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Compromised Identity
Jodie Bailey
Under surveillanceStaff Sergeant Jessica Dylan confronts a female soldier in the act of stealing her laptop—and almost pays with her life. But a blue-eyed mystery man rushes to her aid just in time, and Jessica learns the handsome army staff sergeant has been investigating her.Sean Turner believes a ring of cyberterrorists who’ve been attacking military bases are now specifically targeting Jessica. And he’s determined to figure out why they are tracking her every move. As the threats against Jessica escalate and attempts are made on her life, Sean vows to stop the hackers. Yet the heart-scarred solider is set on keeping an emotional distance…especially when they discover what the terrorists are really after.


UNDER SURVEILLANCE
Staff sergeant Jessica Dylan confronts a female soldier in the act of stealing her laptop—and almost pays with her life. But a blue-eyed mystery man rushes to her aid just in time, and Jessica learns the handsome army staff sergeant has been investigating her. Sean Turner believes a ring of cyberterrorists who’ve been attacking military bases are now specifically targeting Jessica. And he’s determined to figure out why they are tracking her every move. As the threats against Jessica escalate and attempts are made on her life, Sean vows to stop the hackers. Yet the heart-scarred soldier is set on keeping an emotional distance…especially when they discover what the terrorists are really after.
“Are you always this prepared?” Jessica asked.
Her voice sounded laced with skepticism and not a trace of fear. She tended to stay calm in the moment, he’d already seen, but he also knew she’d been close to tears at some point.
“Only when I’ve already had to save an asset’s life three times.”
Jessica peeked around him at the man lying trussed on her bathroom floor. Her head tilted, expression darkening. “That’s the man who was hiding in my car.”
Sean gave a slight nod, watching her. She was afraid, he could see it on her face, but she wasn’t about to give in and weaken in front of him.
Most likely, she didn’t want him to see she was terrified. That was nothing to be ashamed of. Three attempts on her life in two days would rattle even the most battle-worn vet, especially on home soil where it was supposed to be safe.
For the first time in a very long time, Sean felt the urge to pull a woman close and comfort her. But no matter what he felt, distance was necessary if he was going to put his life and his career back together.
JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Love Inspired Suspense Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.
Compromised
Identity
Jodie Bailey


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.
—John 10:10
To the men and women of the US military, who fight battles within and without so that we can know peace. And to their families, who bear their warriors’ armor and fight right beside them.
Contents
Cover (#ucec8f277-97b8-5be9-b94d-6736ab3b8ed8)
Back Cover Text (#u85856580-e382-578b-8f09-6c27a2166cf5)
Introduction (#u8860249f-826f-546c-ae18-cb7db26daffc)
About the Author (#u1f7a134d-3ddd-519e-9651-42dc2feb4706)
Title Page (#ue4071e3c-ddc3-5c73-ae39-be820dbd9e34)
Bible Verse (#uace07c23-690c-58bf-a7df-a316a8d68e53)
Dedication (#uafa54d30-663f-5b86-9786-8539339e44fd)
ONE (#ud6c67293-34ee-56c9-8e3c-8f1553d898e5)
TWO (#u704f54f3-9e90-573e-9078-eb80a35c3278)
THREE (#u86cac7a2-aa9a-53c1-b358-1425d7822a78)
FOUR (#ufaae04ba-a5d5-598a-8cc3-8ef9cae1df00)
FIVE (#uebd8e1dd-e776-50f7-a6cd-6db9c1f46ee9)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_669d1900-6948-5ea6-940a-b2bb3374ce93)
“I’ll gather the Casualty Notification Team.”
Staff Sergeant Jessica Dylan twirled her pen on the green cloth cover of her notebook, watching the black barrel spin to stop, pointing straight at the chaplain, who’d stood to gather his papers after leading the casualty briefing for rear detachment. She couldn’t shake the thought of a family who was going about their business right now, thinking everything was right in their world.
“You okay?” Captain Alexander, the battalion rear detachment commander, stopped behind her on his way out the door. “Did you know Specialist Murphy?”
“Only by sight.”
The captain didn’t even hear her. He’d already moved on, out the door before her reply could even get to him.
Jessica stacked her things and pushed her chair back, feeling older than her twenty-eight years. This was no way to start a Monday.
No, she hadn’t known Specialist Murphy, but she could picture his mischievous grin at the Family Readiness Group picnic when he’d paid half a week’s pay to shove a cream pie in his First Sergeant’s face. It was true to form for Murphy. He’d taken every opportunity to buck his chain of command. Having license to do it publicly, even for a fund-raiser, had apparently been too much for him to resist.
Pulling the book tighter against her chest, Jessica shook off weighted emotion as she walked across the small courtyard from headquarters to her company’s building. Death never got easier. If the captain wasn’t going to get upset, neither was she. She could fall apart when she got home away from anyone who would see her grief as a weakness.
Her boots thudded heavy on the industrial tile, but they slid to a stop as she neared her office. The door was cracked slightly, light from her huge windows leaking into the dark hallway.
She shoved her hand into her uniform pocket, feeling for the key, vividly remembering how the lock had stuck as she’d left for the casualty briefing. With her Rear D soldiers on a detail across post and everyone else of consequence in the briefing, there was no one who should have needed access to her office.
Laying her book on a desk in the outer office, she peeked around the corner.
A female soldier, her back toward the door, stuffed Jessica’s work laptop into a small black backpack, but her focus stayed on the desktop’s screen. She fidgeted back and forth as if she was waiting for something, then reached under the desk, pulled something from the computer’s tower and shut the machine down, just like Jessica had left it.
It had only been a couple of weeks since her other laptop was stolen, and that theft had brought wrath down on her head. No way was she going through that again. Jessica stepped back, giving the woman just enough room to exit the office. Arms crossed over her chest, she waited.
The door pulled fully open, and Specialist Lindsay Channing stepped out, intent on shutting the door quietly behind her before she turned. When she spotted Jessica, her steps stuttered backward. “Staff Sergeant Dylan. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Funny.” Jessica dropped her arms and balled her fists loosely at her sides. “I could say the same thing about you. Care to explain?”
Channing’s gaze darted from Jessica to a spot up the short hallway, then to the floor before going back to Jessica. “I was just coming back from a meeting and was going to stop by and give you some paperwork but your door was open and...” She took a step forward, sliding the backpack into her hand.
“Try again.”
“That’s the truth.” Channing smiled slightly and then edged to one side, trying to slip around Jessica.
Not on her life. Not until she coughed up what she’d been doing in that office. Jessica stepped sideways with her as Channing lashed out and swung with the heavy backpack, catching Jessica against the temple.
Something clattered to the floor as the blow drove Jessica to the right and slammed her shoulder into the cinder block wall, shooting pain through her body like electricity. It took a moment for the world to clear, and Channing was running up the hall for the exit.
Jessica tried to shake off the blow, doubling over with her hands on her knees, shoulder screaming from contact with the wall. A few feet away, what had to be Specialist Channing’s cell phone glinted in the sunlight. Jessica shoved it in her leg pocket and took off out the door in pursuit, though each fall of her boots on the floor jarred an unbearable pounding through her.
One of the young soldiers on staff duty, tasked with keeping watch over the battalion area, stepped out of the headquarters building as Specialist Channing raced across the courtyard, flinging the backpack into the bushes as she ran.
“Call 911!” Jessica shouted at him as she rushed past, pushing to gain on the thief, praying he’d follow the order instead of gawking at their backs.
Jessica’s world spun in the chill of a November Kentucky afternoon, the ache in her shoulder intensifying in the cold. She would not let this slow her down. She. Would. Not. Rounding the corner of the building at the parking lot, she stopped and grabbed the rough metal of a small fence, willing the pain to stop, watching as a small red sports car screeched into the parking lot, throwing gravel in its wake.
Channing dove into the passenger’s seat, but the car didn’t move.
Gathering her reserves, Jessica pushed away from the fence and stepped forward, prepared to confront anyone who tried to get in her way. She was not going to get called on the carpet for another missing laptop. Her career couldn’t take that blow.
A man in civilian clothes climbed from the car, reaching into his coat for something she couldn’t see, setting off alarms that refused to be silenced. His dark eyes raked across her as he paused beside the vehicle not twenty yards away.
Jessica took a step back, catching her foot against the fence, reaching out to brace herself as the man pulled his hand from inside his coat, a thick knife glinting in the late-afternoon sun.
* * *
Staff Sergeant Sean Turner was out of his small rental car and halfway to the building when the man exited the little red sports car and stalked toward Staff Sergeant Dylan. Three days he’d been pulling surveillance on her and nothing. Now, everything exploded at once.
