Kansas City Countdown

A seventy-two-hour countdown to save her life

They may have battled in the courtroom, but KCPD detective Keir Watson isn’t going to let their turbulent past stop him from protecting attorney Kenna Parker. She was attacked, escaping with her life but with no memory of who wanted to end it. And the only person she dares trust is Keir.

With the clock ticking, every second grows more precious, each action more important…their feelings more intense. If Keir is going to discover Kenna’s would-be killer, he has to keep his mind on the case. But his attraction to Kenna is making this self-declared bachelor reconsider just what his idea of forever could mean.

The Precinct: Bachelors in Blue

“Don’t be nice to me right now. I need you to be a detective.”

“Counselor, you’re scaring me.”

“Join the club. The numbers. They’re a countdown.” She told him about the weekly letters she’d stashed away and the caller who seemed to think she ought to be dead. “Today is day zero. Today is when he planned to attack me. I think he’s coming to kill me.”

“Did you report it to the police?”

She hugged her arms around her waist. “Would it have done any good? Aren’t I the enemy? Someone has been threatening me, and maybe…maybe I wasn’t scared enough for him. I’m too stubborn and independent…” Kenna swayed with exhaustion and fell silent.

“Can I be nice to you now?” Keir’s voice was deep pitched, calm.

All she could do was nod. He turned her into his arms.

Kansas City Countdown

Julie Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JULIE MILLER is an award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of breathtaking romantic suspense—with a National Readers’ Choice Award and a Daphne du Maurier Award, among other prizes. She has also earned an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. For a complete list of her books, monthly newsletter and more, go to juliemiller.org.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Keir Watson—A third-generation cop and the youngest of the Watson brothers, this detective never backs down from a challenge. The last person he expects to stumble out of an alley and into his arms is the attorney who just shredded his latest case.

Kenna Parker—A successful, driven criminal-defense attorney, she has plenty of enemies. When she’s brutally assaulted and left with amnesia, she is dismayed by the frightening number of suspects who might want to hurt her. The only man she trusts is the detective who rescued her, Keir Watson.

Helmut Bond—Good ol’ Hellie was a friend of Kenna’s father, and would like to be an even better friend to her.

Dr. Andrew Colbern—The cosmetic surgeon has been accused of hiring someone to murder his wife.

Devon Colbern—The doctor’s aggrieved wife doesn’t feel justice has been served. Yet.

Marvin Bennett—Is the Parker estate’s gardener about to lose his job? Or his life?

Hudson Kramer—Keir’s partner might be a little jealous of his partner’s luck with the ladies.

B.J.—Who was Kenna planning to meet the evening she was attacked? And why would she keep that meeting a secret?

Hoodie Guy—When you don’t know a name and haven’t seen a face, you give the creepy guy who keeps showing up a nickname.

Thomas Watson—Keir’s father. Someone has targeted his family. Can the threats against the people he loves be related to the woman his son is protecting?

Seamus Watson—Keir’s grandfather. He can’t walk by himself and can barely speak. But he knows how to charm a lady.

To my fellow Whovians.

You know who you are.

(And please don’t ask me to pick a favorite Doctor!)

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Cast of Characters

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

“You’re a bad boy, Detective Watson.”

Keir Watson laughed at the teasing gibe from Natalie Fensom Parker, the bridesmaid he was escorting down the aisle at his sister’s wedding. He adjusted the cherry-red bow tie that matched the vest he wore with his black tuxedo and doffed a salute to Al Junkert as they walked past. Al was an old family friend and KCPD senior officer who’d once partnered with Keir’s father, Thomas, before a shattered leg had forced Thomas into early retirement from the department. “No, ma’am. I’m a truth teller. You are absolutely the prettiest pregnant lady here today. The guests can’t keep their eyes off you.”

Natalie’s bouquet of red and white carnations seemed to rest on her swollen belly as she giggled. “Everyone’s eyes will be on your sister and Gabe today. Nobody is watching me waddle down the aisle.”

