Cold Truth: (Cold Harbor Book 2)

by Susan Sleeman

“How much further?” she asked to change his focus.

  “A few minutes.” He turned back to his instrument panel.

  She sighed out a silent breath to keep from drawing his attention again. Not more than a few minutes later, he started the helicopter dropping toward an open field. Seemed like they were in the same area where he’d landed on their previous visits, but this wasn’t the same field. The chopper continued the descent until Coop set it down with barely a bump. He turned it off and after a few clicks and turns of knobs on the panel, he jumped out and was at her side before she could get out.

  He helped her down again, but didn’t let go of her hand. She probably should argue, but liked his touch so she let him lead her across the field and around a bend. In another clearing overlooking a wide valley, she saw a portable canopy with a small dining table and chairs sitting on a big rug. The table was set with fine china, candlesticks, fresh flowers, and silver.

  “It’s beautiful, Coop,” she said and looked up at him.

  “Sure is,” he smiled, but his eyes were fixed on her.

  “What’s on the menu?”

  He led her to a chair and pulled it out. From an insulated bag, he took out a covered plate with enchiladas, rice, and corn. “Your favorites.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your Mom. She gave me the recipe.”

  “And you cooked?”

  “Yes.” He poured a glass of water for her from a jug. “I hope it’s edible. I did a practice run with the team and they said the enchiladas were great.”

  “And did you tell them who the meal was for?”

  He nodded. “I’ve kinda changed in the last few weeks. Time with you helped me figure some things out.”

  “Like what?”

  He dropped into the chair across from her. “Like I have to be more open with people I care about.” He held up a hand. “Don’t expect me to be a big blabber, but I can tell you more now and not wince. Well, maybe I’ll wince.”

  “That’s great, Coop.”

  “Maybe if I’d figured it out sooner, I would’ve trusted you, and we wouldn’t have gone our separate ways.” He picked up his fork and played with the rice on his plate. “But hopefully this lunch will help you to agree to open the dialogue between us again.”

  Her heart warmed, hearing all that he’d done to bring them back together. “I’m impressed with how hard you worked to pull this off. It’s really sweet.”

  One side of his mouth tipped up. “That’s me. Sweet.”

  She giggled. “Not a word I would have connected with you in the past.”

  He frowned.

  “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

  His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t speak.

  She cut a bite of enchilada. “I don’t care if you’re sweet or not.”

  “But you do care?” he asked, his fork hovering over the rice. “Because when I told you I loved you, I’d hoped to hear the same thing.”

  She sighed. “But I snapped at you and said you didn’t know the meaning of love.” She grabbed her napkin and laid it on her lap. “Not my finest moment.”

  “That’s okay. I probably deserved it. I should never have doubted you.” He looked down and slid his fork into the rice.

  Maybe he couldn’t look at her because he was afraid of her response. Her big, tough, strong defender was afraid because she had the power to hurt him.

  All she wanted to do was hold him and tell him she’d never hurt him again, but that would be rushing things. “It was a natural reaction to the situation, and I’m sorry I got so mad. Sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you, too.”

  His head shot up. “You do?”

  “Desperately.” She instantly felt vulnerable for saying it.

  He dropped his fork to slide his chair around the table and take her hand. “Can you forgive me for not trusting you?”

  “Already have.” She smiled at his instant grin. “Can you forgive me for the same thing?”

  “Already have.” His grin widened but suddenly disappeared. “And while we’re forgiving, I should say I’m sorry for involving your mother in the lunch plans. I know how that must bother you, but I couldn’t figure out any other way you would agree to see me. I tried to get permission to land on your apartment building, but they turned me down flat.”

  “You really didn’t have to do all of this,” she said. “But I’m touched that you did, and it was worth it that you got Mom involved or I might not be sitting here.”

  “I was right. If I’d called you, you wouldn’t have answered.”

  “Not because I hadn’t forgiven you.”

  “What then?”

  “I hadn’t figured out where I wanted this to go. My life was so perfect. Living on my own. Finding myself.”

  He frowned. “And you didn’t want to change it.”

  “Didn’t is the right word. But seeing you again, I know I do.”

  “So maybe we could start dating?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He inched closer, his focus never leaving her face. “I love you more than I thought possible. My life has been horrible without you. I don’t ever want to be away from you again. Could you possibly consider moving to Cold Harbor?”

  She couldn’t say no to the man who added such excitement to her life, and at the same time, surrounded her with love and a sense of security. “I’m sure I can get a job at Oceanic, so yes.”

  He whooped and stood. He tugged her to her feet but released her hands. He cupped the side of her face and drew her closer, his head descending.

  His lips soon touched hers, setting off a fire that traveled through her veins. She circled her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. She got lost in the touch of him. The taste and smell of him. She clung to him, knowing she was making the right decision.

  He lifted his head. “I hate to stop kissing you, but the food is getting cold.”

  “I don’t care.” She kissed him again.

  He pulled back. “I owe it to your mother to at least get you to eat one bite.” He took her fork, stabbed a bite of enchilada, and lifted it to her mouth.

  She didn’t move her eyes from him, but savored the familiar cheesy, tangy taste.