He pushed hard across the asphalt as the man pulled a knife and stepped closer to his victim.
If Jessica Dylan died in front of him, Sean would have one more sin to add to his list of unforgivables. That list was long enough already. “Back away!” The shout echoed off the buildings on the other side of the nearly deserted parking lot, competing with his footfalls for volume.
The man straightened and whipped around, knife at the ready.
This was not going to be fun.
Especially not without his weapon and with his shoulder still healing. There was no way to get authorization to carry a gun on post without compromising the mission. He’d have to get through this altercation with what existed inside his own skin.
Holding up his hands to show he wasn’t armed, Sean stopped a few feet away from Jessica Dylan, edging slowly to the left to put himself between the man and his prey. “If you put down the knife, we’ll stop this now.” He motioned for Jessica to slip around the end of the fence—anything to put a barrier between her and the man creeping closer.
“Staff duty called the police.” Jessica spoke from behind him. “They should be here any second.” There was no fear in her voice, just fact.
If the situation weren’t so dire, Sean would break away to high-five her cool in the heat of battle. She didn’t even sound out of breath.
The other man didn’t flinch at Jessica’s declaration. He took a step to the left, seeming to calculate the shortest distance around Sean to Jessica. Never once did he turn back toward the car, his likely escape route.
Sean’s heart hammered harder. Whoever this guy was, his focus wasn’t on getting away. It was squarely on Jessica Dylan.
That changed everything. If keeping her quiet was more important than saving his own life, there was more at stake here than it seemed on the surface. This guy had to have orders from someone who scared him more than jail time.
Sean balled his fists and stepped forward, leading the offense rather than playing defense.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a second voice called out from the red sports car.
The female soldier who had run from the building stood by the passenger door, pistol aimed over the roof at Sean.
Nope. Not fun at all.
The back of Sean’s mind tried to spin up images of the last time he’d been unarmed and cornered, of the nightmarish days that followed, but he swallowed the fear and refused to give in. That was last time. This time, he had to win. His life wasn’t the only one to consider.
And he had orders of his own.
Sirens spun up in the near distance, stealing the two assailants’ attention for the brief second Sean needed. “Run!” He fired the word over his shoulder to Jessica, hoping she’d obey.
Her attacker was already in motion, diving through the door of the car before Sean could even get traction to follow him. As soon as his accomplice was inside, he floored the vehicle in a spray of gravel as the scene exploded, a military police cruiser roaring into the parking lot as two more soldiers ran around the corner of the building.
Sean waved an arm toward the sports car and yelled to the police. “That’s them! Go!” The car hesitated, and then took off in pursuit. Satisfied the officers had things in hand, Sean turned his attention to the woman he was supposed to be keeping an eye on.
Jessica Dylan sagged against the chain-link fence, fingers laced through the metal as she watched the car roar away. The instant she realized he was watching, she straightened and tugged the hem of her jacket, her face rearranged into an impassive mask.
This was a soldier who wanted him to know she was fully in control. No victim here.
Before he could reach her, the two soldiers who’d raced from the building swarmed her, but Staff Sergeant Dylan waved them off. “I’m fine.” She turned on two of the younger soldiers, eyeing them with an expression Sean hoped he never saw aimed in his direction. “Explain to me how Specialist Channing got into the company building when it was locked.”
Must be staff duty. And one of them had made a huge mistake. For their twenty-four-hour shift, those guys were responsible for manning the area and making sure everything stayed safe and low-key. From walking the battalion to answering the phones, they were the first line of defense. Sean would like to know the answer to how this all went down right in front of them, as well.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and Sean angled to read his name. Specialist Thompson. “I had stepped away to take a message to Captain Alexander. My runner was at the desk.”
Staff Sergeant Dylan tipped her head toward the younger soldier, a Private Meyers. “So you let her in?”
“She needed to drop something off in your office, so I let her in and came back to my post. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Private Meyers kept his gaze just over Jessica’s shoulder.
Sean couldn’t blame the kid for not looking at her. He was facing a world of hurt leaving the desk unmanned and giving access to a soldier on the very day trouble went down. Sean stepped closer, drawing Staff Sergeant Dylan’s attention again, and she stepped away from the other soldiers to approach him, left hand extended, the only indication she’d been through trauma: a slight tremor in her fingers.
“I’m Staff Sergeant Jessica Dylan.” She grasped his fingers tightly in hers, her hand chilled from the elements and likely mild shock. “Thanks for stepping in.”
Something was wrong. Sean released her hand and eyed her carefully. “Most people I know extend their right hands, Staff Sergeant. Are you injured?” The way she angled her shoulder slightly back was a telltale sign. He looked past her to the two soldiers trudging back toward their post. “Private Meyers, call for an ambulance.”
“Meyers.” Jessica Dylan pulled herself taller and turned her back to Sean. “Do not. I’m fine.”
Meyers and the other soldier hesitated, and then seemed to choose their own chain of command over the random stranger, turning to walk back toward the building. Only Private Meyers cast an uncertain, slightly amused glance back at them.
She whirled on him so fast she wavered on her feet. “I don’t know who you are, but I said I’m fine.” Her eyes swept the rank on his chest, and she seemed a little prideful to find it equal to hers: Staff Sergeant.
Holding his hands up in surrender, Sean took a step back, giving her space before she took out her anger and fear on him.
“I’m fine, by the way. Just took a dive into the wall shoulder first. I’ll have it checked out, and I’m sure it will be bruised tomorrow but none the worse for wear.” She met his eyes with authority. “Again, thank you. I don’t know what made you do it, but I appreciate the help.” Without looking back, she turned and walked away.
The help? He took two steps to follow her, then stopped, unsure whether he should reveal his mission yet or not. Based on all he’d seen in the past five minutes, that man would have killed her. Without Sean, Jessica Dylan would be dead.
TWO (#ulink_3799abda-3b6e-5514-a395-5dbc9d3e3511)
Shoulder throbbing with a very new and totally unwelcome kind of pain, Jessica sank to the wooden bench by the side door in her house and bent to unlace her boots, wishing the pain meds would kick in and give her relief.
“At least the doctor said nothing’s broken.” Her roommate, Angie Hunter, slipped off her shoes and kicked them under the bench.
Jessica had to dodge to keep her ankle from being pierced by heels so tall that airport security would likely consider them weapons. “At this point, I think I’m past caring.” She’d toughed it out in front of everybody, not wanting to get carted off in an ambulance like a weak female, but the pain had finally driven her to make sure the injury wasn’t more than it seemed. All she needed was a pointless injury to sideline her career. The doctor at the emergency room had assured her nothing was torn or broken, but he had told her to take it easy for a few days. Hopefully, his prognosis on how long the pain would last was wrong.
Stowing her boots under the bench, Jessica followed Angie into the small kitchen at the back of the house, letting a deep breath of the familiar spicy scents wash over her and ease some of the weirdness from her day. This room, with its cheery yellow walls and white cabinets, was her happy place, the one spot in the whole world where nothing could touch her. Running her hands along the cool granite of the counter, she thanked God again for leading her to a roommate who had gourmet decorating tastes, if not gourmet cooking skills.
“Hungry?” Angie pulled open a cabinet door and stood staring into the contents as though she knew what to do with them.
“You’re cooking? I’ll pass.” Jessica leaned back against the counter. No matter who was cooking, food didn’t sound appetizing with the pain in her shoulder twisting a knot in her stomach. Or maybe that knot had more to do with the fact Channing and her cohort were still out there somewhere, having eluded the MPs and slipped off post before the order came through to tighten security at the gates.
“I make a mean can of tomato soup, I’ll have you know.” Thumping the can on the counter, Angie reached up and pulled her blond hair into a ponytail, securing it with a hair band she slid from her wrist. “You should eat something.”
“I’m good. All I want is a shower and my bed.”
“Maybe you’ll dream about your mystery protector.” Two years younger than Jessica, Angie thought everything was romantic. Knowing her, she was wishing she had been the one facing down a bad guy while a handsome hero rushed to save her.
Reality was nothing like the fantasy. Jessica would roll her eyes, but she was afraid she’d fall asleep halfway through. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Just tell me he was cute, and I’ll go dream about him for you.”
“I was a little too busy to notice.” Sort of. In spite of the situation, forgetting how blue those eyes were when he trained them right on her was not easy. And he had that dark blond kind of hair that was just a little bit longer than it should be, so it sort of mussed on the top as if he’d dragged his fingers through it.
