A DANGEROUS REUNION

After he couldn’t save her brother, army first sergeant Josh Walker isn’t about to let anything happen to Andrea Donovan. Josh may have saved her from one attack, but drug smugglers are desperate to get information about one of Andrea’s patients—a patient who’s disappeared without a trace. Despite the danger, the beautiful counselor refuses to hand over confidential files. Now Josh and Andrea have no choice but to battle on for their lives—and their love—or they’ll be the latest casualty to get caught in the crossfire.

“Andrea? It’s Josh Walker.”

She’d just been wishing to hear his voice, just been wishing for the comfort of his presence.

“Josh. How are you?” She shook the envelope and let the contents slide into her hand.

Whatever Josh’s answer was, it was drowned out by the sudden buzz in her ears. Staring up at her from the photo in her hand was her own face as she spoke to the homeless man who often dropped by the office. Red ink scrawled across the image. Stop what you’re doing. The image was taken through the scope of a rifle, crosshairs centered on her forehead.

In Josh’s mind flashed giant red lights. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Andrea.”

The silence stretched on too long. “Someone sent me pictures.” Andrea’s voice held a measured control that did nothing to ease his mind. “Of me. At the counseling center. Two days ago.”

Josh would not let this happen. He’d failed to act the last time. This time would be different. “I’m coming over. Call the police.”

JODIE BAILEY

has been weaving stories since she learned how to hold a pencil. It was only recently she learned that everyone doesn’t make up whole other lives for fun in their spare time. She is an army wife, a mom and a teacher who believes chocolate and a trip to the Outer Banks will cure all ills. In her spare time, she reads cookbooks, rides motorcycles and searches for the perfect cup of coffee. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband and her daughter.

Crossfire

Jodie Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

—Psalms 147:3

To Paul—God blessed me with you beyond my wildest dreams. Everything I ever asked Him for? You’re so much more.

To Cailin—You are God’s greatest gift to me and your daddy. I love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond.

Acknowledgments

Dad, I believe God is my daddy God who loves me, because you showed me what sacrificial, unconditional love from a father really looks like. Thank you.

Mom, you are my biggest, loudest cheerleader. Thank you!

Emily Rodmell, you are the queen of editors. I love getting edits back from you and seeing how much better everything is after you’ve stepped alongside and poured into it. Thank you, thank you for taking these words and making them sing!

Kimberly Buckner, Donna Moore and Christina Nelson, you are prayer warriors, partners and friends of the deepest part of my heart. God definitely knew what He was doing when He threw a bunch of random strangers together. Lucky 13!

My “beta readers,” Glenda Cook, Dawn Lucowitz, Jennifer McCarty and Kristin Dudish, thank you for the time and the attention to detail that made Crossfire what it is. I’m in awe.…

Lesley Cooper, “my Lesley,” who shouts across parking lots when I finish a book, who gives ear to my whining and loves me anyway. Laura Ott, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t taken on my daughter as your own and if you hadn’t let me just talk and talk. Laura Harris… you know what you did, Rock Star.

My church family, you are prayer warriors and awesome supporters, as are you, Freedom Christian family!

Paul and Cailin, you put up with deadlines, meltdowns, M&M binges and Mommy hunched over the computer for hours. I couldn’t do this if you didn’t cheer me on. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Jesus. Oh, Jesus. You truly do make all things new.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

Andrea Donovan stood at the glass-fronted entrance of her counseling center and watched the last patient of the day trek across the broiling parking lot to his car. The heat of the July Georgia sun blunted the edges of the world, giving the appearance that everything outside lay underwater. Her client eased onto Victory Drive, leaving her car alone in the parking lot save for a pickup truck idling near the gas station that neighbored her building.

Andrea looked out for a moment longer before she headed back to her office to shut down her computer and collect her files. She still had notes to make for her last patient, but all of her energy seemed to have drained into a pool at her feet. So many hurting people walked through her doors. It drained her, but in a way that made the end of the day seem more satisfying than brutal.

After gathering a stack of old documents for the shredder, Andrea stepped out to the empty reception desk in the lobby.

An unfamiliar man blocked her path. Adrenaline rocketed from Andrea’s core and tingled in her fingertips.

Broad-shouldered, dark-haired and square-jawed, in jeans and a navy button-down shirt, he effectively blocked the small space between the desk and the door. His bulk and the determined expression chiseled on his face radiated menacing vibes that plucked at Andrea’s flight response.

She took a step back, but the only place to run was to her windowless office. No outlet there. Swallowing hard, she drew herself up to her full five feet and six inches. It had better look more imposing than it felt. “Can I help you?”

The man’s dark eyes raked over her, sizing her up and dismissing her as less threatening than a June bug. “You’re Donovan? The counselor lady?” His posture said he wasn’t here to ask for help.

“I am. Is there something I can do for you?” She gripped the papers tighter, wishing for the first time for the rifle she’d carried in combat on active duty six years ago. Not that she’d use it, but the knowledge that it was available would go miles toward making her feel safer in this guy’s presence.

“I need to talk to you about Wade Cameron. You’re his head doc, right?” His eyes took in the papers in Andrea’s arms, then drifted over her head, scanning her office. “Where’s he at?”

“He’s certainly not here.” Her mind flipped through her calendar. Army Specialist Wade Cameron hadn’t been to see her in weeks. He’d graduated from weekly counseling sessions to AA meetings and conversations with his sponsor.

“Sure he’s not.” A cold half smile quirked the man’s mouth in a way that was anything but comforting. “You won’t mind if I take a look around then? Maybe get a peek at your file on him? Seems he might have left a message in there for me.”

Andrea arched an eyebrow as her fear dissolved into fierce she-wolf protection. Specialist Cameron was one of her success stories, fighting his way out of a vicious cycle of PTSD-fueled alcohol addiction. The way he laughed so easily and carried himself with such dignity reminded her too much of Brendan, making her realize how much she had to make up for. No way was this street thug going to bully her into giving up confidential information on that kid.

She spaced her feet wider and squared her shoulders. If she got the man talking, maybe it would buy time to work her way around him to the door. “And you are?” From this angle, there was no view of the parking lot, but she desperately hoped someone driving by on Victory Drive would get a clue as to what was happening.

“You got a nice place here. Still smells a little like fresh paint sometimes, huh? You’ve been open here, what? Six months?” He stepped closer. “Shame if something should happen to this building if you don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Andrea’s knees weakened. She gripped the edge of the desk. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you?” Only God could have gotten those words out of her mouth without them trembling.

“Just admiring your pretty building. And its...interesting location. Now...” He took one more step toward Andrea as she held her ground. “I am here to find my friend and to get a look at his file.” The man’s voice dropped as his jaw hardened. “If that’s not asking too much of you. If it is, you can step out of the way and let me find it myself. Or I can move you. You can choose.”

