Military Heroes Romantic Suspense Collection

by V. R. Marks

  Bradley forced himself to put that behind him and focus on the end game. The hard drive was the only obstacle standing between him and a leisurely life of independent wealth.

  He increased the pace on the treadmill while he reviewed his conversation with Carpenter, the turncoat recovery expert. More money down the proverbial drain, but he had a chance to reward the man's poor choices with lasting pain.

  Allie was no fool. She probably made copies of that hard drive. The real question was could he get to her, extract the passwords, and get out of the country before it mattered?

  While he hadn't heard any official statement, he was sure Little-Miss Community Concern had managed to get her way and keep that drug off the market. He didn't give a damn about the innocent masses. No one was going to make the fortune they'd planned on and he probably wasn't the only one angry over the development. But he was probably the only one with a workable contingency plan to stay out of jail and live out his years the way he deserved.

  Being declared dead had liberated his thinking. He didn't care if his business reputation was ruined as long as the news hit after the life insurance paid out. He'd paid in a lifetime of premiums, it was past time they paid him back.

  Which meant he still needed the original hard drive before he could escape this tidy little backwater.

  He sighed, sending a commiserating smile to the fifty-ish man huffing and puffing on the next machine. The loser was probably exercising to avoid medicating high blood pressure. Robert's laughed to himself, thinking he knew of the perfect cure. At least for 4 out of 10 people.

  Forty percent of people would have no real trouble on the new drug, but that wasn't good enough for his overly compassionate assistant. Not even when another twenty percent would tolerate the side effects of insomnia and low-libido for the over-riding benefits. There were other pills to deal with the side effects, after all.

  "Need a towel sir?"

  Roberts accepted the towel. He never would have understood Allie's fascination with community if she hadn't stolen the data and made him follow her into this pathetic little town. He supposed being raised here, where people cared about your feelings and your health had in effect brainwashed her. It still amazed him how his ideal PR manager believed her "people matter more than money" message, becoming such a thorn in his side and refusing to see logic on this simple issue.

  Too bad he hadn't found a better pressure point before she'd taken off with enough data to indict most of the board of directors and an entire research facility. If the story broke the way he imagined Allie wanted, maybe he'd come back from the dead in a few years and show the world how much her lofty ideals had cost them.

  As if he'd summoned her, she emerged from the restaurant with a loaded tray to serve the group gathered in the tiny sidewalk courtyard. He'd been watching for nearly an hour now, looking for ways to get in, and more importantly, ways to get her out.

  He'd hoped to grab her before Carpenter returned from his jaunt to the FBI office, but having her surrounded meant it wouldn't be quite so easy. She had to have the hard drive on her person. He knew she had the bank numbers and passwords locked in her head.

  Roberts continued to watch the small restaurant as the man beside him moved on to the next portion of his training. Checking the time, he changed his own program and started a cool down. No sense adding inexhaustible runner to the novelty of being a stranger.

  He would make his move soon, and offer Allie a choice guaranteed to satisfy him. She could give him what he wanted and her aunt and friends would live. Or she could be stubborn, stick to her outdated ideals and watch them die one by one until she gave him what he wanted.

  Then he would be on his way to the life of luxury he deserved. After he killed her of course.

  * * *

  Allie soon settled into the morning, taking a perverse joy in the expected scolding from Jeannie who managed the Midnight Rooster in Ruth's absence. Surviving both the reprimand for not stopping by sooner and the crushing hug of welcome, Allie tied on an apron and pitched in.

  Aunt Ruth had created an invaluable hub with her coffee bar and restaurant, serving breakfast all day and naming unique, favorite coffee concoctions after the diehard patrons who ordered them regularly. The college kids came through in droves to fuel up for studying or escape the workload for a time, but the Haleswood locals made the place tick.

  When she'd worked here as a teenager, she'd felt brisk and efficient, but today felt like she was wading through molasses, taking far too long with each of her tables. Everyone wanted to catch her up on news and ask after her own plans. She went back to the story she'd tried to use with Ross, telling them she was taking a bit of time between projects.