Well, okay. So a girl could think a guy was handsome, especially if he was in the process of saving her life. Why lie? “Fine. He was the sort you’d think was gorgeous. Broad shoulders and all.” Jessica shoved off the counter and headed for her room, where the joy of sweatpants awaited and this conversation ended. “And to make your dreams even better, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a regular Joe from down on the line, not the way he handled himself. But just remember, for all we know, that exterior hid a whole tangle of crazy.” Somehow, she doubted that. The way he took authority and dove at her attacker said there was more to him than a man who was simply in the right place at the right time.
“All I heard in that jumble of words was you noticed the color of his eyes.” Angie’s laugh followed Jessica up the hall to the stairwell. “Maybe you’ll see him again.”
“Doubtful.” At least she hoped not. Any man who stepped on her authority the way he had didn’t sit right with her, even if he had saved her life.
Jessica climbed the stairs and shut the door on Angie’s amusement, then leaned back against it, letting her body relax for the first time in hours. If she didn’t have work to do, she’d crawl into bed right now and will the world away for the rest of the night.
Even though she’d hedged with Angie, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to see her anonymous defender again, at least so she could thank him for putting himself in danger on her behalf. If he hadn’t been there...
Shuddering, Jessica forced herself to move. Going there now would just solidify the image and unfurl it in her nightmares later. Not that she needed much help. Even if she didn’t have recurring dreams about her last deployment, the decor in her bedroom would agitate her. Why Angie had seen fit to go Gothic in here with deep red walls and heavy dark wood furniture was a mystery Jessica had never felt like solving. She was just happy to live off post.
Changing into track pants and a sweatshirt, Jessica gathered her uniform to toss it into the laundry. Every time she bent to pick up clothes from the hardwood floor, her shoulder pounded a reminder it had only been a few hours since she’d done battle with one of her soldiers, who’d now gone missing.
She snatched up her uniform bottoms, unwilling to think about this day anymore.
Something hard clattered to the floor and slid beneath the dark gray bed skirt. Kneeling to reach with her uninjured arm, Jessica retrieved the object and held it up.
Private Channing’s cell phone, the one that had fallen from her backpack when she swung it at Jessica’s head. Sinking all the way to the floor, Jessica powered up the device, praying it held enough charge to give her a clue as to what was happening with her disappearing soldier and the attempted theft of yet another laptop.
The phone chimed to life with just under a quarter of its battery showing. Almost immediately, texts popped onto the screen, vibrating the phone and chirping to the point Jessica nearly shoved the thing under a pillow. When the noise finally stopped, over a dozen texts waited.
It was probably an invasion of privacy to read them, but since the girl had lost the phone while swinging a backpack at Jessica’s head, privacy really ranked low at this point.
Jessica clicked on the first message. It was nothing but letters and numbers strewn together in a random pattern. Each and every message read the same way, though they came from two different telephone numbers.
Sitting back against the bed, Jessica let the device hang from limp fingers between her knees. It was almost like a child had typed text after text right under their parents’ noses. Private Channing didn’t have any children and no family that Jessica could remember seeing in her records when she’d arrived last week to prepare for rotation overseas. The woman was a foster child, her next of kin listed as a friend she’d met in basic training.
Lifting the phone again, Jessica clicked out of the messages and hesitated only a moment before going to email. The slight pain in her shoulder urged her past any sense of contrition for snooping.
No new emails, but dozens of already-opened ones sat in the queue, each with an attachment.
Why stop now? Jessica clicked on the first one. No message, but the attachment opened to reveal an official Department of Defense photo of a young male soldier. The next three emails were the same, with dozens more behind them, all sent within the past six weeks. Face after face flicked by, none of them bringing a name to mind, one or two of them vaguely familiar, though it could have been they bore resemblance to a famous person...or her exhaustion was kicking into overdrive.
Jessica turned the phone off and pulled herself up. Likely, Channing had found some weird dating site that catered exclusively to the military. There were worse things young soldiers had done with the Internet, that was for sure.
She slipped the phone into her backpack and pulled out her personal laptop, wanting to sleep but knowing her keyed-up mind wouldn’t let her. Lately, her father had started pushing the Green to Gold option on her, hinting he’d like her to take advantage of the Army’s program that allowed her to go to college on their dime and become a commissioned officer.
It was tempting, earning her father’s respect, but she’d have to temporarily leave behind her status as a medic. The thought burned in her chest. She was already sidelined for a year, watching the home front, helping soldiers transition into and out of the Army, working with the families... Would it be worth it, walking away from her dream career for an even longer stretch of time, simply for the possibility of making her father proud?
She shoved the laptop aside. Researching colleges and ROTC programs would only frustrate her more. She’d be better off staring at the dark ceiling and praying to fall asleep.
Tomorrow, she’d turn the phone over to the military police and let them deal with it and the blue-eyed mystery man who’d saved her life.
* * *
The food court of the small shopping center at the Fort Campbell Post Exchange buzzed with hundreds of soldiers and their families, all trying to grab lunch and go. With a lot of the units rotated back home from deployment, the lines were long, and the noise was loud.
Jessica eyed the crowd, watching people mill about as she waited to fill her drink. Too many people in one place. She suppressed a shudder and watched a teenage boy wearing a backpack stride across the room, head down. Her muscles tensed, shoulders aching, as he wove his way through the crowd. It wasn’t until he walked out that she relaxed. In combat, backpacks, unattended bags, huge crowds—they all spelled trouble.
She’d been back stateside for five months, but the wariness hadn’t left yet. Likely, it never would. She still dodged potholes in the road, still scanned thick groves of trees for evidence of a sniper... Yesterday’s events hadn’t helped, to be sure.
As the man in front of her stepped away, she pressed her cup to the lever for ice, and then filled it to the brim with sweet tea.
Sipping her drink and hoping in vain the caffeine would waylay the effects of her sleepless night, Jessica turned from the drink machine and surveyed the room, trying to find an empty table with a view of one of the TVs. There. By the front window. If she could just beat the nineteen other people who’d probably spotted it, also. She took two steps from the fountain, and a body collided with hers, knocking her drink from her tray. It splattered to the floor, dousing her lower legs and covering her boots with sweet stickiness.
Cold tea ran inside her boots, soaking the tops of her socks. With a gasp, she stepped back, the cup squishing beneath her heel.
A young soldier stared at her, eyes wide as he took a step back. “Oh man.” He shoved a wad of napkins into her hand and retrieved her cup from the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Jessica didn’t even have to see his rank to know he was a very green private. The dark Army-issued glasses and gangly newborn colt stance told her without needing to see the rank on his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Private.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but taking her frustrations out on this poor kid wouldn’t help. She knelt and blotted at the drink on her boots, biting back words she’d have to repent for later, she was sure. “I can get another drink. And I have a spare pair of boots in my office.” Thankfully.
The kid still looked mortified. Fresh out of basic, he was definitely used to getting yelled out for every minor infraction, and was likely waiting for the tongue-lashing he thought he deserved.
Jessica pulled in a deep breath and straightened. “Really, it’s all good.”
The private looked down at the cup in his hand. “I’ll get you another drink.”
He was gone before she could protest that he really didn’t have to do that and was somehow back within minutes, even though the lines were still crazy long. Jessica didn’t question as he fed ice into her cup. “Um, Staff Sergeant? You missed a spot on your toe.” He started to reach down, then nervously pulled his hand back, aiming a finger at her left boot. “You were drinking tea?”
Focused on her shoes, Jessica nodded, and then took the cup he offered before he scampered off with another apology.
With her coveted table by the window now occupied by three soldiers, she picked up her tray and spotted another in the far corner of the room, the angle too sharp to see the TV. Oh well. She didn’t need to see the news anyway. She already knew all she needed to know. Her new brigade had shipped out without her, the chain of command claiming she should get more time stateside since she’d only been home a few months before her transfer to Fort Campbell. Her father was disappointed she’d been put in Rear Detachment, refusing to believe it was all about timing and not something she’d done wrong. To him, there was no value in her position. He’d never grasp the need for someone to be on the home front to act as liaison to the families, to support the soldiers who had deployed and to aid the transition for those coming and going overseas.
It was quieter in the corner anyway, away from the crowd. Sliding into the seat, she shoved a straw into her drink and unwrapped her hamburger, glancing at her watch. Half an hour to shove in hot chow and get back to the office before the next briefing.
She reached for her tea as a man slipped into the seat across from hers and laid his hand across the top of the cup. “Don’t drink that.”
Jessica sat back in her seat, trying to keep her jaw from going slack. The blond, blue-eyed soldier was the same man who’d come to her rescue yesterday—and he had to be out of his mind. “Do I know you, Staff Sergeant?”