“Your husband is.”

“Maybe Jim is watching you.” She beamed a smile to her husband as they walked by. “He and your sister, Olivia, have been partners for some time now. I’ve got the scoop on all three of you Watson boys. Third generation cops like your father and grandfather before you. He knows your reputation around the precinct offices.”

“That I’m a sharp-eyed detective who is as tough as he is resourceful? That I’ll make sergeant detective and be running my own task force before I turn thirty-five?”

“No, that you’re a flirt.” Her fingers squeezed his arm to take the sting out of the accusation. “But Jim assures me you’re harmless.”

“Natalie, you wound me.”

“Well, better me than my husband.”

“The warning is duly noted.” Keir patted Natalie’s hand and grinned. Jim Parker was a lucky man to have this woman love him. His soon-to-be brother-in-law, Gabe Knight, was lucky to have Liv so head over heels for him. And though Keir modestly suspected that there was at least one single woman in the crowded church he could charm into going home with him by the end of the wedding reception, he instead felt a stab of envy that these good people had found their happily-ever-afters. Not that he’d ever admit that little taste of bitterness out loud.

Marriage vows and 2.5 children just weren’t in the cards for the youngest Watson brother.

Once he’d wanted what his father and late mother had had until she’d been torn from their lives by her senseless murder by a doped-up thief. He’d seen how devastated his father had been. Keir had felt the grief just as keenly, though as an eleven-year-old he hadn’t quite understood why his mother wasn’t coming home or why Grandpa Seamus and a new housekeeper/cook were coming to live with them.

Once he’d wanted that goofy smile kind of happiness Natalie and Jim Parker shared. Like them, he’d imagined starting his own family one day. A few years back he’d almost taken the plunge. But patience wasn’t always a virtue. He’d waited too long to put his heart on the line. He’d let the high standard of his mother’s example of what he wanted in a wife and his ambitious career plans with KCPD get in the way of grasping happiness when the opportunity presented itself.

With the engagement ring he’d hoped to give her buried in his pocket, Keir had waited hours for Sophie Collins to meet him at the restaurant where he’d planned to propose, only to find out the next day that she’d eloped with a friend of his from the police academy—the same man who’d introduced them two years earlier. While he’d been busy studying for his detective’s exam and taking extra training courses to be ready for any assignment opportunity, letting the relationship slide to the back burner, the other two had been spending lots of time together. Sophie considered Keir to be the friend, expected him to be happy for her. So he’d kissed her cheek, said all the right words and walked away.

He’d been walking away ever since.

That day, he’d picked his pride up off the floor and closed off his heart to that kind of loss and humiliation ever again. He wasn’t averse to enjoying a woman’s company, and took pride in being a gentleman and showing a lady a good time—whichever she preferred. But let anything get too serious, too close to feeling like he was giving a woman control over his heart, and Keir moved on. He had plenty of friends, and his career at KCPD was taking off. He’d made detective that first year he was eligible and he’d gotten several plum assignments, including his position now with the major case squad.

What more could a man need to have a successful life?

Right. Family. As Keir neared the front of the church, he reached out and squeezed his hand over the shoulder of his grandpa, Seamus Watson. The eighty-year-old retired KCPD desk sergeant laid his bony fingers over Keir’s and smiled, and Keir knew he had all the love a man could need with this close, supportive family. He caught the smile of the plump, silver-haired woman sitting behind Seamus and winked. Grinning at the blush that colored her cheeks, Keir blew a kiss to Millie Leighter, the woman who’d raised him and his brothers and sister after their mother’s death. More aunt or grandmother than housekeeper and cook, Millie was family, too.

Yeah. Keir Watson had enough for his life to be a success. The past was what it was. He was moving on.

He released Natalie as they’d rehearsed the night before and joined his older brothers—Duff, the detective, and Niall, an autopsy doctor at the KCPD Crime Lab—on the top step of the altar. A grin curved his lips as he saw Niall adjusting the dark frames of his glasses and nailing him with a piercing glare.

