Can two officers of the law outrun danger...and love?

A Silver Valley P.D. Romance

When police psychologist Annie Fiero stumbles across a case of abuse in her hometown, she takes the assignment. In the process, she is reunited with her childhood friend Josh Avery, who is all grown up and a lethally handsome detective. But as Josh and Annie hunt down a vicious criminal, they must also resist deadly desire...

Former naval intelligence officer and US Naval Academy graduate GERI KROTOW draws inspiration from the global situations she’s experienced. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can email her via her website and blog, gerikrotow.com.

Also by Geri Krotow

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The Billionaire’s Colton Threat

What Family Means

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Navy Rules

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Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Reunion Under Fire

Geri Krotow

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07921-1

REUNION UNDER FIRE

© 2018 Geri Krotow

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Ellen—you are the strongest woman I know. I couldn’t be more proud.

Special thanks to: Amy Whitworth for insight on volunteer matters; Dick Hammon for key pointers about police procedure; and to Alex Otteson and Family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Annie Fiero’s vision blurred as she tried to make sense of her grandmother Ezzie’s bookkeeping. She stretched in the comfy leather swivel chair and took a long sip of her tea. Annie didn’t use spreadsheets in her job at the New York Police Department, but back in her hometown of Silver Valley, Pennsylvania, she was struggling. She was a police psychologist, not an accountant or small-business owner. Except, for the next three months, she was the manager of Silver Threads Yarn Shop. Since Grandma Ezzie had a minor stroke and had flown to Florida to be nurtured by Annie’s parents, Annie’s sabbatical had appeared as the perfect solution to Annie’s mom. Annie had never been able to say no to her mother.

Annie looked around the historical room and couldn’t stop a grin. Grandma Ezzie’s yarn shop sat in what had once been the library of a grand Victorian home. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were positioned against the circular wall, the original sliding ladder intact. Afraid of destroying the antique wood, they used modern stepladders now for insurance purposes. Hanks of hand-dyed wool hung over the rungs, drawing the customer’s eyes to the vast inventory. Instead of leather-bound books, the library shelves were chock-full of yarn. A rainbow of colors in various fibers surrounded Annie as she sat behind the service counter. It was a far cry from the noisy din of the NYPD offices and the trauma that had made her decision to return to Silver Valley an easy one.

“I’m so glad you’ve come home, finally! Your grandmother must be ecstatic.” Ginny Vanderbruck, Grandma Ezzie’s lifelong friend and one of the shop’s most frequent flyers, glowed with small-town wonder. As if their town cornered the market on a happy life.

Annie looked up from the shop’s business records to watch Ginny place three hanks of the expensive cashmere blend on the counter.

“My grandmother’s happy I’m here to help, but it’s only temporary.” Annie didn’t want anyone to think she’d stay away from New York City longer than she had to. She might be a Silver Valley native, but she was a city person through and through, happily so. Except she hadn’t been feeling the love for city living lately, had she? And since Rick’s death, along with his wife’s, she’d been flat-out miserable.

An immediate cascade of horrible memories associated with the reason she was on sabbatical assaulted her. She gripped the service counter and fought the urge to run from the shop. Run, run, run. But it wouldn’t bring her former client—one of her best friends and oldest work colleagues—back to life. Wouldn’t erase the fact that she’d failed at what NYPD had trusted her to do: keep officers safe.

“Annie, are you okay?” Ginny’s face creased with concern and reminded Annie why she’d been eager to take a longer break than normal from her job. She needed to be in a familiar place.

“I’m good, thanks. I guess I’m getting used to the idea of being back in Silver Valley for the next three months, is all.”

Ginny waved a hand at her. “You made the right decision to come back and help out your grandmother. You know all of her customers are grateful you’ve kept the best yarn shop in the state open for us.” Ginny’s smile turned contemplative. “You do know that your old flame is still single, don’t you?”

And just like that, Annie remembered why she’d stayed in the city. She ignored the pang that poked her heart at Ginny’s assumption that she was single by proxy and not choice. “Ms. Vanderbruck, high school was a long time ago for me.”

“You’re still so young, dear. Do you have someone special in New York, though, is that it?” The way Ginny said “someone” made Annie wonder if the woman thought a passport was needed to travel to Manhattan.

“Oh, no. I’m enjoying my single life.” Liar. Big-time liar. “Looks like you’re having some luck finding the fiber you wanted. What have you decided on for your cardigan pattern?” Ginny had shown Annie a quite contemporary photo from a recent knitting magazine when she’d entered the shop. A tiny tug of excitement surprised Annie. She hadn’t picked up knitting needles since she’d worked for Grandma Ezzie during college summers. When she’d avoided the high school “flame” Ginny pointedly mentioned.

“Do you like this shade?” Ginny brought her back from the edge of another awful flashback. Annie eyed the pile of purple fiber, trying not to mentally add the sale before it was a done deal. She was here to help, to keep things moving, not to beat any sales records.

“I do. It’s lovely next to your skin.”

“I really shouldn’t spend the money this month.”

“Grandma Ezzie always preaches that if you’re going to hold yarn in your hands for an entire project, make it the best you can afford.”

“You’re right, of course. I’ll take it. And I may be back to get enough for a second one if I like this pattern.” Ginny pulled out her credit card.

“You’ve picked the exact same shade as your hair.” Annie began to ring up the order, wondering for the millionth time how her mother had convinced her to use her sabbatical from NYPD in sleepy Silver Valley, no less: the hometown she’d fled and vowed to never return to, save for family visits, over twelve years ago.

It’s for Grandma Ezzie.

“Isn’t it fab?” Ginny ran her fingers through her short violet hair, the ends tipped with fuchsia. “Who says my teenage granddaughters should have all the fun?”

“Not I.” Annie began to wind the hanks on the swift that stood next to the counter, quickly producing neat cakes of yarn. “I need to thank you for agreeing to run the knit and chat tonight. I’ll be here, but this way you’re giving me the freedom to ring up orders. I really don’t have a handle on everything yet.” As evidenced by her hot-and-cold emotions over her return to her hometown.

“No problem! And give me a break—like you said, you’re a city girl now. There’s nothing you can’t handle.” Ginny’s sincerity slayed her.

“I’m hardly equipped to run a business. Different brain cells than working at NYPD.” Annie’s grandmother had bragged to all of her customers about her one granddaughter’s “big city” job, so she wasn’t telling Ginny anything she didn’t already know.

“We’re all glad you agreed to help Ezzie because this shop is important to a lot of us in Silver Valley. It gives us a reason to get out of the house. Speaking of which, I’m going to run out to the grocery store to pick up a birthday cake for Lydia, with whipped cream frosting and strawberry filling. She’s seventy-five tomorrow.” Annie knew that Lydia was one of the dozen or so women who religiously attended knit and chat sessions.

Annie couldn’t help but notice the far cry running a yarn shop was from the life-and-death atmosphere of NYPD.

As they planned for the weekly Friday night gathering, a new customer came in. Petite, blonde and made up like a movie star, with perfect makeup, designer clothing that hung perfectly where her two-hundred-dollar jeans weren’t hugging her tiny frame. A large, leather designer bag that complemented the heeled sandals finished the woman’s ensemble. Annie couldn’t help but take notice of her. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other women in Silver Valley who dressed with high fashion in mind, but it wasn’t her outward appearance that pinged Annie’s internal radar. It was how she held herself as she slowly walked to the counter. The blonde’s eyes darted from Ginny to Annie and back again, her mannerisms a little jerky. Something had her wound tighter than a cheap skein of acrylic yarn.

Ginny caught her staring past her shoulder and turned around. “Oh, hi, Kit! Are you going to stay for knit and chat?”

The woman shook her head like a shy child. “No. Maybe. I thought about it. I don’t know. I should go home earlier than I did last week. I’m almost done with my shawl.”

Ginny waved her hand at her, much as she had done with Annie. “Oh, no, missy. You’re having fun, and that’s all there is to it.” Ginny turned back to Annie, her eyes wide. “Kit’s new to our group, and I told her we need fresh blood.”

“Where is Ezzie?” Kit spoke with a slight accent, which Annie would bet was Russian. Annie had studied it in college and worked with a lot of Russian-speaking cops. Kit’s pronunciation was distinctly Russian, maybe Ukrainian. The pale woman under the heavy makeup looked lost, as if she’d never been in the store before. Her obvious wariness combined with the way Ginny treated her flipped Annie’s internal alarm bells, and her training shifted into full alert.

“Hi, Kit. I’m Annie, Ezzie’s granddaughter. She’s had a mild stroke and is taking a break from the shop for a bit.” She stepped from around the counter and held out her hand.