“No, but trust me.”
Grabbing his wrist, the material of his uniform rough beneath her fingers, she lifted his hand from her drink. After staring down a gun and a knife yesterday, there was no room for fear in the middle of the crowded food court. She didn’t have time for this guy, even if he had saved her life, and even if he possessed the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. This current behavior was out-of-bounds. All she wanted was lunch in peace before an afternoon of listening to a commander who liked to hear his own voice. “Worst pickup line ever. You going to tell me next that I’d be better off going with you for drinks somewhere? That you—”
“Your drink’s spiked.”
“Right.” As a female in a predominantly male world, she’d heard every line in the book. This one not only took the cake, it sliced it and shoved it down her throat. “And you’re James Bond.” She reached defiantly for her sweet tea, but his hand was quicker, drawing the cup to his side of the table.
He couldn’t be serious. “What is your problem?”
But there was no amusement on the man’s face. His mouth pressed into a straight line, and a fairly recent scar ran from his hairline at his temple back toward his ear. It made him menacing. And deadly serious.
He was either telling the truth, or he was crazy and she should wave over one of the military policemen who tended to be around the Post Exchange for a lunch break.
Leaning forward, he slid her drink to the side. “When you’re a female, what’s the first rule you follow? Never let your drink out of your sight.”
“I didn’t.” Who was this guy to lecture her?
“You did. Just long enough for your clumsy friend to dump something in it. I watched him.”
The private at the drink machines? That kid was about as murderous as a toothless toy poodle. “So why didn’t you chase him down?”
“I thought it was more important to keep you from drinking it first. We can pull surveillance video later.”
Jessica wasn’t buying a word of this. Guys like this, fresh back from deployment, feeling lonely... They were trying to find someone to take their minds off things. She glanced down. No ring. At this moment, her blue-eyed “protector” was nothing more than a lonely single soldier looking for a woman any way he could get one. Somehow, he’d been in the right place at the right time yesterday, maybe because he was already watching her. Grasping her tray, she stood, staring him down. “Keep the drink. I don’t need it.”
“Sit down, Staff Sergeant.”
“Goodbye.” She stomped two steps away, but stopped at the sound of his voice.
“Your full name is Jessica Maria Dylan. You were born at Fort Benning, Georgia, to Colonel and Mrs. Eric Dylan. You came to Campbell a few months ago from Fort Lewis, Washington. You’re a medic assigned to First Brigade who didn’t ship out with your unit because you haven’t had enough downtime since your last deployment. On that deployment, you came under fire after your convoy hit an improvised explosive device, but rather than take cover, you went out into the mix and saved two soldiers’ lives. When your commander tried to put you in for a commendation, you fought him until he backed down...reluctantly. Oh, and two weeks ago, your government laptop was stolen.” When she turned, he tilted his head. “Ready to listen?”
No one but her former commander knew she’d turned down that commendation. And no one but her current chain of command knew her laptop had been stolen once already. “How did you know all of that?”
“It’s my job to know that...and to protect you.”
Jessica gave up her defiance and sank into her seat, finally deciding to give Staff Sergeant Sean Turner the satisfaction of investigating her drink. She popped the top and glanced inside.
A fine white powder coated the edges of the tea and floated in a sheen across the surface of the liquid. Her hands grew cold, and she shoved the cup away. Her head pounded, threatening nausea. “What’s going on?”
Staff Sergeant Turner scanned the immediate area around them, then pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “These are my orders.”
Jessica scanned the paper, not recognizing his unit name, but picking up that he was pulling temporary duty for an investigation. She folded the paper and stared at the tight creases. “You’re investigating me?”
There was something about his bearing, his attitude. He was Special Forces or deeper. She kept silent, knowing he’d eventually be forced to fill the space with words.
Staff Sergeant Turner pocketed his orders as he lowered his voice. “My unit works to combat groups that hack computers to funnel money and information but who are operating in the physical, as well. Essentially, it’s cybercriminals buried in sleeper cells. We’re deep because there are times the ones we’re investigating are soldiers. We’ve been looking into a series of laptop heists. The theft of your laptop two weeks ago is the first time we’ve seen the first theft and been able to anticipate the second. The interesting thing is, there have been chatter spikes each time. I’ve been watching your machines, and it just so happens our thief came out hot right under my nose yesterday.”
As much as she didn’t want to believe any of this, his knowledge of her past and his orders spoke to the truth. “So what do you need from me?” Jessica laid a hand on the cell phone in her leg pocket. She hadn’t had a chance to turn it over to the MPs yet, and now she wondered if she should.
“Nothing except your trust, and maybe for you to be a second set of eyes.” He sat back and laid his hands splayed on the table. Several small scars creased the knuckles. “Staff Sergeant Dylan, this theft is different. You saw both of their faces, and the evidence says they’re willing to kill you for it.”
“You saw both of their faces, too.”
He waved a hand in front of his face. “I’ll give you that, but with them making a second attempt on you just now, I’m inclined to believe they think you know something else, too.”
“That’s why you’re operating under the assumption the kid tried to poison my drink, because they think I know more than I do.” Jessica’s fingers tightened around the cell phone. She ought to be afraid, but her mind was too busy trying to function under the surreal information Sean Turner was feeding her. “If you can prove that’s actually something dangerous in my drink.”
“If you’ll let me, I can have it analyzed and know within a few days.” He leaned closer. “There’s more. They were watching your house last night.”
She didn’t even want to know how he knew that. “I still say you ought to be worried about your own well-being.”
“I’m not worried about me.”
The words sent a jolt through her that she didn’t want to acknowledge. She could take care of herself, but knowing someone else had her back untwisted something in her heart, something she’d rather leave alone. She would do well to remember this man only wanted her trust so he could get to the bottom of his investigation. She swallowed the emotion and made her decision. “You’re right. They’re not after me because I saw them. Too many other people did, too.”
Sean arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“It’s probably because I have Channing’s cell phone.” She started to pull it from her pocket.
“You have it now?” At her nod, Sean reached across the table and grabbed her free hand. “Not here.” He stood and scanned the room. “I have to get you back to your battalion. Now.”
THREE (#ulink_7e81c733-6b1e-5046-9d80-2aa9e2e11c0e)
Sean ran his hands around the edge of the nondescript brown door, slowing along the top of the frame just in case anyone was stupid enough to leave something incriminating up there.
Nope. Leaning against the beige cinder block wall beside the door, he scanned the tile floor with a curled lip. Barracks sure were better today than when he’d signed up, but nothing beat an apartment of his own. An apartment he’d barely had time to unpack after moving from Maryland to be closer to his new home base in northern Virginia. They’d shipped him out on this assignment in record time, forcing him to leave his new place in a wreck of boxes and half-empty closets.
Thankfully, after Jessica shared Specialist Channing’s cell phone with him, she’d trusted him enough to let him accompany her to the battalion. Well, she partially trusted him. She might believe he was who he said he was, but she still wasn’t 100 percent convinced her life was in danger.
He’d followed her back to her unit, filling in her commander with the least amount of information he could. Jessica Dylan had already been vetted by his superiors, and they knew she could be trusted. The rest of her unit was still being investigated and had to know as little as possible. There was no way to tell who was involved.
Once he’d obtained permission to be in the building, he’d uploaded the contents of the phone to his laptop while Jessica got clearance from the military police to search Specialist Channing’s room. The phone hadn’t yielded much on the surface, but he had a lot of decoding ahead of him. While Jessica thought the texts were nothing more than child’s play, they nagged at Sean. They seemed more like encryption. The numbers and digits weren’t random. In fact, they were the same pattern in many of the messages. As for the emails? Something wasn’t right there, either. No one had any reason to carry around that many head shots of soldiers.
That cell phone was the key to proving these laptop thefts were related, that the thieves weren’t petty criminals. They’d been mentioned in terrorist chatter, but his unit still felt this was a low-level priority. That’s why they’d sent Sean.
He tapped the phone through his pocket. His last mission had brought him into the unit as a consultant, an operative when a desperate situation called for one. As the man who’d uncovered terrorist activity among their contractors, he’d already been in the know about classified intel. He’d just uncovered everything they needed and shipped it back to his best friend, Ashley, in the States when the terror cell blew his cover and took him. Took him and tortured him, trying to discern what he knew.
When the bad guys went after Ashley, his lifelong best friend... That was almost more than he could handle, though it had helped knowing his buddy Ethan Kincaid was protecting her.