“Natalie is married to Liv’s partner, you know,” Niall whispered.

“Relax, Charm School Dropout.” Keir clapped his tallest brother on the shoulder of his matching black tuxedo and moved in behind him. “Young or old, married or not—it never hurts to be friendly.”

Olivia must have given Niall a directive about keeping his brothers in line, because the bespectacled medical examiner now turned his attention to Keir’s oldest brother, Duff. “Seriously? Are you packing today?”

Duff’s massive shoulders shifted as he turned to whisper a response. “Hey. You wear your glasses every day, Poindexter. I wear my gun.”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew what the term Poindexter meant.”

“I’m smarter than I look,” was Duff’s terse response.

Keir couldn’t let that straight line go without saying something. “He’d have to be.”

Duff turned his square jaw toward Keir. “So help me, baby brother, if you give me any grief today, I will lay you out flat.”

He probably could. If Niall was the brains of the family, Duff was definitely the brawn. But Keir had vowed from a tender age to never go down without a fight—or at least without a smart-aleck protest or two.

But before he could utter the barb on the tip of his tongue, Niall was shushing them. “Zip it. Both of you. You, mind your manners.” Keir put up a hand, acquiescing to the terse command, while Niall got on Duff’s case, too. “And you stop fidgeting like a little kid.”

Then the organ music coming from the wall of pipes in the church’s balcony changed and all three brothers turned their attention to the archway at the back of the church. Everyone in the congregation stood and watched Olivia Mary Watson and their father, Thomas, pause a moment before heading down the long aisle together.

Keir’s breath caught in his chest as he watched his sister and father approach. They both carried themselves proudly and walked with a purpose, despite Thomas Watson’s limping gait. Good grief! When had his tomboy little sister grown up to be such a beautiful woman? She was a detective like him, for Pete’s sake, and usually sported jeans and leather jackets. But today, sparkles and lace clung to curves sisters weren’t supposed to have. The veil of Irish lace that sat on her dark hair framed blue eyes like his own, and took Keir back several years to the pictures he remembered seeing of their mother and father’s wedding day.

“Dude.” Duff was about to wax poetic, giving voice to a sentiment similar to what Keir was feeling. “Gabe, you are one lucky son of a—”

“Duff.” Leave it to Niall to maintain a necessary sense of decorum.

“You’d better treat her right.” Duff whispered a warning to the groom.

“We’ve already had this conversation, Duff,” Niall pointed out. “I’m convinced he loves her.”

Gabe never took his eyes off Olivia as he leaned back toward his soon-to-be brothers-in-law. “He does.”

This conversation was pointless to Keir’s way of thinking. “Anyway, Liv’s made her choice. You think any one of us could change her mind? I’d be scared to try.”

The minister hushed the lot of them as father and bride approached.

“Ah, hell.” Duff was tearing up. “This is not happening to me.”

Keir blinked rapidly. If he wasn’t careful, he might embarrass himself and do the same thing. “She looks the way I remember Mom.”

Niall slipped Duff a handkerchief while Olivia shared a tight hug with their father. Keir gave her a thumbs-up when she smiled at the three of them, then turned his attention to the exchanging of vows and rings.

By the end of the ceremony, Keir was feeling that sting of envy again, a hollowness that seemed to fill the area of his chest right around his heart.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

But he’d made his choices. He was genuinely happy for his sister. While Liv’s new husband planted an embarrassingly thorough kiss on her lips, the guests applauded and Keir whistled a cheer between his teeth. Then the recessional started and the happy couple proceeded down the aisle to acknowledge all the family, friends and coworkers gathered here. Duff followed with the matron of honor. Niall took the arm of his bridesmaid and Keir extended his arm to walk Natalie back to her husband and get going to the party to find someone who could make him forget, for a little while, at least, that he wasn’t missing a thing by not putting his heart on the line again.