Kit took it, but instead of the timid grip Annie expected, it was a strong, almost painful clench. As if Annie were her lifeline. Kit’s motions were more like those of a frail octogenarian instead of a young woman Annie estimated was in her twenties.

“I need to talk to your grandmother. I’m sorry she’s sick.” Kit’s eyes blazed. “Is she in the hospital? Will she come back soon?”

Annie looked into the woman’s stunning ice-blue gaze and saw fear, trepidation and concern for Ezzie. Something else, too. Anxiety that didn’t have a name, the result of living with a constant threat to your life. Annie had seen enough of it in victims and police officers. She knew how stress affected first responders over the years, and it was even worse for civilians. Kit displayed outward symptoms of a trauma survivor.

Keep her calm, show her she can trust you.

“Grandma Ezzie’s fine, really. My parents insisted she go to their place in Florida for a few months while she does some rehab and relaxes. Since my grandfather died, she hasn’t given herself a break from the business, and my parents knew she wouldn’t do an honest rehab if she stayed here.”

“I understand.” Kit said it as if she’d been betrayed. Annie made a mental note to ask her grandmother about Kit. Annie was certain there was more to the woman than knitting a shawl.

“Can I help you pick out some yarn today? A pattern?”

“You can trust her, Kit. Annie’s from New York City and...” Ginny trailed off at the “shut the heck up!” look Annie threw her. She instinctively didn’t want Kit to know she was in law enforcement. Not yet. She wanted this woman to trust her first.

“New York?” Kit’s brow wrinkled. While her eyes seemed wise and old, her skin was positively translucent. Looking at Kit’s hands, Annie thought her first assessment was correct and that Kit was quite young. Early twenties at the most.

“I grew up here, went to Silver Valley High, then left for college. How about you, Kit? Have you been in Silver Valley long?”

“Yes. Well, for the last five or six years I’ve lived here, anyway. Are you the granddaughter Ezzie said works for the police?”

Dang Grandma Ezzie and her bragging. “I am. But I’m not a cop. I’m support staff.”

“Oh.” Kit nodded, looking anywhere but at Annie. “This new yarn is beautiful!” She grabbed a hank of alpaca variegated and squeezed it, the universal sign of a rabid fiber freak. Annie smiled at the gesture, then froze as she noticed muted purple spots on Kit’s upper neck and jaw. Bruises covered with the carefully applied makeup she’d noticed earlier. Her stomach clenched, and she consciously forced herself to remain calm and not reveal what she’d seen. It’d be too easy to scare Kit away, and she’d never be able to help her. Annie couldn’t let another person who needed help get away.

It’s not all about what happened in New York with Rick. Although after losing her dear colleague to suicide, after he murdered his wife, would it ever not be about New York?

Letting out a slow breath, she leaned against the counter. “Yes, that’s a lovely blend, isn’t it? I have to say that my grandmother only picks the best for her customers. I happen to knit, too, and even if this wasn’t my grandmother’s shop, it’d still be my favorite shop in town. It’s better than any I’ve ever found in the city.” There were one or two yarn shops in New York City that she frequented, but none gave her the sense of being at home and safe as Grandma Ezzie’s.

Kit looked around. “Yes, I’d like to make a new shawl. Ezzie said some new alpaca linen blend was shipping in, too. Is it here?”

“Absolutely. It’s been our best seller this week.” Annie led her to the antique washstand that had the new hanks splayed out in a rainbow of colors. “With the heat, everyone wants to knit lace.”

Kit ran her fingertips lightly over the fiber, then picked up a hank and clasped it before rubbing it between her fingers. Annie realized that she missed being around other knitters like this. Even though she hadn’t pursued Ezzie’s passion for fiber as a career, she still relied on knitting to keep her grounded at the end of long, hard days working at NYPD. Days she cherished, but needed space from, for the time being. Work she’d taken a three-month sabbatical from in order to help Grandma Ezzie. And to escape the media surrounding the murder-suicide of one of NYPD’s finest, an officer who’d come to the end of his coping skills while dealing with his opioid addiction. Rick had been Annie’s friend and client, and she’d failed to save him or the young wife he’d taken along with him. She wondered if the raw wound in her heart would ever heal.

“You are a good granddaughter to come here and help Ezzie out.” Kit wore a frown, but Annie knew the sad look was for Ezzie’s predicament, and saw the warmth in Kit’s eyes that conveyed her admiration for Annie’s choice. Annie wanted to ask, to know, where and how exactly this young woman had come to the States but again, the fear of scaring Kit off stopped her.

“Are you staying in her apartment upstairs?” Kit’s question seemed casual, but Annie knew better. This might be the olive branch that Kit sought.

“Yes. It’s the easiest solution as it keeps the place occupied, and I’m used to a smaller place in New York, so it’s like a real vacation for me.” Minus the emotional baggage.

“I’ll take three of these.” Kit picked out three tonal shades of blue. Annie thought the hue matched Kit’s countenance. The woman was struggling with despair, if her training was putting the cues together correctly. But something else about Kit seemed to be triggering a memory in Annie.

Why else was Kit sending alarm bells through her?

Kit held a sky-colored hank to her cheek, sighing dreamily. And leaned a little over to the left, exposing a sliver of her neck above the mock turtleneck she wore. On a blistering summer day the top was out of place, but not for a woman like Kit. All at once Annie knew why Kit had set her police psychologist sirens wailing, beyond the bruises. She reminded her of a witness the DA had asked her to vet. Another woman with a Russian accent whose husband had a penchant for harming her. Her testimony had helped put the abuser behind bars.

Annie made out another mark, this one a definite deep reddish-purple bruise that peeked above Kit’s collar. It looked as if it had a fuzzy filter over it, and the beige-toned stain on the turtleneck’s fabric confirmed it was concealer. If Kit were a teenager, it’d be easy to think the mark was a hickey. But combined with the other bruises, how Kit was dressed, her skittish behavior and the fact that she had wanted to talk to Ezzie, Annie knew that she was dealing with an abused woman. Ezzie was known for helping women out of tight spots and had in fact made it her life’s purpose since she’d fled her first husband after being battered by him in a drunken rage. Ezzie had been lucky—she’d met Annie’s grandfather after that and enjoyed a long, happy marriage. But Ezzie never forgot her ordeal.

“So you and my grandmother are friends?” She kept her demeanor purposefully chipper, casual. Annie made a show of reaching into the drawer of the antique table and pulling out skeins to replace the yarn Kit was purchasing, displaying them in perfect symmetry.

“Yes. She is my friend.” Quietly, with certainty.

“I’ll see you ladies later. Don’t you dare miss tonight, Kit!” Ginny gave them a wave as she gathered up her bags and walked out of the shop, the large front door opening and closing with the familiar sound of the squeaky wood that surrounded the stained-glass window.

“That doorjamb needs to be trimmed. It’s swelled every summer since I can remember.” Annie looked at Kit, who’d taken her skeins to the counter and still looked like a rabbit ready to bolt into the nearest bush.

“I love the old feel of this place.” Kit’s words were softly spoken, wishful.

“You strike me as the contemporary type. Your sense of style is beautiful.” Annie referenced Kit’s chic urban style, from her sleeveless silky turtleneck, long linen cardigan and flared crops. Her stacked sandals revealed perfectly manicured toes, and her designer bag cost more than Annie’s New York City rent.

“Thank you. I do like modern things, but there’s nothing like the comfort of the familiar.” Kit gazed at the balustrade that followed the stairs behind the counter up to a peekaboo corridor above the built-in bookcases that led to Ezzie’s apartment.

“You know, Kit, if you ever need anything, you can stop in, or call me. I’m not my grandmother, and you don’t know me yet, but you can trust me.” Annie rang up Kit’s order and added her personal cell phone number to the back of the shop’s frequent-buyer card that she handed to the woman. It was far less incriminating than if she gave Kit her NYPD business card and her abuser found it. “My number’s on the back. You’re one skein away from a free one.”

“I don’t keep these cards.” Kit frowned at the punch card. Silver Valley was like any other American town in that the local business owners did everything financially possible to reward repeat customers. Annie wasn’t surprised that Kit didn’t save them. Abused women learned to leave no trace of where they’d been, what they’d done. It made fewer waves at home from a prying husband who wanted to control their every move.

“Oh, well, I didn’t know. I’m still getting to know all of the regular customers.” Ezzie would have known, and she’d know why Kit didn’t keep the cards. It was probably because she didn’t want her husband to know where she shopped, in case he went through her wallet. Annie had heard every breach of personal boundaries in her career with NYPD.