  After she swallowed, she wrapped an arm around round his neck. “Don’t tell my mom this, but your enchiladas are better than hers. Come to think of it, if we get married in the future, you should probably do all the cooking.”

  He tossed back his head and laughed…a sound that warmed her to her soul.

  She grinned up at him. “I don’t care if we eat eggs and enchiladas for the rest of our lives. As long as we share the same table.”

  “Oh, honey.” He jerked her close, his powerful arms wrapping around her in a possessive hold. “I can not only guarantee that, I can promise we’ll be sharing more. So much more.”

  Want to read more of The Cold Harbor Series. Don’t miss Jackson and Maggie’s story in COLD FURY!

  PRE-ORDER TODAY!

  Five years ago tragedy tore them apart…

  Maggie Turner happily works as an assistant professor in the criminal justice department and lives a quiet life near campus. That is until Jackson Lockhart enters her classroom. Then a cyclone of emotions erupt as she remembers the tragedy that once tore them apart. She’d often thought of him, but they’d agreed never to meet—never to see each other again and so far they’d kept their promise. But today…Jackson has a good reason for breaking his promise. Maggie’s life depends on it.

  Will it now bring them back together?

  In an ongoing investigation, Jackson has learned that university officials secretly photographed her classroom in a study on attendance. The recorder was supposed to run only during the class session, but it malfunctioned and recorded an entire week, which includes a shocking murder that has now put Maggie’s life in danger. Can Jackson unravel the lies surrounding this incident before the killer unleashes his fury on Maggie and takes her life?

  PRE-ORDER NOW!

&n
bsp; THANKS FOR READING

  Dear Reader:

  Thank you so much for reading COLD TRUTH, book 2 in my Cold Harbor series featuring Blackwell Tactical. I hope you’ve also had a chance to read book 1, COLD TERROR. If not please read on to the bonus material where you’ll find a sample and links to purchase the book, too.

  You’ll be happy to hear that I am currently writing book 3 in the series, COLD FURY, which is Jackson and Addison’s story. I have six books planned in this series, and I’d like to invite you to learn more about them as they release by signing up for my newsletter. You’ll also receive a FREE sneak peek of my latest book when you do.

  So turn the page to sign up for the newsletter and to connect with me on social media or even send me a message. I love to interact with and hear from readers, so hop on over and let’s connect.

  Thanks again for purchasing Cold Truth!

  Susan Sleeman

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  SUSAN’S OTHER BOOKS

  WHITE KNIGHTS SERIES

  Join the White Knights as they investigate stories plucked from today’s news headlines. The FBI Critical Incident Response Team includes experts in crisis management, explosives, ballistics/weapons, negotiating/criminal profiling, cyber crimes, and forensics. All team members are former military and they stand ready to deploy within four hours, anytime and anywhere to mitigate the highest-priority threats facing our nation.

  BUY the WHITE KNIGHTS SERIES

  BUY FATAL MISTAKE - WHITE KNIGHTS BOOK 1

  BUY KILL SHOT - WHITE KNIGHTS SERIES BOOK 2

  MCKADE LAW SERIES

  Set in Lost Creek, a fictitious town in the Texas Hill Country, a member of the McKade family has been the county sheriff and/or a deputy for the last 125 years. The series features four McKade siblings along with their grandparents, Jed and Betty McKade, and parents, Walt and Winnie McKade. In addition to law enforcement duties, they also own a working dude ranch. Walt is the soon to retire sheriff, and his children are all law enforcement professionals.

  BUY the MCKADE LAW SERIES

  Buy Holiday Secrets - McKade Law Book 1

  Buy Rodeo Standoff - McKade Law Book 2

  FIRST RESPONDERS

  Join the First Response Squad, a six member county Critical Incident Response team, as they report to explosive emergencies and find themselves embroiled in life threatening situations of their own. And join in on the camaraderie at their home, an old firehouse remodeled to provide a home and team meeting facility for this talented team of law enforcement officers.

  BUY the FIRST RESPONDERS SERIES

  ABOUT SUSAN

  SUSAN SLEEMAN is a bestselling and award-winning author of more than 30 inspirational/Christian and clean read romantic suspense books. In addition to writing, Susan also hosts the website, TheSuspenseZone.com.

  Susan currently lives in Oregon, but has had the pleasure of living in nine states. Her husband is a retired church music director and they have two beautiful daughters, a very special son-in-law, and an adorable grandson.

  For more information visit:

  www.susansleeman.com

  BONUS MATERIAL

  COLD TERROR - BOOK 1 COLD HARBOR

  Forensic artist, Hannah Perry’s skills made her a valuable asset to the police…

  A young woman has been murdered. Her body unidentified. Her skull recently discovered by the police, and Hannah feels compelled to help find the killer. Even if she’s on a much-needed vacation on a secluded island with her young son. She could work on the reconstruction in the evenings while her son slept. But as the woman’s face takes shape, an assailant invades Hannah’s cabin and tries to end her life. Before he can permanently silence her, she and her son flee the island in a small boat. Trouble is, as they approach Cold Harbor, ocean waves capsize the boat, enveloping them both in cold terror.