  But it was the unexpected 'thank yous' that had her hiding in the kitchen battling back tears. Jeannie found her, dabbing at her eyes before she picked up her next order. "What is it, sugar?"

  "Overwhelming," Allie replied with a sniffle. "I didn't do anything but make a few suggestions. The hospital here isn't the only one to get that playground or the game systems for the pediatric wards. Everyone out there is acting like I'm a hero."

  In truth Allie was well aware that she'd arranged for donations to her hometown to avoid facing the heartache of visiting in person.

  Jeannie raised a brow and added a hmph for good measure. "Stay here." She gathered up steaming plates and bustled out to the dining area.

  Allie stayed put, not willing to irritate her, especially since she couldn't be sure how long Ross would make her wait before allowing her to retreat to Ruth's house again.

  Jeannie returned, handing Allie a tissue and a cup of coffee. "They're right you know. You did good things for this place. The whole town is grateful you've done well and not forgotten your roots. It'll be easier all around if you own up to it."

  "But –"

  "No 'buts', young lady. You get out there and you own it - graciously of course - just as you were raised. Whatever your motives, the results are beneficial to everyone."

  "That simple, huh?"

  Jeannie planted her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with you that you don't want to accept a bit of gratitude and the affection that goes along with it?"

  Allie rolled her eyes. "Well, when you put it that way." She knew how to accept appreciation and affection, though she preferred the way Ross delivered the latter. Which was a dangerous line of thought considering the stew of emotions swirling inside her.

  "No other way to put it. You haven't been home in ages, then you come home and promptly run off with the Carpenter boy. Not that we didn't all see that coming years ago."

  "There were some ugly extenuating circumstances that day." And there had been some deliciously passionate circumstances since.

  The older woman waved that off. "Go on and get out there and pitch in. Do you plan on hanging out here all day?"

  "If you don't mind. I like to be busy. It will be lonely up at Ruth's house."

  "A bit creepy too after that extenuating circumstance." She shook her head in dismay. "A home invasion in Haleswood. Ridiculous. You stay as long as you like. Let them get all the chattiness out today so you'll be quicker tomorrow," she finished with a wink.

  The home grown practical perspective made Allie smile for real this time. "Thanks."

  She returned to the dining room, topping off coffee cups and settling in as she answered the gazillion questions ranging from prescription drug prices to her theory on preventing home invasions.

  It startled her how much her old neighbors appreciated her community involvement by proxy. So far no one seemed to hold it against her that she hadn't visited in person for a few years. Not since that dratted ten year high school reunion.

  When Sheriff Cochran, his receptionist and one of his deputies arrived for lunch at the sidewalk table, she felt her smile wobble as she greeted them.

  "Don't you worry, we're only here for lunch," the sheriff said. "You're on the list of upstanding citizens again. Even if you are still in a bit of
a pickle."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You're looking healthy and happy enough," Mrs. Jackson, the former school bus driver said. "Looks like your cheek will be perfect again soon."

  Allie smiled, ignoring the twinge in said cheek. "Thank you. Will it be tea for everyone?" Getting the affirmative, Allie handed over menus they didn't need while she retreated to fill glasses and a pitcher for the table. Neither Mrs. Jackson nor the sheriff tolerated an empty glass.

  But tea was the least of her worries when she caught Mrs. Jackson looking all around for someone. "Did I hear correctly? That Carpenter boy up and left you here alone? Again?"

  "Oh, no, ma'am," she replied with a smile. "He'll be back." She wanted to give Ross a stronger endorsement but the sheriff interrupted.

  "He had that business in Columbia remember?"

  "That's right." Curiosity momentarily satisfied, Mrs. Jackson gave her order and handed over another order to go. "Deputy Morris has the swing shift tonight and he'll be hungry sooner rather than later. You'd think he'd plan better."