“No, you didn’t. But I feel you do. Know.” Kit’s eyes dropped all previous defenses, and for a long moment she stood at the counter, emotionally naked to Annie, who saw fear, trepidation and an unexpected emotion. Determination. Kit was going to fight whoever was hurting her.

Annie handed Kit her bag of yarn. “I’m here.”

Kit’s hands shook as she took the bag. Without another word she turned and walked out of the shop.

Annie might not have expected to bring her law-enforcement therapy skills to bear this soon into her stint at Silver Threads Yarn Shop, but having a sense of purpose related to something she knew allowed a sliver of light to slant through the veil of doom she’d carried here from New York.

* * *

Joshua Avery walked through the Silver Valley Police Department, trying to remember that for the time being he was Officer Avery again and not Detective Avery. He’d asked for a temporary demotion so that he could be around more for his younger sister.

The building was unusually quiet, especially for a Friday morning. Everyone was either off, out on patrol or attending a law-enforcement conference in the next town over. He had to admit he was a little disappointed no one was around to see him back in his working blues. As a detective he hadn’t worn his Silver Valley PD uniform in more than a year, and he was grateful it still fit. He’d gotten used to his civilian clothes while he served as an SVPD detective, but had to admit that being back in uniform felt good.

“Morning, Josh.” SVPD Chief Colt Todd motioned to him to enter his office. “Don’t get too comfortable in that uniform, Josh. As soon as you get your sister settled, I’ll need you back as a full-time detective.” Tall with graying hair, Colt still looked like a man in his prime, fitness-wise.

“Yes, sir.” Josh, along with the rest of SVPD, would follow their leader through fire because of exactly this—Colt’s ability to be compassionate while still letting an employee know he thought the person was the only one for the job. Without hesitation, he’d given Josh a reprieve from the near-24/7 routine of detective work. Josh’s younger sister, a disabled adult, needed to be placed in a full-time care community, and Josh needed time to pick the right place for Becky. But Josh couldn’t afford extended leave, so going back in uniform was a good compromise for both him and SVPD.

“As for this weekend, I’ll need you to man the fort while most of the department is in Carlisle for the ROC strategy session.” Colt referred to the Russian Organized Crime deterrent conference, run this weekend at the county seat.

Josh nodded and listened as Colt ran down the issues he wanted him to keep his finger on. Since ROC had come to Silver Valley, the entire department had been putting in extra hours, scouring the community for any evidence that the criminals had sent yet another group of trafficked underage girls to the area. ROC had initiated a shipment to Silver Valley a couple of months ago, and SVPD had played a role in saving the girls, freeing them from the degrading work, legal and illegal, they’d been enslaved to before they ever touched American soil. Like the flow of ROC heroin into the area, the sex trafficking trade was relentless.

“You’re also going to be the top guy here while I’m at the conference all weekend. I’ll be back on Monday morning to check in, and of course call me with anything you need to.”

“Copy that, Chief.” He hoped the station would stay quiet so that he could go home for dinner with Becky. And to continue his search for an apartment for her, as much as he didn’t want to think about it.

“Look, Josh, I know you’d rather be in the thick of the ROC problem with everyone else right now. And I’d love to have you there. It hurts like hell to lose you as a detective, even if it’s only for a few weeks or so. I’m sorry about the setback with your sister. You’ll be working as a detective again soon.” Colt looked at him. “It’ll be no longer than a few weeks, right?”

“I hope not, Chief. The more regular hours on patrols and at the desk are better for Becky and me as we adjust to our new reality. It’s coming together. We were spoiled when she went to school every day, and then all the day camps she was eligible for in the summer. Since she graduated from high school, her requirements have changed. I’m close to finding her a more permanent living arrangement.” It killed him to say it, but he forced the words through his teeth. Becky didn’t need him as much anymore, didn’t want him as much. It was time to let her become as independent as any mentally challenged young woman could. She’d drawn a sucky hand with being deprived oxygen at birth, giving her lifelong mental difficulties that were umbrellaed under the description of Pervasive Developmental Disorder, PDD. They included developmental delays, attention deficit disorder and anxiety. To make matters worse, she’d been dealt another horrible hand when their parents had been killed in a car crash a decade ago. But she’d made the best of it and was happy, as happy as a nine-year-old in a nineteen-year-old body could be. Josh couldn’t ask for more. Except for a promise that nothing bad would ever happen to her, which he knew was impossible.

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, Josh. You’ve done a fine job of raising your sister, and your parents would be pleased.”

“Thanks, Chief.” Josh stood up. He didn’t like it when people complimented him on what he’d done. It was what any other brother would do, and he never felt worthy of the praise. He did his job—he took care of his sister. “Is there anything else?”

“No, Josh. Only the usual—let’s keep it rolling and do what we can to make Silver Valley the safest place possible.” Colt dismissed him in his usual easy yet professional manner.

“Yes, sir.” Josh thought that Silver Valley’s days of suburban serenity might be over, shattered by the opioid epidemic and now ROC’s entry into the area, but he kept those thoughts to himself. And he hoped against hope that he was wrong. If it were up to him, Silver Valley would again be the low-crime-rate town it’d been when he was a kid.

After a few hours of administrative work, Josh headed for the small break area. He sent up a silent thanks for the full pot of coffee on the heating plate, and he noted the plate of cookies someone had dropped off. There wasn’t enough coffee to keep him going today. Chief Todd wasn’t someone he’d want to whine to about how the paperwork for Becky’s needs had plowed him under these past months. He’d been up all night working out the finances for Becky to be able to leave home and live in her own apartment. It’d be possible in a community with other mentally challenged adults, and he was pretty sure he’d found the perfect one for her. She’d have supervision with autonomy. It was a fine line for his nineteen-year-old sister, who still asked about their parents, long dead. Becky knew they were gone and understood that part, but she didn’t understand why she had to still feel sad about it. Lifelong sorrow was too adult an emotion for Becky. Her pain crushed him.

Josh had been at the Jersey Shore on a spring break beach getaway when he’d received the phone call that had changed both of their lives forever in that split second. There were no adults named to take guardianship of Becky, so he stepped up to the plate. Instead of continuing the scholarship to Penn State, he’d transferred to a local private school for criminal justice, allowing him to take care of Becky once she was released from the hospital. She’d miraculously survived the accident that had taken their parents. Fortunately the college had given him a hardship scholarship, and their parents had left enough to help them survive. Becky received state and federal aid, too.

Becky had suffered developmental delays almost immediately and still had emotional difficulties from time to time, but her motor skills were intact. Becky functioned completely normally, for a nine-or ten-year-old girl, socially ahead of her mental capacity, which was closer to seven years of age. She’d never grow older, emotionally. Mentally, she grasped just about everything, but lacked the practical judgment to be able to live completely on her own. As he poured a large mug of the steaming coffee, he acknowledged that it was a blessing he’d found a local program. Upward Homes would handle her disabilities, emphasize her abilities, give her a job, friends to spend time with and a chance to enjoy whatever further education she was capable of. He sipped the coffee and told himself he didn’t need the cookies. The younger officers would appreciate them more, and they wouldn’t take an extra fifteen minutes to burn off in PT as they would for him.

He knew thirty wasn’t old, but he also knew his limits. The paperwork for Becky’s application was daunting, and his protective urges were hard to let go of. But if he ever wanted to freely work as a detective again, he needed to know Becky was taken care of round-the-clock. Worrying about her being on her own at home, no matter that he had a neighborhood friend to check in on her, was stressful. For both of them.

“Officer?” Cali, one of the SVPD’s receptionists, walked into the break room and stopped in front of him. How long had he been daydreaming about how to fix Becky’s problems?

“Hey, Cali. How’s the weekend looking for you? Because I’m going to be right here at my desk.”

She flashed a quick grin, nodded. “Been there. Hey, there’s a woman here who’s asked to talk to one of our detectives. Says she’s with NYPD and showed me a badge.”

“What about?” Cookie temptation evaporated.

“A possibility of domestic violence.”

He quickly added some French vanilla creamer to his coffee, one indulgence his six-foot-four-inch frame could still handle. He was painfully aware that at thirty, his fast metabolism days were quickly fleeing.

“Send her back to my desk.”

“Will do.”

He carried the navy ceramic mug with SVPD’s gold logo stamped on it. Before he sat down a tall, willowy redhead walked up to him. His body immediately recognized who his mind struggled to believe was standing before him. The woman he’d never expected to see again. The one who’d got away. The woman his eighteen-year-old self had thought was his one true love.

Annie Fiero.