Without taking the time for her mind to process the action, Andrea reached behind her, jammed the lock, and yanked the office door shut as the man lunged. In less than a blink, his body thudded into the heavy wooden door as she sidestepped around him, adrenaline charging through her on electric rails.

She lunged for the front door and the relative safety of the parking lot. Just as her fingertips made contact with the glass, a corded arm snapped around her waist and jerked her back, lifting her feet from the floor.

“Very, very bad idea, Doc.” The voice rumbled against her ear and washed cold fear down her spine. “I want the kid. And if you can’t give me the kid, I want his file, because I need what’s in it. And if you can’t give me that, then you can come with me and tell me everything you know. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the easiest way to solve two very big problems.” He yanked her tighter against his chest. “Sound like a good plan to you?”

No. She struggled against the weight that held her back, clawed at the sleeves of his shirt, kicked at the air. Her mind searched her old army training for a way out. He held her too tight for an elbow to the ribs, too high for a heel to the instep. In a feat of sheer muscle memory, she jerked her head back as hard as she could and connected with the soft tissue of his nose.

Her attacker roared, and his grip loosened enough for her to break free and drop to the floor. Her knees and hands struggled for grip on the ancient tile.

His hands clamped around her ankle as her fingertips brushed the door and jerked her away from the only chance she had at freedom. Andrea scratched at the gray tile, clawing for traction, her fingernails catching a rough edge and ripping off. This would not be her end, on the floor of her own lobby. With a silent prayer and the last of her energy, she threw herself onto her back, her ankle twisting in her attacker’s grip, and kicked her free foot straight up.

The sound of teeth crunching together echoed through the room as her heel connected with the stranger’s chin and drove his head back.

He staggered back, hands covering his face, teetering as though he might fall.

Andrea skittered across the floor and half rose in a backward drive for freedom.

With a howl that should have shaken the windows, the man ripped his hands from his face, blood slinging across the floor, and roared toward her again, his eyes glinting black murder.

As his fingers grasped her forearm and jerked her forward in a grip that felt like iron, the door opened and Andrea struggled for footing. As she did, a solid object crashed into the back of her shoulders, doubling her over as a second attacker rammed into her, knocking her onto her face.

There was a crash, a grunt and the sounds of fists on flesh. A swift kick jolted her thigh, as someone vaulted over her and out the door, then there was only silence, save the heavy breathing of the one man left in the lobby.

Andrea pushed to her hands and knees as fast as her shaking limbs would allow. Dragging in what might be her last breath, she steeled herself and prepared to go down fighting.

* * *

First Sergeant Josh Walker scrambled up, his first instinct to aid the woman on the floor, but he had to catch the man who had done this to her. He charged out the door in time to watch a burgundy sedan rocket out of the parking lot in a spray of dust and tire smoke. A groan roiled in the back of his throat as he balled his fists in frustration. The car was definitely a Chevy, but it was too far away to get the license plate. There was no way the police would arrive on the scene before that clown blended in with the end-of-duty-day traffic on Victory Drive.

The soft scrape of the door opening behind him pulled him to more immediate concerns. The woman. In the lobby. Nausea coiled in his stomach and looped through the familiar burn of condemnation. He’d chased off her attacker but had failed to catch him. He never seemed to quite follow through.

Josh pivoted and drew back as the woman’s fist rocketed toward his head. He ducked to one side, but his awkward stance kept him from moving fast enough. The solid blow caught him square on his cheekbone, shooting stars through his field of vision. A series of rapid blinks cleared his eyesight in time to watch her rear back for round two.

Steadying himself on the door frame, he caught her fist with his free hand, squeezing a little tighter than he would have if she hadn’t just coldcocked him. “Hey, hey. I’m the good guy. I promise.” Leftover adrenaline edged his words and clouded his vision.

She jerked her arm to free herself from his grip, and he eased up a little, recognizing the fringes of hysteria in her green eyes. “Look at me.” He dropped his voice to what he hoped was a soothing whisper, the one that used to work on his black lab during rocking thunderstorms. “Look at me. You’re safe.”

Her attention finally focused on him and, as the energy dissipated, he relaxed his hold on her hand only to tighten it again in a jolt of recognition. Andrea Donovan? The world couldn’t possibly be that small.

The way her jaw slackened spoke more than words. It was her. And what was more amazing...she recognized him, too.

“Josh Walker?” His name rode an exhale barely above a whisper, one that held as much incredulity as he felt.

Josh nodded once, his voice free-falling to the pit of his stomach. It was ridiculous he hadn’t recognized her sooner. It couldn’t be possible that the last time he’d laid eyes on Andrea had been right out of high school. Too many years ago. He should do now what he’d been so tempted to do then, pull her close and shield her from the pain that tried to beat its way into her life.

With a deep sigh and a shake of her head, Andrea extricated herself from his grip and stepped back. She winced and stumbled as her weight shifted to her right foot.

Josh reached out and grasped the arms of the woman he had tried so often to forget, keeping her from slumping to the floor. Shoving his shock aside, he focused on the task at hand. Blending the past with the present was more than his brain could handle at this point. “Take it easy. You took a pretty vicious twist when you whipped around on him. Nice blow to the jaw, by the way.” His lip curved into a wry smile. “His, not mine.” When she didn’t respond, his practiced eyes took in her pale face and tight lips. “You okay?”

Nodding, she let him open the door and lead her into the lobby where she sank down onto one of the brown pleather chairs in the small waiting room. “I’m fine.”

Her shaking hands said differently, but Josh kept his mouth shut. He had no right to ask more of her. And given her current agitation, she might decide to swing again.

“Where did you come from?” she asked him.

Josh knelt in front of her but kept his distance. “The parking lot.”

The look she fired his way let him know he’d completely misunderstood the question. “I meant how did you wind up here in my office?”

Yeah, it sent him reeling, too, seeing her out of context like this. He tapped his chest where his rank anchored to the front of his uniform. “First sergeant in Third Infantry. I joined the army during college.” He swallowed hard against rising memories about why he signed up, and switched gears on the conversation. “Any idea who that guy was?”

Still clearly on high alert, Andrea shook her head and stared at the door. Was it the attack or him that caused her muscles to tense?

His eyes followed hers, but there was no movement outside in the summer heat. After a quick scan to make sure no one lurked behind the lone car still out there, Josh pushed himself to his feet and glanced at the desk behind him. More than anything, he needed distance. “I’m going to call the police so they can be on the lookout. I can identify the car. Can you give them a description of the guy?”

The tremors moved from her hands, up her arms and through her body. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked up at him. “Definitely. And after you call the police you can call a locksmith. I locked my car keys in my office and the only other set is at my apartment.” Her lips twisted into a rueful, if shaky, smile. “And my apartment keys are on the same key ring. That just caps my day, doesn’t it? First I get jumped, and now I can’t go home.”