  The two men laughed. "Why should any of us bother to plan when you do it so well?" Cochran leaned toward Allie and said in a stage whisper, "That's how I hired her away from the bus system. I only had to let her see what a mess we were."

  Mrs. Jackson sniffed as if it was all nonsense, but Allie caught the gleam of pride in her eyes. Back in the kitchen, calling out the orders, she realized it was happiness she was feeling.

  Happiness free of trepidation, worry, and paranoia. She knew Bradley was probably close and she couldn't let down her guard entirely, but Eva was nearby watching over her in Ross' absence. Allie was surrounded by the friendly and familiar. She knew the dynamics here and hadn't realized how much she missed it.

  "You're not taking any guff off Mildred are you?" Jeannie paused during her prep of a chopped salad. "I'll step in if you need me."

  "She's fine." Allie recalled the long running mistrust between the two, though she didn't remember the inciting incident. A laugh suddenly bubbled out of her.

  Jeannie sent a quizzical look her way. "You're one emotion after the other today. I prefer the amusement, but what triggered it?"

  Allie walked over and gave the older woman a half-hug, being mindful of the chef's knife. "It's being home, that's all. Old habits or strange new developments, it's always home. I've missed it more than I realized."

  Jeannie hmphed again and shrugged her off. "Go on and keep that woman in a good mood."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Things were winding down and most of the lunch crowd was heading back to work as she delivered the to-go order to Cochran's table. When he asked her to sit a moment, she was happy to give her feet a break.

  "Sorry you got scraped up out there," Cochran said, tapping his own cheek. "We don't have anything by way of real leads yet."

  "Except that candy bar wrapper Ross' assistant found," the deputy said.

  Allie gave him a half smile. "I appreciate the effort."

  "I want to say it was a relief to me when your solid alibi for the Roberts murder came through," Cochran said. "Made things easier from an obligation standpoint."

  "Not that we ever believed you could do such a thing," Mrs. Jackson added.

  Allie nodded. She didn't trust her voice. The sheriff must have been satisfied by his conversation with Nicole. She hoped someday she'd be able to repay her friend. Someday she might even be able to tell Sheriff Cochran the truth.

  "I went ahead and notified the detective in Virginia. He wasn't happy about losing a lead. But working a false lead is worse."

  Mrs. Jackson leaned forward and patted Allie's knee. "I personally heard the sheriff tell them to track down whoever gave them your name. Shameful to implicate an innocent woman that way."

  Out here on the street, Allie wasn't inclined to explain exactly which crimes she was guilty of and which were bogus. "Did Ross tell you – "

  "Of course," Cochran said. "The boy really is an asset these days. Has a good business going. I'm sure it shocked you to learn he'd been hired to track you down, but I'm glad to see you forgave him."

  "Couldn't have been easy, considering your history," Mrs. Jackson agreed. "That boy could teach a mule some things about stubborn. I bet you feel safe and snug knowing he was up there watching you the whole time."

  "Quite a team he's put together. Very resourceful," the sheriff added.

  Allie was glad she was sitting down. Her world tilted. Ross' team had been following her? Before she could think about the implications, Mrs. Jackson piped up again.

  "What does he do with the retainer since that Roberts fellow is dead?"

  Retainer? Allie was about to clarify the 'dead' detail when the sheriff coughed loudly.

  "That's not our business, Mrs. Jackson," Cochran answered, making a production of standing up. "We should be going. You know, Carpenter has earned my respect. Considering his wild adolescence that's really saying something," he added with a wink for Allie.

  She rose too, and chuckled along with them, though her heart was breaking. Ross had lied to her all this time, telling her only what he thought she'd believe. Telling her only what served his purposes.

  When Cochran and his staff were well on their way down the block, Allie bussed the table and surprised herself when she didn't start smashing dishes. Or screaming. If she gave in, if she smashed one plate or let loose the cry of pain building inside her, she'd cause a scene to keep the gossips talking for years.