  But it also makes her the next target.

  Former SEAL Gage Blackwell can’t believe his eyes as he plunges into the raging waters to rescue the pair. Owner of Blackwell Tactical—a law enforcement training facility and protection services agency—Gage pulls the woman he once loved from the angry ocean. When he learns of her attack, he vows to protect her while hunting down the killer. Alone and vulnerable, Hannah has to accept Gage’s protection—even if it means staying close to the man who’d once walked out on her without a backward glance.

  Chapter One

  “Murder and vacation do not go together!”

  Forensic artist Hannah Perry held her phone away from her ear to keep her friend Rachel’s voice from breaking her eardrum. “Vacation or not, I had to agree to do the reconstruction.”

  “Had to, no. Wanted to, yes.”

  “You don’t understand. Jane Doe needs a name. She needs me.” Hannah waited for Rachel to sigh, but she didn’t, and her long silence was even worse.

  “I don’t pretend to understand how it feels to have a sister abducted and never come home,” she finally said. “To be driven every day to help others in similar situations. But I do understand the stress you’ve been under since Nick died, and you need a break.”

  Rachel was right. Of course, she was. As a professional counselor, she’d been instrumental in helping Hannah get through the loss of her husband and always knew when Hannah had reached the breaking point. In fact, this vacation was her idea. But…

  Hannah’s gaze drifted to the woman’s unidentified skull perched on the small dining table in the quaint rental cottage. What had this woman looked like? Was she blond, brunette, or maybe she even had blazing red hair like Hannah’s. Either way, Jane Doe deserved to be identified. How could Hannah say no to completing a facial reconstruction that might very well lead to the woman’s identity and bring closure to her family?

  “If you won’t think of your own mental health, then think of David,” Rachel continued. “He’s a little boy, and this is his last vacation before school starts. He needs his mother to be present for him.”

  “I am present,” Hannah snapped with more force than necessary. “I only work on the reconstruction at night.”

  “But I’ll bet you think about it during the day.”

  “Okay, fine, maybe I do, but the investigation has stalled, and Jane has no one else.”

  Poor Jane. Her body had been discovered in a gravel pit near where Hannah was vacationing on the Oregon coast. She’d barely picked up the keys for the cottage when news spread through town about her career. Then the sheriff had shown up on her doorstep the second morning and pled with her to do a facial reconstruction. After her own sister had been abducted when they were teenagers, Hannah had never been able to refuse anyone needing her help. After all, that was the reason she’d become a forensic artist.

  “I appreciate your concern, Rach, but I can’t afford to waste time arguing.” Hannah smoothed the clay over Jane’s high cheekbone to fill in her muscles and stood back to appraise her work.

  One more press of her finger above the cheekbone. Yes, that was it. Perfect. The underlying facial structure was perfect.

  She let her hand fall and was suddenly aware that Rachel had been talking, but Hannah’s work had taken over and she had no idea what Rachel had said.

  “You’ve gone back to the skull, haven’t you?” Rachel asked.

  “Sorry.”

  “I guess there’s nothing I can say that will convince you to relax and enjoy that fabulous secluded cottage.”

  “I promise not to think about Jane during the day, but the nights belong to her.”

  “That’s something I guess. Text me a few pictures of you and David having fun.”

  “You just want proof that I’m following through.”

  “You know it.” Rachel chuckled.

  Hannah laughed, and after ending the call, she stretched her arms toward the ceiling covered in white shiplap. She desperately wanted Jane to be identified, but Hannah needed a short break before starting on the tissue depth markers.
She had a bad habit of hunching over the table resulting in headaches if she didn’t stretch and get some fresh air.

  She crossed over the rough-hewn floors to the front porch only big enough for the two chairs bolted in place. Wind howled from the ocean, battering her body back against the cottage, but the cool air was refreshing. She braced her feet against the late summer storm and stared into the dusky sky. Choppy waves crashed into the rock-lined coast, the spray misting the air. Offshore, a small fishing boat bounced on rough waves, rising and falling with the surf stirred up by an impending storm.

  “Foolish to be out in this kind of weather,” she muttered as she stepped back inside, forced the door closed, then locked it. She’d been a competitive college rower and had continued rowing for exercise, but even she wouldn’t try to navigate such choppy waters, much less in the fading light.

  Back at the table, she settled headphones over her ears to tune out the wind. The sultry jazz tones of Garfunkel’s “I Only Have Eyes for You” emptied her mind, and she started to cut long tubular erasers.

  The song ended, and before the next one started, she heard the floor creak. If she was home in her condo with solid concrete floors, she would jump, but not here. The cottage was set on stilts due to flooding, and it groaned and moaned with even a light wind. Tonight it was positively swaying. Besides, no one else inhabited the island, which was precisely why she’d chosen the secluded location.

  The next song spilled through the headphones, and she hummed along as she finished slicing differing-length markers. Once cut, she would attach them to the skull in twenty-one predefined locations to help determine the right depth for the clay. She glanced at her chart for a European female, and using her measurements, she started affixing the markers to the skull.