Chapter 2

Josh thanked his stars he had the seat to catch him because the sight of Annie after all these years sent him reeling. As soon as his ass hit the leather padding he shot back up, ingrained respect having nothing to do with it.

Josh wanted to be on his feet for this reunion. “Annie.”

He took her in, from the crown of her head still framed by her flaming-red hair, her catlike eyes luminous in her beautiful face and her lips—hell, her lips. He licked his own as he allowed his gaze to meander farther south, seeing how her formfitting white T-shirt under her open ivory cardigan clung to her breasts. He wished the sweater was off and he could tell if her nipples were hard, if she felt what he did. Her curves were nonstop, evidenced by how she filled out her dark, tight jeans. Pink polished toes in sandals underscored her femininity. And his reaction to it.

Damnation. He needed to get Becky situated so that he could start dating properly again. Ever since he and Christina broke up, he’d been afraid to bring another woman home. It was too hard on Becky when they left.

“Josh?” The incredulity in Annie’s voice hit him in the solar plexus. Her tone, the soft quality of her speech, was the same. As were her startlingly blue eyes. “Josh.” It wasn’t a question as she said his name the second time. The pulse at the base of her throat danced under her smooth skin.

Apparently he’d caught her by surprise, too.

“Annie.” He took his time to look her over again. Since they’d once been best friends, she wouldn’t misconstrue it for unprofessional police behavior. And damn it if he didn’t check her left hand. Bare as his. Not that it meant anything, necessarily. It didn’t matter either way. He wasn’t available, and if Becky were already situated, Annie would be the last person he’d risk his ego with. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, flipped it lightly over her shoulder. A smile as she looked up at him. “Time marches on, right? You’ve grown at least a foot!”

He couldn’t help it, his chest puffed up at that. Not that he was immune to a woman’s admiration, but this was Annie. Her opinion had meant so much to him in high school. And still did, to his surprise. And maybe a little bit of alarm.

“Six inches is all. Had a spurt after we graduated.” He froze when he saw her eyes narrow. Oh hell... “Annie, we didn’t leave it on very good terms, did we?”

“If you call telling each other we were done, never wanted to ever see one another again...” She leaned against the edge of his desk, her long, lean lines seeming to underscore how very aware of her each inch of him was. Too aware. He maintained eye contact, hoping like hell she would, too. That she didn’t notice what she was doing to him, because if she looked at his crotch she’d know. He hadn’t had his uniform on for a day yet, and already he wanted to shove it off, show Annie just how much he’d changed. How the years had taught him how to be a man who could give her more than he’d been capable of on their bungled prom night. Her eyes studied him, too, and he forced himself to mentally detach from his reactions.

What the hell was going on with him? So what if Annie was hot? It wasn’t like he didn’t see attractive women all the time.

But none he had such a deep history with. “Yeah, we left it on crappy terms. I am sorry for anything I did that might have hurt you. We were kids, though, right?”

She sighed. “We were, but I’d like to think we shared more than the typical teen friendship.”

“I’m sure I was old enough to be more polite. I remember myself as a bit of a blockhead.” He indicated the chair next to his in the cubicle, and as she sat down so did he. “How are you doing, Annie? What are you doing? The last I heard you were in New York City.”

Her face, briefly open and almost vulnerable, snapped shut as tight as the security around Three Mile Island, the nuclear power facility only a thirty-minute drive away near Harrisburg. “I know you know I work for NYPD. Nothing escapes the Silver Valley grandmothers’ network.” She paused, an absentminded smile giving her face a soft glow. “I’m back here, though, for the time being. A few months. Running the local yarn shop for my grandmother.” She mentioned the name of the shop, one he recognized as being in the same building as a tourist adventure agency. “She recently had a minor stroke.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She okay?” Couldn’t he sound more intelligent, come up with more than trite conversation?

Annie nodded. “Yes, she’ll have a complete recovery. A longer rehabilitation was in order, though, so my parents packed her up and shipped her to Florida, to their home in Naples. Grandma Ezzie can get whatever she needs there, from privacy to a bottle of her favorite sparkling wine.”

“Sounds ideal. But your mother didn’t want to run the yarn shop?”

“No, she thought it best she stay down there and help along Grandma’s rehab. I couldn’t argue with her. Besides, Grandma Ezzie is her mother-in-law, so the yarn shop hasn’t ever been something my mother felt particularly attached to.”

“I remember you always loved to knit when we were kids.” He couldn’t stop the chuckle that burst out of his chest. “Remember that sweater you made me in school colors?”

She blushed, and it was as if his dick felt the heat on her skin, too. He vowed to never go this long without a date again if it would keep him from making a fool of himself in front of Annie.

“I meant for you to be the envy of all the other kids, but instead made you a laughingstock. I am so sorry, Josh. You really took one for the team there. Wasn’t the body of it too short, the arms waaay too long?”

“All I remember is how warm it was at the freezing football game.” An immediate visceral image of them taking each other’s clothes off, including the sweater, in the back seat of his parents’ station wagon assailed him. And sealed his fate for blue balls.

Annie might have felt the same, but he couldn’t tell as she immediately shut down, went back into the shell he’d noticed the rare times they’d seen one another on her trips back to Silver Valley. They’d never even spoken, at most waved across a crowded mall or nodded during a Christmas church service.

“The receptionist says you showed her your badge?” He needed to make a copy of it.

“Yes, here.” She opened a leather case and showed her NYPD credentials. They looked like a badge but were in effect identification cards for her assignment as a law-enforcement psychological expert.

“So you’re a shrink to the cops?” He fought against the incredulity that bubbled deep in his chest. Because if he let her see his surprise, he had the distinct impression that Annie would clock him. Or else turn and leave with no explanation. And he couldn’t handle that, not when he’d just got her back again.

Wait, where had that come from? He’d never really had her, had he? And he wasn’t looking to “get her back.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. ‘Shrink’ is inappropriate.”

“Yes, it is. But it doesn’t surprise me that you have that kind of attitude. A lot of officers are threatened by psychology.”

He snorted. He wasn’t threatened by anything except for the real-deal feelings toward Annie that were surfacing from parts unknown. From his heart. All at once he wanted to know if she felt the heat between them, if his erection was one-sided. As he watched her, she licked her lips and softly chewed on her full, pink glossed lower lip. Yeah, he was pretty darn sure she felt it, too. Like if they didn’t crawl into bed this instant he’d spontaneously combust in the Silver Valley PD office.

How had he forgotten, shoved the memory of her to the far recesses of his mind? How had he sloughed it all off, thinking that what he’d had with her as a teen was just that, an adolescent crush? Because the fact remained that they were twelve years older, full adults, and yet Annie Fiero was the only woman he’d ever known who could make him feel like this.

* * *

Annie watched Josh’s attention shift from being totally on her to someplace over her shoulder. As much as his intense scrutiny had been flattering, it was also a relief to be able to breathe. This man was the same Josh she’d known, had the same smile, but he was far more potent. Heart-lethal, because she was already imagining what it’d be like to kiss him, and she didn’t even know if he was available. The brief thought of him involved with someone else made her inexplicably sad. Crap.

“Josh? You okay?”

His eyes were sexier than she’d remembered, shrewder, but had glazed over a bit. As if he didn’t believe her professional choice, didn’t accept the damn proof in front of him in the form of her IDs. Was it that crazy to think she’d become a police psychologist? And since when did she get so aroused by talking to a guy? Her hormones had been conducting rapid-fire drills since the instant she’d seen him across the office bay. Since before she realized it was the same Josh Avery who hadn’t been able to get the condom on after prom, giving her time to back out of their plan to lose their virginity with one another and thus ending their planned night of passion. An awkward end to an otherwise emotionally intimate relationship. He’d been the first boy she’d ever loved.

Maybe the only man, but he’d been so young. Not like he was now, all sexy muscle and deep voice conversation meant to make a woman drip with want.

“I’m great, Annie. Just thinking. You look a little peaked, though, if you ask me.” Wham. Without warning he turned the tables back on her. This was a new skill of Josh’s, because the teen she’d known was too sweet, too kind to play mind games. She shook her head.

“I’m fine. I came in here—”

“On a suspected domestic violence. Who’s hurt you?” His last word ended on what sounded like a feral growl.

“Not me. A woman who came into my grandmother’s shop.” She forced herself to calm down and stick to her purpose. “I know what signs to look for.” She didn’t have to remind him it was her job, did she?

“She told you she’s being abused?”

She recognized the practiced neutral expression, knew it intimately. He was used to people throwing accusations around, claims that if true could be lifesaving. If false, they could ruin a person’s reputation and potentially waste police time and, worse, risk an officer’s life.