He even danced the first few steps in time with the music until he caught a glimpse of movement up in the balcony. A door opened beside a limestone buttress near the organist. The man who stepped in was dressed in black from head to toe. That was no guest. “What the...?”

By the time Niall shouted, “Gun!” and the recessional ended on an abrupt, dissonant chord, the masked man upstairs had pulled a rifle from beneath his long coat and opened fire down into the church. Keir cursed as he reached for a gun at his waist that wasn’t there and pulled Natalie to the floor behind the front pew.

Gunfire exploded in the air and chips of wood blasted over their heads and rained down as the shooter emptied his rifle into the congregation.

Keir was calling Dispatch for a SWAT unit when he heard Duff yell for everybody to get down and heard more chatter among the many police officers in the crowd—getting guests to safety, pinpointing the shooter’s location, making plans to go after the man. A matter of seconds passed as the shooter emptied his clip. The momentary pause meant he was reloading, pulling another gun or running. Now was the time to move.

“Stay put,” Keir warned Natalie, turning on the camera on his phone. He raised the device over the pew, snapping pictures and getting a position on the shooter before crawling into the aisle. “Damn.” New gun. Keir scrambled toward his father, grandfather and Millie as the man pulled a semiautomatic pistol from his belt and sprayed the church with more bullets. A chunk of marble spit off the floor and smacked into Keir’s leg.

What the hell was the guy aiming at? Was he blind? Going for chaos over accuracy? The minister at the front of the church was crouched behind the pulpit, and though there were children crying and shouts of panic, Keir couldn’t see signs that anyone was hurt or administering first aid. He didn’t intend to give the guy the opportunity to improve his aim. He might only have milliseconds to reach his family before the shooter turned his gun back in this direction. “Dad? Grandpa? Millie?”

Keir reached his family, ducking between the seats as a bullet shredded the lacy bow decorating the pew beside him. He pushed Millie to the floor and reached over the seat to help the others. Seamus’s cane clattered to the floor.

“Grandpa!” Keir felt the spatter of warm blood hit his cheek a split second before the old man crumpled against Thomas. “Ah, hell.”

Seamus Watson had been hit.

Keir shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the marble floor beneath his grandfather as his father lowered him to the floor. The rage of bullets fell silent and he spared a glance up at the door closing in the balcony as the shooter escaped, silently swearing to track down the bastard. He pulled a shocked, weeping Millie into his chest and turned her away from the blood pooling on the floor as his brother Niall worked on their grandfather’s wound.

Keir had already made one call to Dispatch, but he dialed the number a second time and repeated the call for help, making sure an ambulance was en route. “I need a bus. Now. Officer down. I repeat—officer down.”

Chapter One

May

Keir dropped the shot of whiskey into his mug of beer and picked it up before the drink foamed over. “Here’s to the Terminator.”

His partner, Hudson Kramer, dressed in work boots and blue jeans, lowered his bottle of beer to the bar top. “Please tell me that’s sarcasm.”

“Loud and bitter, my friend.” The Shamrock Bar tonight was loud with Irish music, conversation, laughter, the periodic clinks of glassware and the sharp smacks of pool balls caroming off each other. The frenetic, celebratory energy was typical for a Friday night where several denizens from the KCPD and surrounding downtown neighborhood liked to hang out. They’d survived another week of long hours and hard work that could be, at turns, tedious and dangerous. Some of his fellow cops here had broken cases wide-open this week or arrested criminals or even just kept a drunk driver off the streets, where he could be a threat to the citizens they’d all sworn to serve and protect.

But Keir and Hud, yin and yang in both style and background, yet as close as Keir was to his own brothers, had nothing to celebrate. Keir was feeling the need to either get drunk or get laid to ease the tension coiling inside him.