Her green eyes latched on to his, as if she was looking for confirmation that it was okay to relax. They were the color of those old-fashioned Coke bottles, clearer and purer than he remembered. For a second, Josh couldn’t break away, but he shook it off and forced himself to go make the call. She’d probably give him a black eye if she could read his thoughts. He’d seen her in action.

“So, Andrea.” It had been so many years since he’d spoken her name that it felt foreign on his tongue. “This is your office? You started this place?” The chaplain had passed on the information about the counseling center to his chain of command, but he’d never heard her name associated with it.

“Yeah.” She shuddered and flexed the fingers of the hand that had recently met his cheek. “I’m sorry I tried to deck you.”

“No worries. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable.” Josh bit back a smile as he picked up the phone and took note of the stack of business cards on the counter. Andrea Donovan. So she wasn’t married, unless she was one of those women who refused to take her husband’s name. Not that he should be noticing.

The name still fit her as it always had, soft and girlish at first glance, but tough on the next look. The admiration building in him quenched itself under a heavy dose of guilt. She wouldn’t have had to be tough if he’d have come to the rescue earlier. Then again, it looked as if she’d done a pretty good job of rescuing herself. Ten seconds more and she probably wouldn’t have needed him at all.

Or she’d have been dead. He shook off the thought. There was no sense living in what might have been, especially when God had definitely kept the worst from happening. And there was no other explanation for this bizarre twist to his day, no other reason for him to be here other than to watch over her, to somehow fix what he’d broken years ago.

After a brief conversation with the police, Josh sank into a chair near Andrea. “You doing okay?”

She looked up from flexing her ankle. “I’m still here, thanks to you, and my ankle hurts less every second. All in all, it ended better than it should have.” Before Josh could dig deeper, she rested her foot on the floor and gripped her knees. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Josh sprang to his feet, his pulse quickening and driving hammers into the impact point on his cheek. He never should have forgotten why he was here in the first place. “Specialist Cameron. Where is he?”

The question barely ended before Andrea reacted. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, she stood gingerly and faced off, fists clenched. “What’s going on, Josh?”

* * *

Prickles of fear crawled up Andrea’s spine and spread into her fingernails. The boy she’d known years ago was now the man who happened into her office at just the right time? Two men bursting in to ask about the same young soldier? More than a dozen years had passed since she last laid eyes on Josh, and there was no way to tell what he’d gotten into in the intervening time. For all intents and purposes, he was as much a stranger as the giant she’d kicked in the face.

Andrea crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. Her mind whirled for a way to escape while her ankle protested enough to let her know in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t expect to make a run for it and get very far. Take control of the situation. Buck his authority. Let him know you’re in charge. “What do you want with Specialist Cameron?”

Perplexity floated across the brown eyes that locked on to hers. Josh’s eyebrows drew together in a V, betraying his confusion at her barely concealed accusation. “He’s one of my soldiers. Where is he?” His gaze darted around the room, taking in each corner.

“Clearly, he’s not here. And your friend who just ran out of here got the same speech from me. I won’t tell you the last time I saw Specialist Cameron, but I will tell you it wasn’t today.” Andrea held her breath and stiffened her spine, unwilling to believe Josh could be on the wrong side of this, but knowing she had to protect herself and Wade if he was.

“My friend?” He looked back to her, and a sudden flicker of understanding darkened his features. “Wait a second. You think I was with the punk who just busted in here and tried to tear you into pieces?”

“You’re both asking for the same person. That’s a little too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Indignation surged through Andrea, and she fought to hold it back. Her ankle might be throbbing, but her fists were ready to fly. She’d show this dark-eyed man he’d messed with the wrong woman if he so much as breathed too hard. He’d have more than a bruised cheek to worry about if...

She tilted her head. Had she actually given him that bruise? Smug warmth heated her face. Sweet. She still had it, even at thirty-two and after six years of sitting behind a desk.

Josh cleared his throat. “I have no idea what your first visitor wanted, but I can tell you that at approximately 1630 I watched Specialist Wade Cameron walk through those doors—” he jerked his thumb behind him “—and take a left turn.” His eyes scanned the lobby and lit on a door as his words evaporated into the muggy air.

Andrea tipped her head, still tensed for a fight. What was he talking about? “Wade never came in here. At 4:30 I was halfway through a fifty-minute session. With my receptionist Grace on vacation, Wade would have sat right here in these chairs and waited if you dropped him off here.” She stepped between Josh and the door he still eyed. “That’s a supply closet. The only other way out of this building is down that hall.” She pointed behind her to an opening near her office, on the opposite side of the lobby from the closet. “But that door’s always locked and it’s armed with a fire alarm. The only way out without making a racket is to unlock it and turn it off with the key, and only my receptionist and I have one.”

“He’s in that closet, then. I never saw him come back across the lobby, and there’s nowhere else in here he could be,” Josh muttered, moving to brush past her.

“Hold on.” Andrea planted a palm against his chest. It felt like a brick wall. Her hand burned against him. Liquid warmth seeped through her muscles, robbing them of their readiness. Was she crazy? The guy could be in league with the man who attacked her and she was noticing his chest? Maybe she should be the one having her head examined. She swallowed hard and willed her muscles back into fight mode. “Why did you bring Wade here?”

“You’re his counselor, I’m assuming? Alcohol abuse? He came to me and said he was struggling, that he’d slipped and started—”

“No.” Andrea braced her free hand on the reception counter. History couldn’t repeat itself. It couldn’t. They’d worked too hard to set him free. “There’s no way. Wade isn’t using again. That’s not possible.” Wade Cameron had come so far. He’d shown up in her office with an alcohol addiction so strong he couldn’t even get out of bed to go to physical training without a shot. When that didn’t work, he’d turned to marijuana. One hit, and he knew he’d gone too far. That was the day he’d shown up in her office, begging for help, ready to break the craving that was dragging him to his knees through the muck, threatening to ruin his career.

Josh softened. “He asked for help. He has a lot of respect for you. Not too long ago, he told me if anything ever happened to him I should see his counselor, Andrea. I had no problem bringing him here and waiting for him to come out again, only—”

“He never came out. But he never talked to me and there’s no way he got out the back door.”

* * *

Betrayal locked Josh’s back teeth together, shooting pain through the muscles in his injured cheek. He should never have teamed up with her brother to teach her how to defend herself. He took two steps toward the closed closet.

Andrea pushed herself from the counter and grabbed his biceps. “No. Give him a chance to come out before you go barging in. If he’s hiding, there’s a reason. Let him man up and face you instead of dragging him out like a child.”