“Of course she didn’t. If she’d be willing to tell me, she’d be willing to come to the police, right?” She leaned back in the chair and shoved off her thin, summer-weight sweater. It’d kept the chill of the AC off her shoulders but no air-conditioning unit could keep up with the heat wave. She rubbed her shoulders, trying to undo the myriad knots that had sprung up at the top of her back. “I do this for a living, Josh. I know you have no reason to believe me, other than you knew me a long time ago, which is why I’ve brought these.” She took out her credentials for the second time in ten minutes and handed them to him. “Feel free to call it in and talk to my boss. I’m the real deal. I see this all the time. And I saw finger marks on her throat. She’d covered them with makeup and was wearing a turtleneck. It’s ninety degrees out, Josh. No one wears heavy clothes in this heat unless they have a reason. I only got a glimpse of the bruises because of the way she leaned over. But I also saw some higher, on her jaw. Probably older ones.”

“You’re sure?” His direct look was focused, his demeanor professional. Unlike her reaction to his nearness, which was chaotic as heat rushed to her face and her nipples tightened under her lightweight T-shirt. If his gaze moved lower, he’d see her physical reaction to him, and it wasn’t from the air-conditioning.

“I’m sure.” She paused, not wanting to tell him how to do his job but needing to know Kit would get the help she needed.

“I hear you.” He nodded. “But she’s not reporting it. So even if you have her name—”

“Kit Valensky.”

“I need more information. I prefer to talk to her directly if at all possible and—wait, what did you say her name was? Valensky?”

“That’s right. You know her?”

“Not personally.” His mouth was a straight line; his fingers drummed his desktop.

“But?” She’d wait him out. He knew something he didn’t want to tell her. Or maybe couldn’t, if it was a confidential police case. She was privy to whatever she needed to do her job in New York, but Silver Valley wasn’t the jurisdiction she was assigned. Josh didn’t have to tell her anything.

“But.” He blew out a breath and looked up from his desk, his eyes back on her. “She may be related to another Valensky in town. One we keep an eye on but never seem to have enough on, if you get my drift.”

“Maybe if I could talk to one of your detectives...” She looked at his badge, his uniform. She thought Ezzie had mentioned he’d been promoted, but maybe he didn’t like detective work.

“I am your detective, Annie. All of our officers and detectives are overcommitted right now, working a big case that’s spilled over from Harrisburg and Carlisle. Silver Valley’s caught in the middle of an ROC op.”

“Ouch. That’s a lot of work for a small force.” She knew what ROC meant. They had more than their share of it at NYPD. Organized crime of any type weighed down the caseload, pushed the officers to their limits as they fought not only to keep the streets of Silver Valley clean but human trafficking, the inflow of heroin and countless other ROC-related crimes. She looked around the station. “What do you have, thirty, maybe forty officers?”

He nodded. “Thirty-seven officers, three detectives. Four when I work as one.”

“I wondered about that—I was pretty certain Grandma Ezzie had told me that you were a detective. Why aren’t you now?” She waved at his uniform.

“Personal reasons. I needed the more regular hours for the short term.” His tone was tinged with regret. Based on the energy that vibrated off him, she suspected he liked to be in the middle of a case, solving it.

“Oh.” He must have a family. She didn’t see a ring, but a lot of officers didn’t wear them. It was for practical safety as a wedding band could lead to a severed finger in the midst of an operation, and to protect their loved ones from the vilest criminals who’d stalk their families. For some reason her stomach sank, and she experienced her first wave of defeat since returning to Silver Valley. Not that she’d hoped he was single, like her. His chuckle shook her out of her emotional pothole.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not married, Annie.” Oh, no, was she that freaking obvious? “What about you? Are you with anyone?”

“It’s none of my business if you’re single or not.” She bit her lip. “For the record, I’m not married, either. Or with anyone.”

“Ever been?” His teeth were so straight, so white, so sexy in that strong face. His lips were full for a man, yet only heightened his masculinity. “Annie?”

“Hmm? What?” She blinked. “No, never married. A few close calls.” One in particular that swore her off serious relationships for a long while after college and probably doomed the other, longer relationships she’d had. And made her extra sensitive to women like Kit. “You?”

Josh shook his head. “No, but I came close, too. I was engaged for a few years.” His face was unreadable. She wondered if he’d been hurt, why the relationship didn’t work out.

“That’s a long time. What ended it?” Shame sent warmth into her face again, and she held up a hand. “Wait, nix that. Sorry, it’s none of my business.” She’d come in here to help out Kit, possibly save her life. Instead she was flirting with a man she didn’t know, not anymore, not as the man he was today.

A tall, sexy length of police officer.

“That’s all right, Annie. It didn’t work because of a number of things, but mostly me. I wasn’t willing to commit to anything other than...” He trailed off, his eyes misting over but not with tears. Memories.

“Other than your job. I get it.”

“It wasn’t, wasn’t... We weren’t right for each other is all.” He cleared his throat, and she watched the smooth movement of his Adam’s apple, looked at his clean-shaven jaw and almost groaned when she noted the cleft in his chin. She had to stop this. She wasn’t in town for a fling, and a relationship with any man she met in Silver Valley would be short-lived. Her heart couldn’t deal with that right now. It was achy enough, thank you very much. “What about you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m pretty much a career girl.” She hated how much of a coward she was. Here he’d admitted some pretty private stuff, and all she gave him was a cute Mary Tyler Moore reply? “And my job at NYPD is all-consuming. As I’m sure you can imagine. Do you have a psychologist on your force?”

“No, but we contract out as needed. Whenever there’s a shooting, suspicious circumstances around a case that might be due to an officer, or when we have a rough accident or other first response scene.”

She nodded. “That’s what my job was meant to be, originally. But now we have so many cops who are military veterans with PTSD, and who’ve seen the worst here at home, too.”

“You mean like 9/11.”

“Yes. And the human trafficking.”

“We’ve got our share of the sex trade here in Silver Valley, believe it or not. This past year we had a local strip club employing underage girls from Ukraine. ROC brought them in. We’re working a huge case right now, as a matter of fact. There’s another suspected ROC group of underage women en route to Silver Valley. We’ve been able to stop these shipments before, miles away, but each time it’s getting closer to Silver Valley proper.” She saw the enormity of it in the lines etched between his brows.

“That reminds me—when I spoke to Kit, I got the feeling that how she came to the States might be questionable.”

“Hold that thought while I look a few things up.” His fingers flew over his keyboard, and she had to fight the urge to stare at his masculine hands. A man’s hands had always been one of her weak spots, and Josh’s would have made the throb between her legs pulse even if they weren’t. Guilt hit her in her gut. She was here to help out an abused woman, not get all sexy on an old crush.

Josh frowned as he read an open file. “The woman you’re talking about, Kit Valensky, is married to Vadim Valensky, the scumbag we suspect has dealings with ROC but never have been able to nail. We’re fairly certain he has ties to Dima Ivanov, but since the death of the number two guy in that chain of command, Yuri Vasin, there’s no connection we can prove. Did you know that we took out Vasin right here in Silver Valley two months ago?” He waited for her to shake her head. Heck, what had happened to her hometown? “We were thwarting a human trafficking operation the ROC ran. They’re up to it again, I’m afraid. Valensky’s a dangerous character if a fraction of what we suspect he’s responsible for is true.” Josh’s smile was gone, his intention clear. He wanted Valensky off the streets as much as she wanted to make sure Kit was safe. And Annie knew who Ivanov was—everyone in East Coast law enforcement did. He was the head honcho for ROC on the Eastern Seaboard.

“Kit’s in danger, then. We have to get her out of there.” Would waiting until the knit and chat night be good enough? Annie didn’t want to think about what could happen to Annie between now and then.

“There is a six-bedroom mansion on the top of Silver Hill, on the way to the mountains. The Appalachian Trail traverses right alongside its eight-foot wall. It’s a veritable fortress.” Frustration laced his words.

“You sound like you’ve tried to get on his property.”

“Maybe.” He stayed silent on the topic, and she respected that. She didn’t need to be privy to all the workings of a local case. But she still wanted Kit in a safe place.

“Josh, look, you don’t need to give me any details, but what I do need is a report filed that I witnessed those bruises on her. She’s supposed to come to our knit and chat tonight, between six and eight.”

“What’s that, a knitters’ meeting?”