His actions overseas had brought him into the unit full-time. But after what he’d been through, sending him out to investigate this mission was proof his superiors thought he wasn’t back up to speed, not operating at full capacity. If he were in their boots, he’d probably want him to prove himself, as well. He’d been tortured but not broken, though that last part was debatable. His sleep was still sporadic and restless, peppered with nightmares when it came.
He had to be successful here if they were ever going to trust him with his own team, ever stop thinking of him as the poor sap who’d made a key mistake and found himself taken hostage. He had to prove to them and to himself he was fit for this assignment.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Sean straightened and prepared to fight, but it was Jessica who appeared around the corner. She held out the key to Specialist Channing’s room as she got closer. “Captain Alexander said the military police and Criminal Investigations spent a large chunk of yesterday in there, but we’re clear to go in now. We probably won’t find anything. I’m guessing they took every piece of evidence that even looked like it had any bearing on her thievery.”
“Yeah, but they’re not looking for the same things I am.” He held out his palm for her to lay the key in it, her warm fingers brushing his skin.
The touch telegraphed straight up his arm. There was no doubt Jessica Dylan was a beautiful woman. Her brown eyes were as warm as hot chocolate, and the way that one stubborn length of dark hair kept escaping the bun she’d tried to tame it in made him itch to tuck it back.
Sean shook his head and tightened his fingers around the key, running his thumb down the jagged edge... All things he shouldn’t be noticing about her or any other female. She was a witness in need of his protection, his only ally on this investigation. Nothing more. Getting involved with her was against his personal protocol, and he had more than enough to worry about without dragging another woman into his life. He’d almost killed the last one.
Slipping the key into the lock, Sean eased the door open, muscles tensed for action in case someone had beaten them into the room.
There was no intruder, but the room was a disaster. Clothes strewed the floor. Several pizza boxes balanced precariously on the small desk and soda cans overflowed the trash.
Jessica followed, grimacing at the chaos. “Did our guys make this mess, or was Channing this disorganized all along? I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never seen a room in as sad a shape as this one.” She fingered a pizza box and watched it slide to the floor. “I mean, I’ve seen messy soldiers before, but this? There are too many inspections for a soldier to leave a room as trashed as this one. And I’m not sure she was here long enough to merit this kind of disaster.”
“You can fault the investigators for part of it.” Sean pulled open a duffel bag and dragged a hand through wads of drab olive T-shirts. “But not all of it.”
“Maybe because this was her temporary housing, she didn’t bother to worry about inspections. She was supposed to ship out in a few days. She just in-processed from Fort Carson a week ago.”
“Still, something’s not right in here.” Sean stopped in the middle of the room and swept the small space. It was a good thing it took more than overflowing garbage to turn his stomach. “What was her rank again?”
“Channing’s a Specialist.” She’d been in a couple of years and was just above a Private in rank.
Sean pulled the duffel open again, sifting through it and a smaller bag on the floor beside it, giving in to a growing suspicion as he did. Shoving a heap of detritus from the twin bed, he dropped the clothes onto it, then went to the closet and pulled out all the uniforms there, adding them to the pile.
Jessica stepped back and watched. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Thinking.” He pulled random articles of clothing from the bottom of the closet. “At any point in your career, especially when you were a young soldier, did you throw out every single one of your uniforms and start over with used ones?” Sean dumped the clothes onto the bed, then pulled a pair of jump boots from the floor of the closet and tossed them into the mix.
“I’d turn in old uniforms to central issue and get new ones, but usually not all at once. Some of it was used, but not much of it. We got new stuff before deployment, but I kept that back home and wore my old gear overseas. Less I had to buy later. Why?”
Sean swept a hand at the clothes on the bed, waiting to see if he was right or simply thinking sideways. “Tell me what you see.”
“A mess.” Jessica twisted her lips, but she didn’t step back and call him crazy the way she had at the food court. Maybe she was warming up to him.
She’d better. It would make this job a whole lot easier if he didn’t have to fight for her trust every step of the way.
After surveying the heap of uniforms for a minute, Jessica lifted an undershirt, then a pair of pants. One by one, she inspected tops and bottoms, setting them to the side and growing more thoughtful with each piece.
She had to see what he saw.
“Sean.” She stepped back, stopping spare inches before she backed straight into his chest.
Her warmth eased through his uniform top, forcing him to open up the space between them before he decided he liked the feeling. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d used his first name. It also hadn’t escaped his notice that he liked the sound of it when she did.
Jessica didn’t seem aware of his thoughts. “The gear is right, but the clothes... None of them are new. And none of them are Channing’s.” She turned on her heel, realized how close she stood to him and slid to the side, clearing her throat. “It’s all used, even has other people’s names on some of them, like she picked up every single bit of it at one of those surplus stores right off post. None of it has been issued to her by the Army.” She picked up a patrol cap and ran her index finger along the brim. “This is more than a soldier would need just to travel overseas.”
“Exactly.” Sean nodded. Her observation skills rivaled some of the best he’d worked with. “Something’s going on with your missing soldier, and I’m starting to think we’re right that it’s a whole lot bigger than the data on your laptop.”
* * *
Tossing Channing’s patrol cap back onto the bed, Jessica walked toward the window that overlooked the parking lot. “I don’t know. It seems like a leap to me.”
“A leap?” Sean stepped up behind her but kept his distance.
Good for him. She’d gotten a little too close earlier, and while the man might be a conspiracy theorist to the highest degree, he was every good thing Angie had guessed he was and more.
And that made him dangerous.
Jessica didn’t turn around. “In reality, I’ve got a soldier who has used uniforms and tried to steal my laptop and has now gone missing. I’ve got a mysterious powder in a cup of sweet tea. And I’ve got you.” Only one of those things was a proven threat.
“You skipped the part where your missing soldier pulled a gun on me while her buddy approached you with a knife.” Sean’s voice was way too matter-of-fact.
She hadn’t forgotten; she just wished she could forget. Refusing to talk about it seemed to be the easiest way to make that happen. “Okay, that, too. But that’s all. It seems localized to me.” Jessica finally risked turning to face Sean.
He was sitting back against the small desk in the room, arms crossed over his chest. “You forgot the whole reason I’m here.”
To be a pain in her neck? “What reason is that, Staff Sergeant?”
His jaw tightened slightly at the use of his rank, but he didn’t comment on it. “Chatter. We picked up specific chatter for this unit, for your specific computer. Chatter from known terrorists.”
Okay, so there was that. Jessica sank to the edge of the second twin bed. “You really think terrorists were after my laptop? There’s nothing on there they can use. No troop movements. No intel. No battle plans. Only thing on there is records and personnel data.”
“I think terrorists are after several laptops. Remember, yours isn’t the first. It’s only the one we were able to get a jump on.” He tipped his head to both sides, stretching his neck. “Give me a general idea. If I went on to your laptop today, what would I see?”
“It’s in my office, and you can go through it all you want. Channing pitched it when I was chasing her. But I’ll have to sign you in. You’d need my ID card because the laptop has a common access card reader on it.”
“You haven’t lost your ID have you?”
“Really?” Jessica smirked, then pulled her ID out of her thigh pocket and held it up between two fingers. “I’ve been around too long for that. And even if they had my ID card, they’d have to get my password to go along with it. I’m sure, if they’re the hackers you seem to think they are, they could gain access, but once in there, the most interesting information they’d get for their trouble is my calendar, some general emails, and...” No. Please not that.
“What?” Sean straightened, dropping his hands to his sides. “What would they be after on that laptop?”
“With the right information, they could get access to the DD-93s for the unit.”
“That’s not good.”
Jessica dug her fingernails into her palms. No, it wasn’t. The form DD-93 was the Record of Emergency Data. It contained contact information for soldiers’ next of kin if the worst happened. “There are names and addresses on there. If someone got access to that information, they could locate any soldier’s family they wanted.” Just the year prior, a local group had terrorized soldiers’ families on post in an attempt to bring the men home early. But terrorists? With that information, they could wreak havoc on families and tear down the morale of the entire military.
She consciously relaxed her fingers. “The good news is, they didn’t get my laptop.”
“But they got your first one...and others from other bases.”
“True, but to get access they’d have to know log-in information and passwords for the system and—” she wrinkled her nose “—to be honest, that’s risky. It’s got to be something else. They could hack that database without calling attention to themselves by stealing laptops. Access can come from any computer, not just a government laptop.”
“It’s something to think about. Anything else?”
“General information about soldiers. Honestly, whatever you think is on there is what’s on there. Your basic information for each of our men and women.”