Josh bit back a groan. Leave it to a therapist to play mind games. Fine. He’d call his soldier out, but he’d do it with every ounce of his authority. “Cameron!” The roar echoed off the walls.

Andrea jumped. “I didn’t mean so loud,” she muttered. “You make me want to hide in the closet.”

With a quick, amused glance in her direction, Josh took a deep breath and swallowed some of his ire. If he were a scared kid, he wouldn’t come out to bellowing, either. But any coward who hid while a lady fought off an attacker didn’t deserve much leniency in his book. Still, he’d humor her and lower his voice, but he refused to tone down the sternness. “Let’s go, Cameron. Time to talk.”

No sound leaked from the closet.

“You scared him.” Andrea wasn’t smiling anymore. “Let me handle it.” She stepped to the door. “Wade, it’s Andrea Donovan. The only two people out here are me and First Sergeant Walker. It’s safe.”

When nothing happened, Josh’s blood pressure soared. “This has gone far enough,” he muttered, his words drowned out by sirens from an approaching police car. Without wasting another second, he slipped around Andrea and yanked the wooden supply closet door open.

It was empty.

Wade Cameron had vanished.

TWO

When the front door to her apartment closed behind her, Andrea peered through the peephole and watched the policeman who had escorted her home disappear from sight down the heavy metal stairs. They’d searched her office building, taken her statement and Josh’s, and insisted the paramedics give her a once-over. When they were finally convinced her ankle was only twisted and she’d been allowed to leave, the police had discovered Wade had crawled out through the drop ceiling to the office next door and walked out the back. The whole evening took on a surreal quality colored by a heightened emotional hangover and fatigue.

She turned and pressed her back against the door, staring at the empty space of an apartment that suddenly felt larger than the White House. What if the guy she’d kicked in the face had followed her home? What if he knew where she lived and was already here waiting?

Her spine dug into the door as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She’d chosen this apartment because its third-floor location meant the door was the only way in. Now, alone in the dark, only one way in meant only one way out. She’d been all bravado in front of Josh, confident after bruising her attacker, but being alone now seemed to make the day’s events loom larger.

Josh. It had been years since she’d last seen him. He’d been her brother’s high school baseball teammate, her first really big crush. The times he’d allowed his senior self to hang around a freshman like her, she’d have thought he’d dropped to one knee and proposed with a six-carat solitaire.

Andrea rolled her eyes heavenward and let them slip shut. Lord Jesus, please don’t let him remember the way I gushed over him back then. That humiliation might be ten times worse than an attempted snatch and grab in her office lobby.

The feeling that unseen eyes watched her slowly dissipated as Andrea dropped the mail on the kitchen counter then marched through the apartment, flipping on lights and peeking in closets. Back in the kitchen, the neon of the microwave clock declared it to be nearly eleven. No wonder she was hungry enough to chew the linoleum like a puppy.

She dug a frozen chicken dinner out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave as a thought occurred to her. Puppies. Andrea had never been a dog person, but tonight it sure would be nice to have one. A dog would curl up beside her on the love seat and make her feel a little less alone. A dog would sound an alarm if someone tried to sneak in while sleep left her vulnerable.

Like sleep was going to happen anytime soon.

Every time she blinked, that giant of a man loomed in front of her. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like when she turned off the lights and actually shut her eyes. He’d likely materialize in her room and try to steal her again.

And this time, there would be no Josh Walker to intervene.

He’d taken her number with a promise to call if anyone found Wade Cameron, but she seriously doubted there would be a call from him otherwise. He’d barely said a personal word to her all evening. Even all these years later, that dredged up vague disappointment.

The beep of the microwave drowned out her chuckle. Guess some dreams never really died. Especially not the ones dreamed over melting ice cream and soft drinks with giggly girlfriends on warm spring days at high school baseball fields. Of course, the other girls were giggling over her brother. Back then it had been disgusting but now, with the haze of time to soften the edges of her memory, she could see where they’d found Brendan interesting. If only...

The shaking started again, but this time it came from the inside out, from the sudden rush of emotion at her brother’s memory. The stainless-steel refrigerator door supported Andrea as she leaned back, trying to breathe through the internal assault. First the attack and now the memories. The army had taught her to keep a warrior’s fist on her emotions, to kick fear into the nearest Iraqi canal. If an ambush on her convoy in the desert couldn’t take her down, neither would a lone giant in her very own office.

With shaking hands, Andrea pulled the plastic tray from the microwave and grimaced at the contents, then dropped them into the trash. Peanut butter and jelly had to be better than this.

She was sloshing milk into a tall glass when her cell phone trilled. Nerves shook her hand and she stifled a groan as milk sloshed onto the mail she’d tossed to the counter earlier. Beautiful. It felt like the worst thing that could happen, the last nail in the coffin of a twisted day.

Andrea slammed the carton down and pinched the bridge of her nose. No way. She’d been through too much to morph into the girl who cried over spilled milk.

She snatched the phone from the counter and answered as she shoved envelopes away from the puddle of milk, streaking white across the dark stone. “Hello?” Her voice stretched as she reached for the towel hanging from the stove handle and mopped up the mess.

“Andrea?”

The deep timbre of the voice froze her hand in midswipe. Something about it made her heart take a side step, but it wasn’t fear this time. It might be worse.

Cold milk seeped through the towel to her fingers, jolting her from her thoughts. “Oh!” Envelopes flew across the stovetop as she flicked her wrist in dismissal. “I mean, yes. It’s me. Who is this?” Her mind wasn’t sure, but her heart didn’t have much doubt. Stupid memories.

There was a long pause from the other end of the line. “It’s Josh Walker.” His voice teetered slightly on the edge of uncertainty.

She’d just been wishing to hear his voice, just been wishing for the comfort of his presence. It was more than she’d thought it would be, washing a peace over her that defied description, the kind of peace she hadn’t felt since... There was no way to remember when.

Distraction. There had to be a way to get away from the emotions his voice conjured. Nestling the phone in the crook of her neck, she gripped the nearest envelope and tore the end open. Even a credit card offer would be better than acknowledging she hadn’t matured a whit since she was in high school. “Josh. How are you?” That was lame. She shook the envelope and let the contents slide into her hand, wishing life had a rewind button for moments like this.

Whatever Josh’s answer was, it was drowned out by the sudden buzz in her ears. Staring up at her from the top photo in her hand was her own face as she spoke to the homeless man who often dropped by the office. Words, written in red ink, were scrawled across the image. Stop what you’re doing. The image was taken through the scope of a rifle...and the crosshairs were centered on her forehead.

* * *

Josh’s mind flashed giant red lights. “What’s going on?” He sat up from where he’d flopped down on his couch as he’d dialed her number. Something had told him to call her. Had they found her? His feet hit the floor. “Did that guy—”

“No.” The word was tight, like she’d wrapped it in rubber bands.