“Yes. My grandmother has built quite the community with her shop, and the women as well as some men take care of one another like family. One of the regulars was in the shop earlier, and she was very friendly to Kit when she came in. Actually, you know the woman—it’s Ginny Vanderbruck.” They’d gone to school with Ginny’s granddaughter. “It’s clear to me that Kit is well liked and that the other knitters feel protective of her.”

“Let’s say she comes in tonight. Are you going to ask her point-blank if she’s in danger?”

“Absolutely. It’s my job. The only reason I didn’t yesterday is because I didn’t want to frighten her into not coming back. I gave her my number.”

“That’s good, all of it. I’m impressed, Annie. You’ve done more for Kit Valensky than anyone local’s been able to do in a long while. I don’t need her statement to press charges against Valensky, but if we can get her to confirm he did it, all the better.”

“So you’re saying she’s asked for help before?”

Josh’s expression stilled, and she knew the minute he trusted her. He shook his head. “Not here, not in Silver Valley. There are reports from where they lived before, though, out of state, in a rural area. The neighbors called in the loud noises, shouting. She and her husband told the responding officers that it was a mistake, that she was fine. She refused to press charges. They lived in a smaller house in a subdivision, according to the records. We only have them because we’ve been watching Valensky. At that time there were repeated complaints from the neighbors of angry shouting, the sounds of fights. But each time, she showed up at the front door with Valensky and said she was fine, and the local officers let it go. Which as you know, means they didn’t do their damned job. If it’d been an SVPD officer, he or she would have handled it the right way. We would have separated the two and got statements. They would have been recorded on the officer’s police cams. Charges would have been pressed.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his chestnut hair. It was short cropped but just long enough to remind her of the looser curls he’d sported in high school. God, how many times had she tugged his hair when they’d made out ad infinitum in that beat-up station wagon?

“What are you thinking, Annie?”

“Uh, nothing. Sorry—I drifted.”

His eyes were warm, and the crinkles at their edges teased her. “I’ve been doing some of that myself since you walked in here.”

They stared at one another, and it was like being in a bright tunnel, only the two of them, the years melting away. Except her body was feeling very adult responses to his every glance, each sound of his voice.

“Why didn’t you ever come back, Annie? Really.” He wasn’t asking for her résumé.

“I got involved in school, and then graduate school, and then this job.” And she’d been too wrapped up in her own hurt, needing the time to work through and heal from the abusive relationship that had flayed her soul and broken her heart. “And, well, I had some personal reasons, too, I guess.” Shame rushed her. “I should have come when your parents died. I’m so sorry, Josh.”

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged off her too-late amendment and looked at her. “I wondered. About your personal reasons for staying gone so long.”

“You never tried to find me.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so accusing. “I never blamed you—we agreed we were done after prom night.”

His mouth hitched on one side. “What a freaking disaster, right? Again, I’m sorry, Annie. I was a bumbling teen, and I blew the best relationship I’ve probably ever had.”

“We were kids.”

“That doesn’t mean our feelings weren’t adult. We were pretty precocious, wouldn’t you say?” Was that a twinkle in his eyes?

“Precocious. That’s not a word you hear in police work every day.” She couldn’t help but tease him.

“I’m not used to a police psychoanalyst coming in here every day, either.” His grin was pure magnificence.

“Psychologist, thank you very much.” She mirrored his grin, and felt a warm glow that she’d thought had been eradicated from her emotional repertoire years ago. Was it possible to heal so much later, in such a spectacular way?

“Roger.” Josh spoke the police word for “I hear you.” He twisted his desk chair as he angled his long, lean frame to face her, their chairs next to one another. His forearm brushed hers in the cramped space, and the tingle it sent through her was positively delicious. It was at once sexy and alarming, as this police department felt like her workspace at NYPD. She’d learned early in her career to not get involved with another officer on the job, but she wasn’t working as a cop right now, not really.

She inched her chair away the small bit his cubicle allowed and chose to ignore the sexy smile on his too-handsome face. He knew he turned her on, a worse crime than the fact that she was getting so hot and bothered in the middle of trying to help a victim.

“Josh, I can’t...”

He coughed, loudly, stopping her weak protest.

“The problem we have, Annie, is complex. You’ve reported what you think is a sign of abuse, yet the woman was in your store, perfectly healthy and normal in her behavior, correct?” His brow rose, and she knew what he was getting at.

“Except for how frightened she seemed, yes. And the bruises.”

“That’s your interpretation. I’m not saying I doubt you at all, but without Kit coming forward, we don’t have a lot. We’ve never had any complaints since they’ve lived here, but their house is also out of earshot of anyone but the bears.”

Annie swallowed and nodded. She knew everything he said was true. Still, she wished it could be taken care of more quickly, without the added risk of each hour Kit lived with that bastard.

“I knew you’d say that, and I do understand the legal issues. And there are problems with going to their home without her requesting help, and no reports of any noise or disturbance. Right now it’s my word, my observations only. But I also know you can go check things out, interview Valensky.”

The lines between his eyes deepened, and her fingers itched to smooth them. “We could. As I said, I’d prefer to do it with her corroboration, and when I know she’s not there. It’s admirable that you’re willing to help her, Annie. We’re far from at the end of the road for solutions. If she shows up at your knitting circle tonight, talk to her. Earn her trust. Get her to confide in you, to come in with you or at least agree to speak to me, and we’ll be able to move forward.”

“The odds of that...” She ran her fingers through her hair, her frustration familiar but no less dismal. Domestic abuse remained the toughest nut to crack.

He touched her forearm, a gesture of assurance that grounded her. “Normally, yes, the stats are against us in this type of case. But with you on her side, the odds of her opening up are high. That is, if you’re half as good a listener as the girl I knew.” His eyes blazed with the same heat that simmered in her belly and zinged straight to the intimate spot between her thighs, begging for release. If they weren’t in the Silver Valley Police Department, would he kiss her? She wasn’t sure.

Annie was absolutely certain, however, that she’d lean in and kiss him. Heck, who was she kidding? She’d straddle him in his chair and lay the hottest, sexiest, all-tongue kiss on him she had to give.

“Avery! Chief Todd’s called in a DUI on Silver Valley Pike.” The receptionist’s voice echoed through an intercom.

“Roger. I’m on it.” His gaze never left hers as he replied to the request and his mouth lifted in his signature half smile. “Until we meet again, Annie Fiero.”

Chapter 3

Annie was still thinking about Joshua Avery long after she left SVPD, and later, as she closed the shop Friday night. It was as if he’d personally stayed with her all day, but whether it was the sexy edge to his humor or her reaction to him, she couldn’t tell. He’d believed her story regarding Kit, and he had enough police information on Vadim Valensky to validate Annie’s concerns. She’d hoped to have more information for him after tonight’s knitting circle, or better, to bring Kit into SVPD to file a report. But Kit hadn’t shown up, much to Ginny’s and the other knitters’ dismay. Annie was the most disappointed but unable to share it.

The night hadn’t been a total wash, though, as a newer couple to the group, John and Jacob, were happy to announce their engagement and the night turned into a double celebration, adding to Lydia’s birthday party. Three new knitters had joined the festivities, as well. Annie had to hand it to her grandmother. Just as she’d told Josh, Ezzie had not only formed an entire community around the shop, she’d created a unique family of fiber crafters.

Annie turned the Open sign to Closed against the stained glass and locked up the store. She climbed the worn cherrywood steps to the apartment above the shop, running her hand along the timeworn banister. Silver Threads Yarn Shop was one of several businesses in downtown Silver Valley proper, but its Victorian architecture was rare. At some point it had been divided, and the other side had been remodeled into a dentist’s office, which it had remained until recently when a local had returned to Silver Valley after serving as an FBI agent in Washington, DC. She’d turned the dentist’s office into an outdoor adventure travel agency. It was especially busy this time of year, as groups of tourists came to the area to hike the AT, canoe the Susquehanna River and its tributaries, and enjoy day trips to surrounding attractions such as Gettysburg Battlefield and Hershey, Pennsylvania. Annie had met the owner, Abi Redland, only once but had liked her immediately. They were around the same age, she guessed.

Annie remembered when Ezzie had surprised her family by announcing she wanted to convert her library and living room into a yarn shop, move the kitchen upstairs and remodel the bedrooms, many empty, into an apartment. Annie marveled at her grandmother’s intelligence and, more importantly, her determination to make a life for herself after her beloved second husband of forty-five years had passed away suddenly, when Annie was in high school.

The roomy upstairs apartment had always been the perfect place for Annie to lick her psychological wounds, too. First when she’d broken up from an abusive boyfriend, during college. She’d only ever told her family the barest facts of her harrowing escape from the man who’d abused her regularly, who’d emotionally battered her until she was but a shell of the young woman who’d graduated high school with dreams of traveling the world and becoming an artist.

