiches?" He opened the freezer. "In the mood for a pizza?"

  "Whatever you want."

  "Pizza it is." He turned on the oven and returned the first aid kit to its rightful spot. "Eva got bored and insisted on filling the wine rack."

  "Wine? Wow." Allie shot him a look. "I pegged you for a cold beer."

  "Doesn't mean you can't have wine."

  "True."

  He suddenly had a picture of her on a date with some dark suit who knew his way around an elaborate wine list. Though the background search didn't turn up any current man in her life, she'd surely done her share of dating. Outgoing, intelligent women with beauty and charm like Allie weren't meant to stay single. The resulting pang of jealousy wasn't unexpected, but it rankled all the same.

  She wasn't really his, all his instincts to the contrary. If he brought it up, she'd only remind him he was the one who left Haleswood – and her. Still, he was the one who'd waited for any word from her, any reply to his letters, until one day he discovered he would've been thrilled with a Dear John letter.

  He tried to keep his perspective as he put the pizza in the oven, but still ended up slamming the door. It pissed him off more when she jumped at the sound.

  "Relax."

  She frowned, that little crease forming between her pale brows. "You first."

  "I'll check in with Eva while that's cooking."

  "Okay. I'll set the table."

  "Great," he said, heading for his office. Just great. His irrational reaction to a past that should stay buried wasn't making the present any more bearable.

  Aw, hell. Did he have a present with her – beyond her case? Sharing a meal after another life threatening situatio
n wasn't step one on the road to personal bliss. It was another deadly leap off the burning bridge of heartache. He'd given her everything he had once before and had felt her rejection on a bone-deep level. He should be smart enough not to repeat the same mistakes.

  "Get a grip," he muttered. Hitting the button hidden under the lip of his desk, he pulled up the various feeds from the closed circuit cameras he'd installed around his property. He may not live here, but that didn't mean trespassers were welcome. Clicking from camera to camera, he surveyed the perimeter, zooming in here and there, searching for any sign that the sniper was still out there.

  He had the camera feeds stored on a cloud server, not unlike Allie's approach to the banking transaction records. Eva would go through the hours preceding this latest attempt on Allie's life as soon as she was done with her physical search.

  In the morning, if Eva didn't find it first, he'd go pull the bullet out of the tree. Maybe a ballistics report would give them something useful.

  * * *

  Allie retreated to the bathroom to check the damage to her cheek and freshen up.

  She grimaced at the sight of her reflection. It looked like she'd plowed into a porcupine. The raw scrape over her puffy cheek and the small marks where the splinters had been only emphasized the dark circles under her teary, bloodshot eyes. With shaking hands she wiped off the rest of the dirt and indulged in the soothing feel of the cool washcloth against her battered skin.

  She was a wreck. Worse, she was a one-woman wrecking crew. Ross was in danger because of her. Her aunt's vacation had been interrupted by a vile threat because of her. She felt bad enough her life had been reduced to running from gunfire and Tasers, but it was unbearable that her trouble spilled over onto innocent people.

  If she thought she could get away with it, she'd go see Sheriff Cochran tonight. Right now. She wanted to get to the bottom of this threat against Aunt Ruth. Although, as aggravated as Ross had been a moment ago, he might give her the car keys and wish her luck.

  None of this chaos had been in her life plan and her need to get back on track was overwhelming.

  She changed into her yoga pants and a long sleeved tee and went back out to set the table. She wasn't surprised to find only the most basic set of dishes and silverware in the cabinet and drawers. He'd told her flat out he didn't live here. Still, it felt far too domestic and thankfully not the least bit romantic when Ross stomped back into the kitchen when the oven timer sounded.