Something definitely wasn’t right. “Talk to me, Andrea.”

“Give me a second!” It was a whip shot straight to his gut. Either she didn’t want to talk to him or very bad things were happening. Neither was good.

The silence nearly stretched on too long. “Someone sent me pictures.” Andrea’s voice held a measured control that did nothing to ease his mind. “Of me. At the counseling center. Two days ago.” The pause seemed to crackle with her tension. “Through a high-powered scope.”

Josh’s back teeth ground together. He would not let this happen. He’d failed to act the last time, and the consequences still haunted him. This time would be different. “I’m coming over. Call the police, and I’ll be there as—”

“Stop it.” For the first time since she answered the phone, it didn’t sound as if there was a script in front of her. “There’s no reason for you to come here. All you can do is confirm for yourself that the photos exist.”

“At least call the police.”

“It’s pointless. I managed to dump milk all over them before I touched them. Nobody’s going to find anything.” She sighed. “Realistically, what are they going to do? I’ve been through this with a client before. I’ll have to keep the pictures and establish a pattern of harassment. And get a restraining order against...who? Nobody even knows who this guy is.”

“There are emergency restraining orders.”

“I know, but I’ll be honest.” She sniffed. “I can’t take any more tonight. More police and more acknowledgement that this happened... It almost seems worse than the threat.”

This wasn’t something Andrea needed to dismiss so easily. If she planned to distance herself from anything, it shouldn’t be the danger. And the way she was talking, she’d chosen ignorance over her own safety. “You’re not considering the obvious.” It was a bad move, whether or not he understood it. Too often overseas, he’d been tempted to lull himself into a false sense of security, to seek refuge in denial. But he’d watched one too many good soldiers die because he’d chosen the delusion of peace over the reality of imminent harm. Letting Andrea do the same wasn’t part of his DNA.

“Believe me. I know. This isn’t just about Wade’s file. It might not even be about Wade at all. I don’t know what to even consider. The thing I need most right now is to sleep and forget this is happening for a few hours, but we both know that probably won’t happen.”

He should hang up on her and call the police himself, but the likelihood of her forgiving him after that was pretty much nonexistent. If he severed ties with her, who would watch her back? If she wanted to go on her own, the least he could do was go with her. “Okay, against my better judgment, you can have your way. For now.” Even as he said the words, second thoughts tore him apart. This went against all common sense. “But you have to let me do something.”

The silence was long, and he let her have it. From what he remembered, pushing her was a guaranteed way to make her turn in on herself, like the armadillos that were so prevalent in the woods around Fort Benning. “What I need, I guess, is...to talk about something else. To be distracted. To not be alone.”

Whatever cracked around his heart caused an almost physical pain. Alone. It was a feeling he knew all too well. He swallowed hard against what the sound of her voice did to his heart and sought for something to say. “You’re really okay?” Why did his voice go four octaves deeper than usual?

He cleared his throat. It seemed like something had been stuck there ever since he climbed in his truck to drive home and realized he’d come face-to-face with Andrea Donovan again.

How could her unexpected appearance yank at something so deep inside him? He knew muscle memory was real. Years of training had proven it to him. Emotional memory was a new one. Apparently it existed, and it was strong. The things her voice did to him shouldn’t happen this long after he’d last seen her, especially with all that had happened, but his skin prickled nonetheless.

“I’m okay.” She took a breath so deep it echoed over the phone line. “I’m just really, really hungry.”

Josh laughed so suddenly and so loudly it almost scared him. He just hoped she didn’t think he was laughing at her.

To his relief, she joined him.

His immediate purpose drew into sharper focus. Right now, Andrea needed him to do his best to fix this moment. “That sounded more like it should have been my line.”

“It is what it is.” She was clearly chewing. “Girls get hungry, too.”

“And it sounds like they talk with their mouths full. So never call a guy a pig again. I know you’ve probably done it before. Every girl has.”

She giggled, and the sound ran up his spine like lightning.

Josh dropped back onto the couch and stretched his feet out in front of him. The memory of her laughing as she watched her brother’s baseball games played like a movie in front of him. It had been a challenge to keep his eye on the ball from third base. She’d flip her hair over her shoulder and throw her head back at something one of her friends said and, for a moment, he’d forget about base hits and ground balls. Yeah, she’d cost him an out or two back in the day.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. He’d forgive her.

It warmed him that she hadn’t changed, that something of the girl he once knew still existed in the woman who’d stumbled back into his life today. What would it take to hear that laugh again? Back then he’d only enjoyed it from a distance. Every time they’d gotten close, she’d turned inside herself, grown quiet, the laughter disappearing from her eyes. Something about him had turned her so far off she ceased to be herself whenever he was around. Whatever it was, it seemed to have dissipated over the years. Josh took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to force the thoughts away. Frankly, he’d take what he could get. “What’re you eating?”

“PB&J and a big ol’ glass of milk.” There was a pause, then her voice cleared after she swallowed. “Fighting for her life leaves a girl sort of hungry.” The words didn’t quite sound as light as she probably wanted them to.

The fear around the edges struck a nerve. More than anything, Josh wanted to slay that dragon for her. The only thing he could do from his couch was keep her talking. He scanned his living room as though a topic of conversation would suddenly appear. “So, you’re a rehab counselor now?” He winced. That might keep her talking, but it wasn’t a subject he necessarily wanted to broach.

“Substance abuse counselor. I was in the army for a while. I went in after Brendan...” Her voice weakened on her brother’s name, but came back strong. “But then I decided I wanted to do something for the soldiers who are too afraid of having their careers destroyed if they go to army counseling or use Tricare to pay for services, so here I am working with soldiers and their families. Private donors and churches keep the doors open.”

Her passion touched something deep inside him and sparked an appreciation she’d likely never understand. The desire to unload the whole story onto her nearly overwhelmed him, but he swallowed the words. She’d never forgive him, and he couldn’t sever this tenuous bond now, not before he saw this to the end, protected now like he’d failed to protect so many years ago. “You see a lot of Brendan in these soldiers.”

The line grew silent, the moments stretching so thin they almost groaned in protest. “Andrea?”

She sighed. “Especially in Wade.”

His fingers tightened on the phone. This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d intended, but he was in too deep now to pull out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral.” He was. Sorrier than she knew. But he could never tell her why.

“I’ve heard it was a nice ceremony.”

“You weren’t there?”

“I was there.” The sound of running water and the clink of glass on metal leaked through the phone, then silence. “I don’t remember any of it. All I remember is anger. Everything’s colored red, like there’s a haze over it.” Her voice was too matter-of-fact, too clinical.

There was no locating the source of the urge, but Josh knew he couldn’t let her hide. “Anger at whom? Your brother?”