They all knew why she was on sabbatical this time, though, and supported her need to heal. And run her grandmother’s shop.

“Meow.” Ezzie’s cat greeted Annie at the door, wrapping his warm body around her ankles.

“Come here, Bubba.” She lifted the large orange tabby into her arms and was surprised that he didn’t try to claw his way out of her hug as she walked them both to the sofa and sat down. “Thank you, sweetness. I need a little TLC right now.”

Bubba purred as he rubbed his head along her chin. As she accepted his feline ministrations, she was reminded of the scary bruises on Kit’s jawline she’d spotted. Her stomach hardened at the brutal violence that she believed caused them. “We’re going to get that bastard and see that he’s locked up, aren’t we?”

Annie looked around the living room that was piled with various knitting and crochet projects, the baskets heaped with yarn, the doilies under each and every knickknack. Grandma Ezzie had managed to pack two lifetimes’ worth of stuff into the homey apartment. She wondered what she and her parents would do if Ezzie decided to stay in Florida for good. It would take months to clear the clutter.

It was “clutter” for many, but to Annie it was pure comfort. She set Bubba next to her on the sofa and stood. His tail twitched. “I’m going to make a cup of chamomile. Would you like a kitty snack?”

At the word snack, Bubba’s purr turned into an all-out drone. “You sound like you’re revving for the Indy 500, sweetie.”

Annie padded on bare feet into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards for a tea bag and the aluminum pouch of cat nibbles. Two definite raps sounded on the apartment’s front door and she jumped, but then stilled, her heart calming along with her mind. All part of police training to help her ascertain if there was indeed a threat, or if raccoons were in the garbage bins out back again. Silence settled over the tiny kitchen. Nothing. Bubba twitched his tail from where he sat atop the table, and she shooed him off.

“I hope those cute raccoons aren’t back. They’re handsome, but we don’t want to risk rabies, right, Bubba?” She shook the kibble bag at him, ready to offer the cat his treat, but Bubba darted to the front door, tail held high.

Annie blinked. Pets never lied about something different going on, or about intruders. She made her way to the door as quietly as she could, and peered through the peephole.

The top of a head was all she could make out, but the shade of hair and approximate height of the person was all she needed. Before she opened the large wooden door, the person looked into the peephole and knocked, more loudly this time.

“Annie, it’s me, Kit. Please. I need you.”

* * *

Kit wasted no time telling Annie that she feared for her life and wanted Silver Valley PD protection. Annie didn’t think twice; she called Josh. She spoke to Josh from the privacy of her bedroom while Kit waited in the living room.

“Where is she now, Annie?” His concerned tone reached through the phone.

“Here, with me. I’m staying upstairs from the yarn shop, in my grandmother’s apartment.”

“I sent an officer to her house earlier today but we didn’t get very far. She denied all possible charges and Valensky did, too.”

“The officer’s visit probably triggered Valensky.”

“Yeah, not unusual. If she’s ready to move forward, though, I can have charges filed against him by tomorrow. Not sure how you do it at NYPD, but at SVPD, the police officer files the charges. It’s to protect the victim and to prevent the all-too-common dropping of charges by the same victim.”

“I understand. What should I do now, besides wait for you?”

“Stay put and I’ll be over as soon as I have Becky’s sitter come over. If I can’t make it within twenty minutes, I’ll send another officer. Keep her comfortable and take note of what she tells you. I guess I don’t have to tell you that. You’re a professional.”

“Got it. And, Josh? Thanks for picking up.”

* * *

“You did the right thing by coming to Annie’s.” Josh’s voice reverberated around Ezzie’s living room. She’d been back in touch with him for less than twenty-four hours, and yet he’d come when she’d called, agreed to help her with Kit’s situation. Annie wanted to act quickly since Kit could decide against telling the police everything at any moment. She’d reached out to Josh, hoping he’d send an officer right away. He did—himself. Annie’s shoulders immediately lowered as the tension left her. Josh could put the most feral cat at ease.

“Vadim will kill me if he finds out I told anyone. He was so angry when that cop showed up at the house today, asking questions.” Kit shivered under one of Ezzie’s hand-knit afghans.

“You don’t have to go back there. There’s a women’s shelter in Cumberland County, right, Josh?” Annie’s confidence in Josh and SVPD’s efficiency were boosted by Kit’s words. But Josh hadn’t told her that he’d sent someone to Valenskys’ house. Not that he reported to her.

Josh nodded. “Yes, there is, but to be honest I think Kit would be safer either staying here with you or going to a shelter in another state.” He gave Annie a meaningful look and mouthed the letters ROC. Of course. She should have thought of it. If Valensky was part of ROC, he’d have connections everywhere and find out where Kit was without much effort. It was the sad truth about organized crime. Its effectiveness depended on networking. Nothing happened in an area the ROC claimed without the ROC knowing about it.

“He’ll never know if we play this right, Kit.” Annie wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “You can tell him that I called you, or that my grandmother did, for help with the shop. Or, if from what you told us, he’s still passed out, he’ll never know you left.”

“Is that true, Kit? That he drinks so much on a regular basis?” Josh’s tone conveyed authority but more importantly, compassion.

She nodded. “Yes. His drinking is much worse these days than in the beginning.” She started to cry again. “He used to be much nicer to me. The beatings didn’t start until the last couple of years. First before we moved here, and then once we were in this big house.”

Annie met Josh’s gaze over Kit’s bent head. Anger, determination and compassion were reflected in his eyes. The realization that they were a team working this case together hit her. So much for her sabbatical.

“I’m only the yarn shop owner, as far as your husband is concerned, Kit. You already know from my grandmother that when I’m in New York I work for NYPD on their staff as a psychologist.” Annie braced herself, waiting for Kit’s reaction.

Kit sniffed. “I knew what you did when I came into the shop. Ezzie told me all about you. She’s so proud.”

“My point is that I’m obligated to report any evidence of possible abuse that I witness. I went to Josh with my suspicions after you were in the shop earlier.” Annie waited for Kit’s response. This was always the tricky part—garnering trust while in fact working without the victim’s tacit permission.

Kit looked Annie in the eye and nodded. “I know what you do, and while I don’t like it that you went to the police without telling me, I understand. I suppose I’m the fool for not coming forward sooner.”

“You’re no fool, Kit. You’re one brave woman.” And Annie meant it. Because she understood more than Kit knew she did. She’d been the victim of an abusive boyfriend in college.

She caught Josh’s eyes as he stared at her. Hope reflected in his expression. Somehow, they were going to save this woman and put the man who’d basically enslaved her behind bars.

As they gazed at one another, the connection moved from solely professional to a level of intimacy.

Sensual awareness hit her in the solar plexus. Annie knew the feeling—she was swimming in the deep end of the relationship ocean with this man. It was going to be all or nothing, starting with her agreeing to serve on this case while she ran her grandmother’s shop. It seemed incongruous to be on sabbatical from such a huge personal and professional loss at NYPD, then be called to serve on a dangerous local case while she did something as mundane, as far from law-enforcement ops as possible, as run a yarn shop. Annie fought the urge to speak up and say she couldn’t help, not this time. What if she screwed up, missed another warning sign like she had in NYC? But Josh’s expression kept her silent. He needed her, Kit needed her.

Being in Silver Valley was supposed to be her respite from NYPD and losing her friend. Instead she was in the middle of what could potentially become an ROC revenge case. Because ROC protected its own and she was helping Kit take down its senior-most point of contact in Silver Valley.

Instead of a respite, she’d walked into an asp’s den. No amount of fuzzy skeins of yarn could take away a lethal threat.

* * *

Josh allowed the heat in Annie’s gaze to stoke his desire for her, but not so much that it would be creepy in front of Kit. As quickly as the fire was there between them, it blew out, the shadows in Annie’s eyes indicating she was struggling. He got it. She’d arrived in Silver Valley to take a break and instead found herself facing a lethal ROC operative, via his abused spouse.

He was grateful, and not a little glad, that she’d trusted him enough to reach out again. She could have called it into SVPD dispatch, but she’d texted him. He’d almost banged his head on the headboard when Annie’s text dinged on his nightstand and he’d grabbed his phone.

Kit’s here. Come now.

Annie’s place was actually her grandmother’s, but he felt Annie’s imprint all over the space. How could he not when she sat across from him, next to Kit on the small sofa? If he were honest, he’d admit he hadn’t shaken the sense of warmth and charged energy she’d left with him at the station.

First things first.