She’d wasted half of her afternoon dealing with Sean Turner and his theories. He kept spouting things she didn’t even want to think about and, with her body aching and her mind fogging from lack of sleep, it was better to just be an ostrich, to stick her head in the sand, and pretend everything was normal. “I have to go meet a spouse at the Soldier Center. She lost her ID card and needs someone to hold her hand through the process.”
“Isn’t that the Family Readiness Group’s job?” Sean waved a hand toward the door for Jessica to go ahead of him.
“Normally, but I know the soldier, and his wife felt better calling me than her point of contact. I think there might have been some friction there at one point.” She glanced at her watch as she walked out the door, keeping her distance from Sean Turner. This was one favor she was glad to do, especially if it got her out of his presence. “I’ve got to be over there in half an hour. And then I’m going home to pretend today never happened.” She was hosting the college girls from her church for dinner and Bible study tonight. Their chatter and company would be the best thing to happen to her today.
“Let me come with you.” Sean pulled the door shut and locked it, then held the key out to Jessica. “I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight after what’s happened the past couple of days.”
Jessica took the key and pocketed it. “Just when I’m starting to think you might not be so crazy after all, you go and sound like a stalker.”
“I’m just saying—”
She held up her hand and headed up the hallway ahead of him. “And I’m just saying. I’m going to the ID card facility and home. Not much can happen between here and there.” Well, it could, but she could take care of herself. She’d spent the past ten years proving that, and she’d have to keep proving it if she was going to go Green to Gold, from enlisted to officer.
Sean was going to argue. Jessica just knew it. But before he could, the trill of a cell phone echoed off the cinder block walls.
“Dylan, wait.” Sean’s voice halted her.
Jessica stopped and turned.
He was holding up Specialist Channing’s cell. “It’s ringing.”
“Answer it.” Whoever was calling could know exactly what was going on, could hold the answers that would put Sean Turner on the road and out of her life for good, before she noticed yet again how blue those eyes of his were and how well he wore his uniform.
Sean shook his head. “I’m not taking the chance of tipping somebody off. You recognize the number?”
The phone stopped ringing as Jessica stepped closer. “Bring up the recent calls list.”
Sean obliged, but he stopped in midswipe as the phone chimed once. His face tensed and he held out the phone for Jessica to read the screen. “They just wiped the email clean.”
“What?” Jessica grabbed the phone and stared at the No Mail message.
“I backed it up, so we haven’t lost anything but—”
The phone pinged again, and Jessica flicked the screen to open a new message as Sean eased closer.
Tell Staff Sergeant Turner an old friend says hello.
Sean’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the edges whitening. He pulled the phone from her hand to focus on the words.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but stood instead with her hand hovering between them. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to reach out to him, though every instinct in her urged the contact.
“They know me.” His voice scraped over controlled emotions.
“They know your name. It’s on your uniform. Anybody who sees you knows it.”
He shook his head, finally lifting his gaze to look at her. His eyes were cold, hard. “No. They made a point to mention ‘an old friend’ in that message...” He stepped back and tensed. “They want me to know they don’t only know my name. They know who I am.”
FOUR (#ulink_f2c6bfff-b6d3-5b5d-b5c0-b4a13461f79a)
Somehow they know who I am. It had been two hours, and still Sean’s words chased each other in Jessica’s head.
As the clock edged closer to five, Jessica settled in her seat, pressing her back hard against the gray plastic. The ID card facility at the Soldier Support Center was hopping with soldiers trying to get minor issues squared away for themselves and their family members.
This was not exactly where she wanted to be right now. As much as she tried to make conversation with the young wife next to her, her mind kept wondering if the analysis on the powder in her drink had come back, if someone was really going to try again to kill her and how the sender of that text message knew Sean Turner.
His composure had cracked at the words, coming back together quickly when he realized she’d noticed. Still, she couldn’t forget that look, that quick flash of something she couldn’t quite figure out.
Beside her, Ellen Johnson frowned, then smiled slightly. “Thanks for helping me put together all of this paperwork. There are so many hoops to jump through with Garrett deployed. I’m scared to death I’m going to do the wrong thing and someone will yell at me or something.”
The young wife was like a dozen others Jessica had met over her time in the Army. Young soldiers, panicking about deployment, would marry their girlfriends, move them on to a new post and leave them for parts around the world almost before the ink was dry on their marriage licenses. Jessica half understood it, that need to have someone waiting at home, that drive to protect the ones they loved by making sure they had the benefit of insurance should anything happen. Still, it always chafed her a bit when the guys did that, because so many wives were still children themselves, barely eighteen and pulled away from their families to live in a strange place while they worried daily about the men they loved. Some of them, like Ellen, might have been better off staying home with their parents during the deployment. The dream of making a home with a young soldier was often a whole lot more romantic than the reality.
Jessica shoved aside her thoughts and prayed they didn’t read on her face. She dragged the toe of her boot across the dark flecks in the floor as she sat taller. “You’re not the first to lose an ID card while her husband is away.” Murphy’s Law always seemed to kick in when the soldiers left, with something—or someone—getting lost or broken almost immediately. “I’m just glad I was able to help.”
“You didn’t have to stay and wait with me. I know this isn’t exactly under your job description.” The younger woman pushed straight blond hair behind her ear and smiled, her gray eyes not quite receiving the message. “I appreciate it. I’m not quite sure what all of the drama with my point of contact was, but she didn’t make me very comfortable asking her questions.” Ellen stopped to listen as another number was called, then tightened her hold on the boho purse in her lap. “It’s intimidating here, all of these soldiers in one place.”
“Friction happens. Where’d you grow up?”
“Michigan. Not exactly a lot of military bases up there.” Ellen waved a hand that encompassed the whole room, then dropped it back into her lap. “This is a totally different world, not just the Army and the South, but being married and everything.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I’ll be okay if you leave when they call me back.”
Jessica fought the urge to check her watch. The girls in her Bible study would get to her house around seven o’clock, and if she had any prayer of having dinner ready, she’d have to get out of here in the next fifteen minutes. Still, the last thing she ever wanted to do was telegraph that impatience to Ellen. “Are you sure?”
“When I’m done, I can walk right out of here that way.” She pointed to a door behind them. “I just go through those doors and I’m home free for the lobby and the parking lot, right?”
Jessica nodded. “Right.” She surveyed the room, unable to shake the feeling that had plagued her for the past ten minutes, as if eyes she couldn’t see were watching her. She was probably just jumpy after the past two days and her time with Sean Turner. The things he was saying were incredible, but the more he talked, the more she found herself believing him.
It didn’t help that she was remembering more details about yesterday. Either that or she was dreaming. It had better not be the latter. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start having nightmares. She shuddered and caught her lower lip between her teeth, letting go just as quickly. Projecting weakness was one of those things she hated the most, and biting her lip was a tell for sure. Her father had chastised her for it often.
She sat taller, much preferring the vision of Sean Turner’s blue eyes to the dark, menacing ones of the man who’d approached her with a knife. She shouldn’t think of the Staff Sergeant that way, though. There was a wariness to him, a way that he had of seeming vigilant at all times. Turner had trouble written all over him; she just couldn’t pinpoint why.
Best not to think about those eyes or that incredibly cute just-over-regulation-length dirty blond hair of his. It wasn’t often, even with the Special Forces unit on Campbell, that she got to see a guy with actual hair on his head.
Tossing her head, Jessica surveyed the few people still waiting in the rows of gray chairs as the clock ticked nearer to close of business. At the reception window, a man turned his head quickly, the motion catching her eye. She stared hard, waiting for him to turn back around. Did she know him? Something about the brief glimpse of his face was vaguely familiar. She ran through a roster of the soldiers in her unit, but none seemed to fit his description, and besides, the majority of them were deployed.
He glanced back at her again, giving her a better view of his face as his dark eyes met hers, glittering in recognition. Rather than hail her, though, he stared hard, seeming to memorize the lines on her face. Even from across the room, he chilled the blood just beneath her skin.
As if confirming something in his mind, he turned from her, then walked away, straight across the room and out the door.
The tension in her muscles relaxed. Her imagination was hyped into overdrive today Although she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen that man before, the image was right on the edge of her memory yet refusing to gel.
Ellen stood, breaking Jessica’s concentration, and lifted her purse as she tilted her head to the oversize TV screen above the door that led to the main ID facility. “My number just came up. I go through that door, right?”
Jessica stood. “Yep. Are you sure you don’t want me to go back with you.”
“I’m fine now. It was just kind of nerve-racking at first, afraid I’d do the wrong thing after they turned me away and told me I needed more paperwork last time.” She reached to give Jessica a sideways hug, then stopped, opting for a small wave instead. “Thank you, Staff Sergeant Dylan. You’re a lifesaver.” Ellen was gone before the words were fully out of her mouth.