“Brendan, whoever got him started on heroin in the first place, his chain of command for not seeing it—”

“Yourself for not stopping it.” Those thoughts never should have left his mouth, echoing guilt she was bound to hear. He cleared his throat. “He cared a lot about you, you know.” So did I.

“I know.” She sniffed. “You know what the hard part is? Not knowing. Did he do it on purpose or was that the one hit that was too much for his body to handle?”

“I think—” He stopped. Now was not the time for that discussion.

“I’m so done with thinking right now.” Her voice dragged low, like the emotion gave added weight to the words.

What was going on in her head? Did she want to talk, or had she had enough of him for one day? His presence had to be a reminder of what she’d suffered. He’d err toward not making a pest of himself. “I’ll let you go and eat. I’m sure you’re starved after—”

“No. Don’t.”

Those short words he understood. “Anything wrong?”

The silence hung heavy. “I... Don’t hang up yet, okay?”

Her request grabbed his heart in a fist. Never. After an appeal like that, there was no way he could. At the rate things were going, he’d likely never leave her alone again.

THREE

The midmorning sun baked the red brick of the counseling center and poured heat onto the brown metal roof of the eighties-era building. Reflected light bounced off the glass doors at an angle that obliterated the view into the lobby.

Andrea gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were the color of kindergarten paste. She twisted her fingers on the vinyl and squinted against the glare to see if anyone moved inside the building, but she could see nothing. She should have called Josh and asked him to meet her early, although that bordered on a paranoia she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Acknowledged or not, it was there. The photos she’d received in the mail were safely at the police station, dropped off on her way to work this morning, but not before she’d photographed them with her phone. Andrea pulled up the most detailed image and studied it, trying to calculate the angle from which it was taken. Twisting to look over her shoulder, she scanned the wooded area across the street.

The trees were thick and dark, marking the line between Columbus and Fort Benning with thick pines and low-growing foliage. There were a thousand places to hide. Whoever took those photos could have walked into that undeveloped spot from anywhere, could have hidden behind any tree. Likely, there wouldn’t be any witnesses. Worse... Was the person there even now, aiming at her again?

A shadow fell across the interior of her car as someone tapped on the driver window.

Andrea’s shriek ricocheted off the windshield. She jumped sideways, away from the driver’s-side door and the steely eyes of the man peering in.

“Doc, it’s just me.” The voice, colored in concern, drifted toward her on a wave of familiarity. A craggy, sun-weathered face peered into the window, a sunwashed black Dale Earnhardt baseball cap pulled low over faded blond hair and concerned gray-blue eyes. “You okay in there?”

Andrea swallowed a cry of relief. “Dutch.” She pressed a hand to her chest to force her heart back into its rightful place.

The older man stepped back as she pushed the car door open and stepped out on shaky legs. He grasped her elbow to steady her as she gripped the top of the door and tried to find her wayward composure. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Dutch had shown up in the parking lot of her building a couple of months ago, looking for work to help him get back on his feet. When the center grew busier as more units redeployed from overseas, he picked up the pace, showing up several days a week, right on schedule, to sweep the floors and neaten the parking lot. Andrea had no idea where he slept at night, but most of his days were spent drifting up and down this end of Victory Drive, rain or shine, picking up cans and bottles or helping shop owners with odd jobs.

“I’m fine. At least now that you’re here.” Thank God for Dutch. She’d all but forgotten it was Friday, one of his regular days to drop by.

Dutch slipped his cap back and scratched his hairline. “Whatcha mean by now that I’m here?”

Andrea jiggled the keys in her pocket and gripped her bag tighter as they neared the front of the building, only half hearing Dutch’s question. At the door, she ran her hand over her name etched there, the tangible mark of a dream years in the making. There was no way she’d let a hulking monster with a camera scare her away from her calling.

Still, as she stared through the glass at the lobby floor where she’d clawed desperately for freedom last night, her stomach tightened. It had seemed like a million miles across that floor at the time, but it was more like two feet in reality. It was amazing how fear could wreak havoc on perception.

“Doc?” Dutch’s deep Southern drawl drew her out of the vision of angry eyes and a menacing figure.

The keys jingled like bells as she pulled them from her pocket. “It’s nothing.” It took all of her strength to keep her hand from trembling as she unlocked the door. Once they were inside, half the battle was over. She’d done it. Crossed the threshold and not lost her senses doing it. Still, nothing could stop her from staring back through the window at the trees.

“Well, now.” Dutch glanced around the exposed lobby, pulling on his earlobe. “Looks like you don’t—” He stopped, eyes focused on the floor, head tipped to one side.

“What’s the matter?” Andrea followed his gaze and instantly landed on what had caught his attention.

“What is that?” Dutch knelt and studied the rust-colored smudges near the door. “Is that blood?” His head came up, jaw set. “Did somebody hurt you?” He stood and squared off as though prepared to protect her from giant robots.

“I’m fine.” She forced nonchalance into her voice. “If you want to know the truth, I drew that blood.”

Dutch took a step back. “What did you do? I’m not ’bout to be in here mopping up evidence, am I?”

Laughter bubbled up at the suspicion in his stance. “I didn’t kill one of my patients, if that’s what you’re thinking. And the police have come and gone, so you can do whatever you’d like.”

“Well, if it’s not your blood, then whose is it?” He didn’t quite believe her.

“I wish I knew. A man came in here and tried to take one of my files.” And me, if he could. She dared not say that aloud. She might find herself with a homeless man as a permanent bodyguard. “I kicked him in the face and he left.”

“One of your patient files? Which one?”

“You know I can’t tell you who my clients are.”

For a moment, it seemed he was going to ask again, then he changed course. “You kicked a man in the teeth? Was he a big guy?”

“Huge.”

“Always knew you had scrap in you, Doc.” Dutch chuckled and headed for the supply room, shaking his head. “You can take care of yourself, can’t you?”

Yes, she could. But that was something she didn’t want to have to prove again soon.

The door opened, scraping adrenaline against her raw nerves. That had to stop, or she’d fall to pieces.

A short, balding man stepped in, his purple uniform polo tucked into too-tight khaki pants. “Miss Andrea.” He extended a disposable cup of coffee to her.

She took the cup and smiled, the warmth of fresh-brewed coffee seeping into her fingers, up her arm and into her soul. Every morning, Mr. Miller stepped in right behind her with a cup of coffee and a dose of cheer. Just when she thought she was alone in this, God reminded her she had people looking out for her. “Mr. Miller. Always faithful with the coffee.”

“Always.” His grin nearly split his round face in two before it faded and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his gas station next door. “My evening shift guy says he saw the police over here last night. You okay?”

“She kicked a man in the teeth,” Dutch called from the supply room.