“Annie’s going to be your right hand through all of this, Kit. You have nothing to worry about. First, are you physically okay? Do you want a physical exam?”

Kit shook her head, much to Josh’s regret but not surprise. She looked at him with a hard expression. “He hasn’t hit me in almost a month. These bruises are old—I have very fair skin. I’ve been thinking about reporting him for a long time, ever since I came to the United States.”

“How long have you been in the States?” His records reflected she’d married Valensky five years ago.

“Six years. I was brought to New Jersey and introduced to Vadim at a strip club. He said he was going to give me a new life and he took me home. I trusted him, as much as I could, because he protected me from getting pimped out. I only ever had to dance in the club. We were married a year later.”

“How old were you then?”

“The records will say I was eighteen, because that’s what my fake passport says. But I was only sixteen when we married.”

Josh saw Annie’s chest visibly rise and fall, her shock evident. He got it. As many times as you read about these cases, it was always tough to see the victim, any victim, in person.

“So you were underage and forced into a marriage.” He pictured his own sister being treated so horribly, and knew he was going to do all it took to put Vadim Valensky behind bars. Along with his cohorts. The perfect timing of this wasn’t wasted on him. A chance to take down the Silver Valley rep to ROC, just as SVPD was assigned to help intercept and prevent another group of women smuggled from a former Soviet bloc nation to be sold into sex slavery. His nape tingled the way it always did when he was onto something valid in a case. He leaned in and listened to Kit’s every word.

“Vadim is a product of how he was raised, and his alcoholism. He’s never known any different. So this part I can almost forgive, as I’ve learned to avoid him when he’s drunk. If I wanted to see Vadim go to jail for hurting me, I could have already done it, but I have to save anyone else they want to hurt.”

“Other women, and whatever else Vadim’s doing, aren’t your business, Kit. He’s a threat to you. He could kill you with his bare hands if he decides to.” Annie’s professional skills were obvious as she tried to make Kit see the danger she was in.

Kit nodded. “I know that. But he’s involved in something far worse, and I want him and the men he works with to all go to jail. That’s why I’m here. To help get Vadim and his friends caught. They are horrible human beings.”

“Your safety has to come first, though. If anything happens to you, we won’t have a case. Right, Josh?”

Annie’s blue eyes saw through to his soul, and he wondered if she realized she’d said “we.” As if they were a team and working a case together. Which, practically speaking, they were.

“Yes and no. I’m going to file charges against him.” As the reporting officer, he had the right and obligation to press charges against Valensky. Standard SVPD procedure was for the police to press the charges in order to protect the domestic violence victim and ensure the abuser met justice. Too many victims recanted after their abusers once again intimidated and manipulated them. He silently damned the Podunk cop or sheriff who’d known what was going on with Valensky years ago but never pressed charges. It would have saved Kit from untold abuse.

Annie rubbed the place between Kit’s shoulders. “We’re going to keep you safe, Kit. It’s our job.”

Annie looked at him with determination and expectation.

“Exactly. What Annie said.” The bond between him and Annie was palpable. It made him feel like he was agreeing to more than Annie’s promise to help Kit. As if she wanted more of whatever they shared than working a case together.

* * *

Annie had never been so attuned to any other officer or colleague she’d worked with as she was to Josh as he sat in Grandma Ezzie’s feminine living room, his attention on Kit. Was it wrong to revel in the pure male beauty sitting right in front of her?

Kit waved her hand at both of them, as if Annie and Josh were naive. “Trust me, I’ve made it this far with Vadim. And I’ll outlive him as long as he keeps drinking like he does. He’s never used a weapon on me, and only hits me when he’s drunk. He doesn’t remember in the morning and is ashamed for what he knows he must have done. He’s not a total monster.” Kit spoke with the wisdom of an old woman, yet she was only twenty-one or -two. Annie disagreed with her on the monster part, but kept silent.

“Can you tell me a little more about what you meant, Kit? When you said Vadim’s involved in something you don’t like?” Josh’s tone was professional yet incredibly compassionate. Annie mentally stopped adding his sexy points up—he was off the charts.

“I’m not exactly sure because he hides everything from me. But I’m almost positive he’s helping other women get tricked into coming here.” Kit looked first at Annie, then Josh. “He treats me like a little girl who can’t handle anything except getting her nails done and buying the latest designer purse. He only allowed me to go to SVCC because he thought I might be interested in learning English better.” Kit referred to Silver Valley Community College. “I can speak it well enough, from watching television, but I still need work on my writing.”

“He lets you go to school?”

“Oh, yes. I was bored and wanted to get a job, but he was dead set against it. No woman of ‘his’ ever needs to work.” She made air quotes around his and scrunched up her face in distaste. “When I told him I needed something to engage my mind, he understood. I had to time it between his blackouts, of course. I didn’t want to come home to him drowned in his own vomit.” Spoken with such ease, as if dealing with a blackout drunk was a normal part of life. For Kit, it was.

“Are you still taking classes?” Annie had met so many domestic violence victims who had zero self-esteem left. Going to college would seem beyond them, even if they had the financial ability.

“Yes. And I’ve taken whatever I wanted to take.” Underneath the layer of wariness Annie had witnessed earlier, Kit was incredibly strong and driven. A woman with a purpose. But Annie didn’t want that strength to become her downfall, either.

“That’s brave.” Annie meant it.

“I’ve finished all the classes for an associate’s degree in Criminal Justice. Vadim won’t allow me to go away to Penn State, but he agreed to allow me to take more classes. I needed his permission to pay for them, of course. Now I’m working on a second associate’s degree, in computers.” She shrugged. “I want to be able to help other women who were brought here against their will. One day I’d love to work in law enforcement myself.” She said the last shyly, her eyes downcast. “But as far as Vadim’s concerned, I took the classes for him, to be able to help him with his business. I never, ever told him my hopes to escape and start my own business.”

Annie’s insides plummeted with her hope. “Wait—you’ve helped your husband in his work for ROC—Russian Organized Crime?”

Kit’s eyes widened. “No, no, I will never help him in what he’s doing. He’s not asked me to yet, but I’ve let him think I will. That I don’t have a problem with what he does. Of course, I don’t let on how much I know, and I tell him I’ll help him with his pawnshop. He thinks I’m book smart but life stupid. Sometimes the only way to survive is to go along with the flow, as you say.”

“What exactly do you think your husband is involved with, Kit? Besides the pawnshop?” Josh spoke up, and Annie knew that he already had his suspicions of Valensky, but needed Kit to share what she knew. She tried not to hold her breath, as the entire crux of what Josh hoped to accomplish here rested on this moment.

“He’s been working with his criminal colleagues and bringing in shipments of women to the Silver Valley and Harrisburg area. Women from all over Eastern Europe and Asia, young women. They are told they’ll work in a home as a nanny and be able to go to school. But they...they never do. They have to work in a strip bar, or as escorts. Some get sent out to be married, like I was.”

“Escorts, as in prostitutes?” Josh needed Kit to give him the truth, but Annie hated that Kit had to feel all of these emotions again. Because she had no doubt that Kit had been one of these women six years ago when she’d come over.

Kit nodded. “Yes. But not on the streets, not like you see on television. This is in private men’s clubs, where the girls are never seen in public, only by the customers. He had a good friend, a criminal contact he worked with exclusively. But he’s disappeared, and now I’m not sure who Vadim’s working with.”

Annie’s jaw started to ache, and she realized she’d been clenching her teeth. It was one thing to be exposed to the sickest parts of human nature in a huge metropolis like New York, but to be faced with such ugliness injected into Silver Valley was sad. Her hometown, the place she went to in her mind whenever life on the city streets proved too much, had been infected with the same vile human behavior.

“Did you know the name of Vadim’s contact?”

“Yes. It was Yuri Vasin. I saw in the paper that he died in that crash a couple of months ago.” As Kit spoke, Annie watched Josh’s expression. It remained neutral, but when he looked at her, she recognized the gleam of determination. Josh had just confirmed that Kit’s account matched the police records. Annie gave him a quick nod before he turned back to Kit.

How was it possible to be thinking about saving Kit and her overwhelming emotions regarding Josh at the same time?

“I’m going to need you to give me an official statement about what you know of your husband’s actions, Kit. Who he talks to, where he works on a regular basis.”

Josh’s voice only increased her confusion. How could she feel so comfortable with him when she hadn’t seen him in over ten years? She’d worked with NYPD colleagues for years and still didn’t enjoy the immediate sense of trust she did with Josh.

Dare she trust Josh as she had no other? If she wanted to be an asset to SVPD as they faced down ROC, she’d have to.

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