Sure, some of it had to do with his frustration over the slow-moving investigation into the shooting at the church where his grandfather had nearly died—an investigation that he and his two older brothers weren’t allowed to be a part of in any official capacity. Not that departmental restrictions were going to stop Keir and his brothers from pursuing answers for themselves. A masked shooter who threatened a building full of cops on a happy occasion and then disappeared into thin air made every officer in the department an investigator until the perp who’d targeted Keir’s family could be identified and caught.

No, tonight’s extra-special foray into moody sarcasm all had to do with a leggy, ash-blond defense attorney who’d made mincemeat out of the attempted murder-for-hire investigation he and Hud had turned over to the DA’s office on Monday. It had taken Kenna Parker only five days of motions and court appearances to punch holes in their airtight case. The hoity-toity plastic surgeon who’d talked to Keir in an undercover op about hiring him to kill his estranged wife before she could divorce him and cost him a fortune in alimony had gotten off with little more than a slap on the wrist.

Yes, the guy was now under an ethics investigation by the state medical board—a sidebar that could cost him his license or, at the very least, put a dent in his lucrative medical practice. But that wasn’t the same as a judge acknowledging that Detective Keir Watson had done his job right. Kenna “the Terminator” Parker hadn’t even really cleared Dr. Andrew Colbern of conspiracy to commit murder—she’d just raised enough doubts about Keir’s competence and a few seconds of static on the recording he’d made of the conversation that Colbern was walking.

“Did you see how she booked it out of the courtroom right after the judge announced his ruling?” Hud punctuated his condemning tone with a long swallow of his beer. “That’s just rubbing her victory in our faces.”

Keir eyed the foamy amber liquid in his mug. “She probably went off to pop open a magnum of champagne at our expense.”

Hud turned the brown bottle in his hand, then grinned. “Well, then let’s just hope she’s drinkin’ it alone, my friend.”

“You got that right.” Keir clinked his mug against Hud’s bottle, but he couldn’t match his partner’s good humor.

They’d failed to prove Colbern’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, according to the Terminator. Interesting what kind of justice a lot of money and a killer law firm could buy.

Well, reputation meant everything to him, too. Keir Watson didn’t botch cases. When he investigated a crime, he got answers. No matter how long it took, he got the job done.

“I swear that woman is going to make me a better cop,” Keir vowed, remembering the smug smile on her copper-tinted lips as she’d packed up her briefcase and passed him on her way out of the courtroom. “Next time she shows up in court, she won’t be able to raise the issue of entrapment and question technicalities or make her client look more like the victim than the woman he tried to have killed. The next time I’m testifying against one of her clients, I’ll make her look like the idiot.”

Hud raised his bottle again. “Then, to the downfall of the Terminator.”

“Amen.” Keir swallowed a healthy portion of the beer and whiskey, savoring the heat seeping down his gullet. Half a drink later, Keir still couldn’t erase the tension in him and felt himself turning inward, replaying each step of the case he’d put together, and each trick Kenna Parker had used to pull it apart.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, only half listening to Hud regale him with a story about his first encounter with an attorney as a teenager, protesting a ticket in his small-town traffic court. Something about the lawyer being the judge’s second cousin’s daughter’s boyfriend, and the judge declaring a conflict of interest and dismissing the speeding ticket because the guy was family, and there wasn’t anyone else in town who wasn’t related who could represent him. Hardly a problem someone with Kenna Parker’s legal eagle pedigree would ever have to face.

Sitting here tonight, fuming over the case that had gotten tossed, Keir knew he wasn’t very good company. Hud, on the other hand, could blow off the tension once he was away from the job in ways that Keir wasn’t able to. Maybe he’d better cut his partner loose to play a game of pool or share a drink with one of the local ladies who had a thing for cops. Keir downed the last of his beer and Bushmill’s and pushed the mug away, intent on heading home where he could stew in silence—or more likely, pull out his case file against Andrew Colbern and reread the transcript of his undercover conversation to figure out exactly where he’d misspoken so he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.