Mr. Miller took a step back and nearly fell out the door as it opened again.

Josh slipped in behind the smaller man, nodding at her as he did.

This time, when her fingers tingled, it had nothing to do with fear. That needed to stop, too.

Glancing at Josh, Mr. Miller recovered his footing and stepped sideways from the man who was his physical opposite. Then he looked back at Andrea. “You kicked a man in the teeth?”

Josh chuckled, but that only made Mr. Miller glance back and forth between the two of them.

Dutch reappeared and started when he saw Josh. “Who are you?” The way he gripped the broom handle, it looked like he might just charge.

Andrea held up her hands, hoping to head off any misplaced protection. “Okay, everybody. I’m not used to three handsome men in my lobby at once.” Especially one in particular.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Josh winked at her.

Please, Lord, now is not the time to blush. She cleared her throat, made introductions then took charge of her small band of defenders. “Mr. Miller, I’m okay. Someone tried to rob me, but it’s fine now. The police are looking into it. Hopefully, it was an isolated incident.” Hopefully. But she doubted it. So did Josh, based on the set of his jaw.

Mr. Miller studied her as Dutch went back to sweeping in the corner. “Maybe I should aim a few of my security cameras your way. Make sure there’s always eyes on the place.” He nodded. “I’ll have all of my shifts keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.” He laid a hand on her arm, which made Josh straighten slightly. Like he should be jealous of someone old enough to be her father. “I want to. Having you next door is so much nicer than having that check-cashing place here gouging soldiers.” He patted her arm, aimed a slight smile at Josh, then stepped for the door. “I should go. It’s payroll day.” He nodded at Dutch. “You coming to my place next?”

Dutch tossed a slight wave from where he leaned on his broom handle. “An hour or so?”

With an answering wave, Mr. Miller tripped on the threshold as he stepped out. “See you on Monday, Ms. Andrea.”

Josh arched an eyebrow.

Yes, Mr. Miller was awkward, but nobody treated her better. Except maybe Dutch. Her forehead wrinkled. She certainly had eclectic neighbors. “What brings you by so early?” she asked Josh. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Command gave us a four-day weekend now because we were doing an extended training exercise over the Fourth of July holiday.”

“Convenient.” Andrea let herself meet his eyes and wished she hadn’t. Something about him blurred the straight edges of her life until she wasn’t quite sure if she was fifteen or thirty-two.

“Still don’t know who you are.” Dutch’s broom ceased its swishing as he drew closer.

Josh extended his hand. “Josh Walker.”

“Dutch.”

The men sized each other up as they shook, seemed to come to some agreement and parted.

Dutch drifted back to the closet and reappeared seconds later, sans broom. “Think I’ll go see what Mr. Miller needs. You two look like you need to talk.” Without further explanation, he slipped out the door.

“What was that?” Andrea asked as she led Josh into her office and watched as he took in the room.

“What?”

“That. Between you and Dutch.”

“Guy conversation.”

“So you’re friends now?”

“For life.” Josh grinned and leaned against her desk, his smile fading. “How long have you known him?”

Andrea sucked her upper lip between her teeth and studied the popcorn ceiling. Odd time to think of it, but she should have removed that before she moved in. “A couple of months. He does odd jobs for several businesses on Victory. For Mr. Miller, too.”

“And how long have you known Miller?”

“Since I moved in. Six months or so.” She tipped her coffee cup toward Josh. “Every day, like clockwork, he brings me coffee from his gas station next door. Why?” But even as she said it, she knew. “You suspect them?”

“I think everybody’s up to something right now. Don’t you?”

She hadn’t thought about it. “No. And especially not them.” Rounding her desk, she dropped into her chair and waited for him to sit in one across from her. “Have you stopped to think you’re the most likely suspect?” She unlocked the desk drawer and grabbed Wade’s file, slipping it onto the desk like it was explosive. And who knew? It might be.

“I have.” He nodded toward the folder. “You left that here last night? Unguarded?”

“Safest place for it. The police were here and, for all anyone knew, they were watching.” She flipped open the folder and stared down at the first page. It was easier than looking at Josh.

“You took the pictures to the police?”

She nodded, flipping through the folder to find Wade’s release of information form. Last night she’d realized that talking to the person he trusted the most—the one to whom he’d given permission to access his patient information—might yield a clue. It was a sheet she rarely glanced at, because it only supplied clerical details.

Her finger stilled when she located the form, then tapped the name penned there in Wade’s precise handwriting. What exactly was going on here?

* * *

“What is it?”

Andrea’s face paled and her eyebrows drew together so tightly they had to make her forehead ache.

Closing the file, she tapped the corner against her desk blotter. “You brought Wade here because he wanted help. But you also said Wade told you to come here if anything ever happened to him. Don’t you find that odd?”

“Guys coming and going from deployment say a lot of things like that.”

She shook her head, then held the folder out to him.

It was a fight to keep his face neutral as he grasped the thick packet, careful not to get his fingers anywhere near hers. The last thing he needed was to touch her and set crazy thoughts to racing again.

The manila folder lay heavy in his hands, the name Cameron, Wade typed neatly on a tab above what he assumed was a reference number. “Why give this to me?”

“Open it.”

“I can’t look at this, and you know it.” Heat flushed Josh’s face. He wasn’t a therapist or a lawyer, but everyone knew about confidentiality between a counselor and a patient. The idea that Andrea would breach that for any reason plummeted his respect for her about seven pegs, and with that drop came a sense of disappointment deeper than any he should feel. He stood and dropped the folder on her desk, ignoring her confusion. “You could have your license yanked for violating confidentiality.” Which presented a whole other dilemma for him. Did he tell someone? Or did he protect her?

“Sit down, Josh.” Her tone held authority and maybe even anger. “I should hope you’d know me better than that.” With a flick of her wrist, she flipped open the file, paged through, and jammed her finger onto a printed sheet. “Wade cleared you as the only other person who could put eyes on his file.”

Everything froze. Even the small clock on a low cherry bookshelf seemed to tick slower. “Why would Cameron choose me? I’m nobody to the kid, other than his first sergeant. There’s every reason not to want his chain of command to be given access to his records. In certain instances, what’s in here could wreck his career. It doesn’t make sense.” Josh sank into the chair and slid the file closer, scanning the release of records form and noting the slash through a previous name and his name etched in its place with precise print. “You’re sure he did this?”

“I’m no handwriting analyst, but he’s the one who filled out all of the other paperwork, and the handwriting all seems to be the same.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t tell you. He never once mentioned you in any of his sessions. I’d have remembered hearing your name if he had.”

She’d have recognized his name, just like he’d have known hers anywhere. Did that mean she’d given him more than a passing thought over the years? Josh shook his head. That would be way too much to hope.