  For a split second she didn't care, then she realized he wasn't worth the lifetime stigma of being labeled crazy – or worse – by the Haleswood chatterboxes.

  How could she have been such an idiot? Ross had been hired by her bastard boss to track her down. She'd been right that first night, even if he didn't have any official intention of killing her. Did he?

  At the moment, she felt pretty damn lethal toward Ross.

  She recalled the brief glimpse of shock and anger after he'd put down the shooter at her aunt's house. He'd said they weren't together. She replayed the whole thing in her mind once more, easy enough since she'd been telling the story all day. After another mental review, she concluded he'd been honest about that much at least.

  That didn't negate that he'd been available to rescue her only because he'd been following her, trying to recover what she'd stolen. How he must have gloated when she'd fallen so easily for that weak excuse about working a neighborhood patrol.

  Her mind was spinning. What was real, what was a blurry version of the truth, and what the hell was an outright lie?

  Please not the kisses, she thought. Someday she might get over the other deceptions, but if he'd been acting about the kisses and the love making...

  No. She could not punish herself with that scenario right now. She knew what she needed. Air, space, and the sound of her feet striking the earth.

  Her duffle and backpack were in the office and when Jeannie asked what was wrong, Allie shook her head. "I need some air." She picked up the stylish backpack. "Can you put this in the safe?"

  "Of course."

  "I'm going out for a run."

  "Alone?"

  "It's better that way." If she tried to explain further she'd only end up a puddle of tears and emotional mush on the cracked linoleum floor.

  "And if that Carpenter boy returns?"

  "If." Allie paused, hefting the duffle bag onto her shoulder. "Go ahead and give him the backpack. That's all he wants anyway."

  Chapter 9

  The Scooby Doo theme filled the car and Ross grabbed the phone. "Carpenter."

  "It's me."

  Panic clutched in his throat. "Eva?" She sounded entirely out of breath. He battled against the immediate assault of worry. "What's wrong? Where's Allie?"

  "Still in sight. For now." More heavy breathing. "Does this chick ever slow down?"

  "She's running? Alone?" Ross stepped on the accelerator and glanced down at the clock on the dash. He could be there in twenty minutes if he didn't get pul
led over for speeding. On second thought, he might convince them to give him an escort. He edged the speedometer closer to ninety miles per hour.

  "She's not alone, I'm right here." Eva managed to sound insulted despite her oxygen deficit.

  "Does she know you're following her?"

  "Probably. As does everyone else with eyes. I ditched the wig about a half mile back. You think she'll stop anytime soon?"

  He was more concerned about what set her off. What was she thinking, putting herself in danger this way? "Triathlons are her thing."

  "I know! I put the background in the damn file myself."

  Ross winced. "Sorry." Eva was doing her best and she'd never let him down yet.

  "Telling you... if she jumps in this lake... I'm not swimming after her... and I haven't understood the purpose of... a bike without a motor in decades," Eva said between bouts of ragged gasping.

  "She's running near the lake?"

  "Yes. Can I shoot her?"

  "No."

  "Just in the leg."

  "Eva!"

  "Fine."

  "Have you seen Roberts anywhere?"

  "Nope."

  That was a relief. Maybe he was off meeting with his informant and didn't have time to hassle Allie yet.

  "What about Deputy Morris?"

  "Haven't seen him either."

  Ross hated thinking Morris had been paid off by Roberts, but there was something familiar in the way the man at the jail moved. Athletic and cocky. The Clark bar left at both the sniper's nest and the jail could not be a coincidence either. He had to find the connection.

  "Do you know if he likes Clark bars?"

  "What?"

  "Nevermind." He could confirm that with Mrs. Jackson. "Did you run his financials?"

  "Not before she took off... Cochran had the other deputy and the dispatcher to lunch. Allie waited on them."

  Ah, hell. Cochran must have said something about Allie's alibi. Ross slowed down, his speed coming closer to the legal limit. He was suddenly a lot less eager to face Allie.