Not for the first time, a sparse loneliness brushed Jessica’s heart. She felt so out of place sometimes as a woman on an Army post. Pulling her beret from her side leg pocket, she ran it through her fingers and headed up the hallway toward the exit. Sure she had friends, but whenever she put on the uniform, something seemed to happen. Other women never seemed to know how to react around her, seemed to forget she was a female who’d appreciate a hug and girl talk just as much as the rest of them. Just because she was a soldier, it didn’t make her any less of a woman.
Though the balance was tough. She had to be strong enough to hang with the boys but woman enough to be one of the girls. She pressed her lips together as she pushed out the door into the cold, gray fall afternoon, grinding her black beret tight onto her head. On days like today, when her life was spinning in strange directions and she wanted to do the perceived “girl” thing and break down over all that had happened, the tightrope was even harder to walk.
At the end of the duty day on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the parking lot was virtually empty, only a handful of other cars filling the spaces. It appeared everybody else wanted what she wanted. Home.
She checked her watch again as she headed for the far end of the parking lot. If she could get there in the next half hour, dinner for her Bible study girls would be right on schedule. It would take a run of green lights to get her that far that fast, though. Some days, living closer to post would be a blessing.
Pulling her keys from her pocket, Jessica clicked the door locks on her small gray sedan, her steps slowing as she drew closer. The car click of the locks was muted, the sound it made when it was already unlocked. She vividly remembered locking it because a young private had jumped ten feet in the air when the horn blasted as she did. Normally, she wouldn’t think twice but today—something seemed off, that gut feeling she often got when things in her world just weren’t right.
Then again, her radar had to be out of whack with Sean Turner feeding her ghost stories. That man was messing with her head in more ways than one. Shaking off the chill that tried to claw up her spine, Jessica pulled open the car door and glanced into the backseat as the lights illuminated the interior.
A man crouched low behind the driver’s seat. Dark eyes glittered at her, more chilling than the air, the same eyes that had been locked on her in the waiting room. He lunged over the seat toward her, grasping the edge of her sleeve and pulling her forward.
Jessica’s shoulder collided with the side of the car, the jolt to her already-injured muscles arcing through her to steal her breath. Her throat closed, trapping the scream that swelled and fought to escape. Digging in her heels, Jessica used her height advantage and threw her body backward, momentum causing her to stagger to the ground as the rough fabric of her uniform slipped through the man’s fingers. She hit hard, jarring her teeth together, scrambling to get up before the man could exit her vehicle and keep her down for good.
The car door pushed open as Jessica rose to her knees, but another body charged in from her left, foot clipping her knee and buckling her helpless to the ground.
* * *
Sean dove at the door, catching it with his hands and landing on his side as it slammed shut on Jessica’s attacker. He rolled to his feet as the man in the vehicle scrambled out the passenger door and got a running start, Sean’s boots skidding on loose gravel as he scrambled up to pursue.
The man leaped into a small SUV that sat waiting, door open and engine running, and skidded out of the parking lot as Sean pitched sideways to keep from being hit, sliding along the ground on his still-healing shoulder. He fought the intense desire to curl up against the pain, struggling to read the license plate of the fleeing vehicle. He was on his knees when Jessica thudded up beside him.
Sean reached for his phone to call the military police, and then abandoned the idea within the next second. The gate to get off post was too close to their position. Before he got through to anyone, that vehicle would be long gone, and all he’d have was more attention turned on Jessica when this investigation still needed to be under wraps. Without knowing who was involved, he couldn’t call in help unless he needed backup or had a suspect in custody. He abandoned the idea and turned his attention to Jessica.
She was pale, the hand she held out to him shaking.
He wanted to ignore the help, to prove that he could do this all by himself, but he knew it would insult her if he didn’t accept it. The thread that held them together was tenuous enough already, and protecting it was worth the perceived bruise to his ego.
She helped haul him to his feet as he winced against the pressure on his shoulder. Her gaze went there immediately, her hand following to rest on his upper arm. “Are you hurt?”
“Old injury.” He shook off the warmth of her fingers before he could decide he liked it and turned the focus back where it belonged—on her. “Are you okay? What just happened?”
“I opened my car door, and he was in there.” The statement might have been matter-of-fact, but the tension around her mouth telegraphed that this had upset her more than she was letting on. “I had the situation under control. Where did you come from?”
From his car five spaces away from hers, but that probably wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment, not with Jessica bound and determined to take care of herself.
He didn’t have to say a thing anyway. Her expression hardened. “You’re following me?”
“And aren’t you glad?” Seriously. She could at least be a little bit appreciative that he’d saved her life. Again.
“I’d be happier if you hadn’t let the guy get away.”
The words were born more out of adrenaline than malice and Sean knew it, but they still cut. Had he been more vigilant, he’d have seen the warning signs. Had he been quicker, he’d have arrived in time to see the guy crawl into her car, not three minutes before she left the building.
Then again, had he been three minutes later...
He shook off the thought of Jessica dead in the parking lot with a broken neck, a stab wound or worse. He’d made it in time. She just needed to understand how vital it was for someone to have her back. If this didn’t convince her the danger was real, protecting her and getting to the bottom of this mess was only going to get harder.
Reaching out to lay a hand on her arm, he turned her toward his car. “Let’s get out of the middle of the parking lot. You can wait in my truck while I clear your vehicle.”
She stopped, pulling away from his grasp. “Wait?” She threw a hand out toward Clarksville. “No. I have dinner tonight for the college girls in my Bible study. We get together before Thanksgiving and—”
“Whoa.” Sean held up a hand to stop the flow of words. She’d lost her mind if she thought she was going to up and leave a crime scene before they’d done all they could do to catch the man who likely would have killed her. “No leaving until the techs get here. And no Bible study at all, not until we know you’re safe.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “Cancel it. The last thing you need is to put someone else in danger because they’re at your house when the bad guys show up. I can’t let you do that.”
Her mouth closed, and she at least appeared to be considering his words. Denial could be stronger than common sense sometimes. In Jessica’s case, it seemed she carried a pretty hefty dose.
Unfortunately, Sean knew what a superhero complex coupled with denial could get you. A space in the hot seat staring a terrorist square in the eye. He’d rightly earned that seat by ignoring the signs that had led to his own kidnapping. He wasn’t going to let Jessica do the same, not if he could save her.
Rather than reach for her arm and get rebuffed, Sean swept his hand toward his rental car. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you weren’t standing in the open right now.”
He expected her to argue, but she fell into step beside him and crossed the remaining thirty yards to his vehicle. Just a short distance from the vehicle, she stopped. “I know that guy from somewhere.”
Sean looked around but saw no one in the parking lot. “Which guy?”
“The one in my car.”
“Wait.” Sean stopped, pinning his hands to her shoulders so she’d look at him and not away as she had a habit of doing when she was cornered. “You know him?”
“I don’t know his name, but he was in the ID card facility earlier when I was there and I wish...” She shook her head and balled her fists again, which seemed to be her trademark move when she was frustrated.
Or scared.
Sean watched her eyes as she talked. This had her spooked more than she would ever let on. Jessica Dylan did not have everything as held together as she tried to make it appear, but with her driven need to prove herself, she’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.
Fighting the totally inexplicable urge to draw her close, an urge brought on by her unexpected vulnerability, Sean dropped his hands and took a step back. “You wish what?”
“Nothing. Just that I could figure out where I’ve seen him before today.”
“So this isn’t the first time you’ve encountered this guy?” If the man had been following her before the incident yesterday, it was for certain this operation was much bigger and Jessica wasn’t a random target. “Think. Where?”
“I don’t know. That’s what’s bugging me. I’ve seen him, but my mind won’t place him. I’ve run through everywhere I’ve been for the past week and can’t picture him in any of those places.”
“Describe him. Tell me everything about when you spotted him inside, anything you remember about him, no matter how insignificant. His appearance, what he was doing, everything.” Before Sean took one more step, he needed to know what he was up against. Even though he’d had a brief glimpse of the suspect, he wanted to hear her details, see if having her talk would trigger another memory.
“Not very tall. My height maybe. Light brown hair. Tanned skin. He looked like...” She pulled in a gasp, reaching for Sean, eyes widening with something close to excitement. “He’s on the cell phone.”
“What?”
“His photo was in Channing’s email. That’s why he seemed familiar. I’m sure of it. It’s one of the first emails, one of the oldest.” She grabbed his wrist, animated once again. “If you can let me see the backup you made of that phone before they deleted the emails, I’ll recognize him.”