Andrea blushed a deep red and straightened a few pens on her desk into a neat row before she cleared her throat. “I never give the administrative pages more than a cursory glance, because that’s more up Grace’s alley. My receptionist. It’s the stuff she enters into the computer, and unless there’s a reason, I prefer not to go digging there. It can color my judgments, make me jump to conclusions.”

“So you just now noticed?”

She looked startled at the straightforward question, like it wasn’t the direction she’d expected him to go. “This is the first time I’ve opened the file in a couple of months. For some reason, he gave you permission to look into it. That makes you the only other eyes I have, because unless he’s threatened to hurt himself or someone else or the authorities bring me a court order, nobody else can see it.” She tapped a finger on the edge of her desk. “It’s just me and you on this.”

The folder nearly slipped from his fingers. It almost sounded as if the words meant more than they sounded like on the surface.

Great. Now his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t get lost in the subtext of every word she said—not if he had any chance of protecting her. He hoped there wouldn’t be more danger, but something in his gut wouldn’t quiet down. It was a sixth sense developed over four tours overseas, and it had never done him wrong before.

What he needed was distance, to get out of her presence, to put his head on straight before he did something stupid like lean across that desk and kiss her.

Because that wouldn’t help matters at all.

“I’m guessing I can’t take this home with me.” Josh tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

“’Fraid not. I’m not so all-fire sure this is about anything in there, not after getting those pictures, but our visitor last night was a little too hot to get his hands on that file, which makes it the only hope I have of finding out what’s going on here. It’s not leaving my sight.”

“You’re planning to keep it with you?” His fight response marched double-time. Didn’t she know how stupid that was? “All it takes is someone to track you down—”

“And what? If anybody wants it that badly, they’ll break in here first. Since they didn’t try last night, it adds credence to my doubts about what they’re really after.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the burgundy leather chair. “Like I already said, that file’s a cover for something else. Something to do with me.” Her voice wavered on that last sentence. Andrea might be all bravado up front, but the memory of what had happened—and probably of what could happen—frightened her. It was clear she didn’t want him to know that, though.

“Let me keep it.” Josh gripped the folder so tightly the cardstock popped in protest. “They’ll never suspect—”

Andrea rocketed out of her chair like she intended to come across the desk and snatch the file from his hands. “You’re not listening to me. Is this the typical ‘hero’ tactic? Do you play movies in your head while women speak so you don’t have to hear what we say? It’s clear from those pictures they will come after me regardless. You putting yourself in the middle of this any more than you already are only puts you in danger, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” There was no way Andrea would ever understand what drove him. And he sure wasn’t about to tell her now. She’d break even the tenuous tie that bound them and never speak to him again.

“I don’t doubt that. But I also don’t intend to let you get caught in the crossfire.”

He gripped the file and stood, looking down at her, his throat tight with emotions he couldn’t define, though exasperation was probably highest on the list. “Too late.” Without looking back, he stalked to the door and vanished into the lobby.

* * *

Andrea glanced at her cell phone and winced. Nearly lunchtime. With Grace on vacation, she’d made the calls to her Friday appointments and canceled them last night, unsure if anyone would even be allowed in the building today. With no sessions, the day dragged on without mercy. It had been a vain hope that patient-free time would let her catch up on paperwork, but yesterday’s stress had scattered her thinking and twisted her mind to such an extent that even the smallest task took an eternity to complete.

It didn’t help that Josh had stormed out of her office over two hours ago, carried by emotions she couldn’t begin to puzzle out.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly stormed out, but the rigid line of his spine and the complete silence of his exit spoke more than shouts ever would. As much as she’d replayed their conversation, she couldn’t figure out exactly what would cause that kind of reaction. Yes, she’d been stubborn, but that didn’t warrant his response.

She knew the only reason he was still in the lobby was because he’d never leave with that file, no matter how hot his anger simmered. He might disagree with her, but something told her he had the same integrity as always. She’d expected him to duck back in with something. A comment on Wade’s file, an apology for his strange behavior, a question about lunch... But nothing. Two hours and nothing.

Analyzing that man was half of the reason her paperwork had dragged on so long. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the pull of his presence just a few feet away, on the other side of a door that might as well be made of lead.

A familiar low hum pulsed into the room. It took a moment for Andrea to place the sound, and when it processed, she whirled as a sheet slipped into the wireless printer. The wheels on her chair squeaked as she rolled backward. Josh couldn’t have logged into Grace’s computer without a password, so who was printing on her machine?

Slowly, an image formed. Andrea and Dutch, standing by her car. This morning. The photo was taken this time through a car windshield from one of the parking lots to the west of the center.

Again, red words were scrawled across the photo. We’re still watching.

She drew in a sharp breath and willed her fingers not to shake as she pulled the paper from the machine.

Andrea shoved her chair back and stood, every cell focused on that photo. “Josh?”

No answer.

Spider steps of fear ran up her arms. Not knowing what was happening on the other side of the door made her body tense. She swallowed hard and shook off the irrational thought that someone had slipped in and murdered Josh while she worked only feet away. Things like that didn’t happen outside of horror movies. Or war zones. Even though her life felt like both right now, that couldn’t possibly happen. “Josh? They sent another picture.” That should get his attention.

Still nothing. No rustle of movement. No answering call. It was as still as if she were alone in the world.

Something was definitely wrong. Andrea edged toward the door and gathered her last ounce of courage, ignoring the pounding of her heart as it throbbed in her ears. As softly as possible, she eased the door open, keeping out of sight from the windows in the lobby, trying to catch a glimpse of Josh.

The midday sun, nearly straight overhead, bounced off the windshield of her car in the parking lot, reflecting on the glass in the lobby and casting shadows that wavered in the heat. Josh sat at Grace’s desk with his arms crossed, just out of reach of the brightest streaks, his forehead resting on his palms, seemingly absorbed in the file in front of him. From this angle, though, she could see that his eyes weren’t on the pages but focused on the front windows.

Josh glanced to the side when she appeared in the doorway. “Stay there,” he hissed.

Andrea blinked against the adrenaline that shot through her from her scalp to her toes. “What’s wrong?”

“Hopefully nothing.” Josh shifted, raised his head and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. He ran his hand down his face to block his mouth. “Truck pulled up in the parking lot about three minutes ago.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to tip them off that I—” His entire body tensed, his fingers tightening on his face. “Go in your office. Lock the door. Now.”

“But—”

“Someone’s coming. Now!”

The whispered shout galvanized her. Without waiting to see what came next, Andrea slammed the door and pushed the lock, then looked around the room and lunged for the phone on her desk.

There were no windows to see what was happening. No portal through which to escape. Her adrenaline-numbed fingers fumbled the handset of her desk phone.

No way out. She had no way out.

And she’d left Josh at the mercy of a potential killer.

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