She’d recognize the man, but would it do them any good? Each attack came closer to stealing Jessica and, if the pattern continued, when it happened again, he might not be able to reach her in time.
FIVE (#ulink_2600706e-2a6f-583f-a810-dceb82dc958d)
“Something else is going on here.” Sean dragged a hand down his face and glanced at the clock in his rental car as he sat in Jessica’s driveway talking to his team leader. It was just past six in the evening, and he was already flagging. If he didn’t get sleep soon, there was no telling how much longer he’d be able to run on fumes. It hadn’t been that long ago when he could make it through a forty-eight-hour stretch without batting an eye, but those days were gone after the events of last spring made him feel a whole lot older than his thirty years and made sleep harder to come by.
He grimaced. Stupid nightmares were not going to keep him from what he wanted out of life. He’d beat them the same way he’d beaten every other challenge. With stubborn willpower.
Willpower that wasn’t keeping his emotions out of this thing with Jessica Dylan. She was getting into his head already, and that was definitely not something he was used to. Needing some time to adjust to her presence, he’d cleared the house and let her go in for some time to herself while he made the call to headquarters.
“Tell me what you’ve got.” A clatter punctuated Captain Ethan Kincaid’s words. He was either on speaker or headphones. Likely headphones. The man never stopped moving even to have a conversation.
“The guy who came after her yesterday... He was more intent on silencing her than saving his hide.”
“You’re sure?”
“I know the look.” A loud bang cracked on the line, and Sean grimaced, pulling the phone away from his ear. “What are you doing?”
The silence grew long and loud before Ethan finally cleared his throat. “Dishes.”
Sean coughed to cover a laugh, then gave up and let the grin sound in his voice. “The one-man destroyer of terror cells is doing dishes?”
“Knock it off, Turner.” Even Ethan sounded amused. “That terror cell wouldn’t have come down without you and Ashley. And you deserve more of the credit than the rest of us.”
Sean frowned. Last year at this time, he’d been in Afghanistan, gathering intelligence on a terror cell led by an American contractor, Sam Mina. Things had gone south quickly in the spring, and Sean’s best friend, Ashley Colson, ended up in the crosshairs because of his decision to pull her into the mission. It was a choice that nearly got them both killed.
“I know what you’re thinking. Stop beating yourself up.” All amusement vanished from Ethan’s voice. “Mina’s in jail. The cell he led has fallen apart. You’re safe. And believe me, Ashley is more than fine.” Ethan should know. He’d married her two months ago.
Sean cleared his throat, shoving the conversation aside. He didn’t want to talk about the past. All he had was the future, and even it was on a shaky foundation. “Ashley’s more than fine because she talked you into doing housework. Tell me again why you’re doing the dishes, Kincaid?”
For a minute, it seemed Ethan wasn’t going to take the bait, but he finally spoke. “She’s all spun up because my parents will be here for Thanksgiving, and she spent the entire day making pies. Oh, and that was after she ferreted out a hacker in Turkey. You know. Typical Ashley day.”
There was nothing typical about Ethan’s wife. Sean could testify to that. He had known her his whole life. Sean might count himself a master at data encryption, but when it came to everything else about computers, Ashley Colson Kincaid beat him without even having to fight.
“Speaking of her hacker tracking ability, I need her to remote in to Staff Sergeant Dylan’s desktop computer. If she saw Channing downloading data, I want to know what it was. If Ashley and I sift through it together, we have a better chance of finding something.”
“Done. Just be careful not to tip your hand to the mission. If we’re right and this is a terror cell, we don’t know who’s involved. Get with Ashley and set up a time. Think you need me to put a team together for you and send them out there?”
For a half second, Sean considered the offer, but he rejected it. Having only recently been cleared for full duty after his injuries, he hadn’t had a chance to vet and put together his own team. “After what your partner did, I’m not sure I trust anyone I haven’t personally selected, and you’re wrapped up in your own mission.”
“Mitch was one guy.”
“One guy who nearly managed to tear down the entire unit.” Their Special Missions Unit was working at skeleton status, rerunning background checks on each member after Craig Mitchum sold out to be Sam Mina’s inside man. Trusted team leaders like Ethan and Sean were spread thin as the unit regrouped, each doing the work of three men.
“Do me a favor, Sean. Remember you’re down there to see if this thing has legs, not to show you can handle an entire mission all by yourself. Don’t get in too deep trying to prove something.”
Sean clamped his back teeth together. Ethan Kincaid might be one of the people closest to him, but the man had no idea what it felt like to be helpless, unable to save yourself or the person you loved most in the world. If this mission blew up and Sean succeeded in bringing down another cell, it would prove he could do this job, would finally confirm to himself that he was truly past all that had happened in Afghanistan, that he wasn’t a failure and a danger to the people he cared about.
“I know you heard me say that.” Ethan was more stubborn than Sean gave him credit for.
“I heard you. Have any suggestions?”
Ethan’s exhale was loud in the microphone. “Tate’s out there in the wind, itching for something to do. Do you trust him?”
Though officially retired from the Army, Tate Walker acted as their jack-of-all-trades, their go-to guy when things went sideways. He’d lost his home and his identity while working to save Ethan and Ashley and now spent his time tucked away, building a new facade of a life. Aside from Ethan himself, Tate was the one guy Sean knew wouldn’t turn on him. “Call him in.” He’d breathe easier knowing someone had his back.
“Done. Based on his last location, he should be there in a few hours, but keep him close. He’s too valuable to us undercover to let anybody see him out there too much.”
Sean rolled his shoulder, trying to stretch the knot that persisted there. “I’ve let Specialist Dylan know what’s going on, so she’s clued in to the investigation. She’s shaken up a little, but she refuses to admit it.”
“You’re certain they were going to kill her?”
“Positive. They’ve made two overt attempts, and I had a buddy at a local lab test her drink.” Dropping off the sample was why he’d nearly been too late to save her at the Soldier Center. “It was tetramine.”
Ethan whistled low. “Rat poison out of China? That stuff’s a hundred times worse than cyanide. What made your buddy test for that?”
“Apparently, it’s making a comeback.” Sean held tight to the bottom of the steering wheel. “These guys aren’t playing. They’ll come after her again. We’ve got to be vigilant.”
“You’re in front of her house, aren’t you?” Ethan’s voice rang with conviction.
“Why would you say—”
“Knowing you, I’d expect no less. Just don’t let the neighbors catch you haunting the driveway.”
The light turned on in one of the upstairs rooms. Ethan hinted Sean was acting like a stalker, but knowing Jessica was in danger drove him to watch out for her as best as he could. If she died because he let his guard down... Well, that wasn’t an option.
He let his fingers knead the muscles in his neck as he surveyed the front of her house again. The two-story just a few blocks from the Cumberland River boasted a turret and a wide covered wraparound porch with enough rockers to seat an entire team of soldiers, but what Sean really needed was a clear view of the privacy-fenced backyard. “I’ll keep an eye on Staff Sergeant Dylan while you guys see if you can find anything about our attackers. One is in those emails I forwarded to Ashley. I’ll tag which one.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ethan was back to his all-business self. “Keep me posted.”
“Make sure you don’t get dishpan hands.” Sean killed the call without waiting for Ethan to respond.
He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and frowned at the silence, staring at the radio. He’d promised Jessica half an hour before he invaded the privacy of her home, and he had fifteen minutes of that time left. It would be nice if he could turn on music and fill the cavernous silence of the small vehicle with noise. Then he could keep back the memories that liked to creep up in the silence, but the radio would only mask any outside sounds he needed to hear.
No. He’d have to sit here in the quiet and try not to think.
Headlights turned from one of the side streets and headed slowly toward him. Sean slid lower, trying to make himself as small as possible, though, from his angle in the driveway and with the darkness settled in, it would be hard for anyone to see him. No need to get excited yet. This time of day it was likely a soldier coming home from duty or a nine-to-fiver headed home from work.
As the car came closer, it slowed in front of Jessica’s house as though the driver was searching for something. The vehicle crept past the house, then hung a U-turn, passing the house slowly again before it sped off down the street.
Sean sat taller and tapped his thumb against his thigh. It could be nothing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on Jessica Dylan.
* * *
Jessica shut her bedroom door slowly to keep from slamming it hard enough to crack the frame. The day had been too much like a bad action movie. She was hungry, tired...
And scared. Her fingertips pressed into the wood of the door. Everything had been just fine until she’d climbed into her car and Sean had shut the door for her, then turned and walked to his own car to follow her home. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t stop staring into the rearview, waiting for a head to pop up.

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