“You’re going to tell me the whole story,” Sophia said.

He’d never been a fan of her using his general’s tone, but if any situation required it, this was the one.

“I am,” Frank replied, with both hands on the steering wheel once more. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I already don’t like it, Frank.”

“The man following you was one of the top snipers in the Afghanistan military. One word from his boss and your life is over.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why?” Who would make her a target?

“That’s one detail. I swear to you, as soon as I’m sure we’re out of harm’s way, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Harm’s way or not, you’ll tell me everything tonight.” He wasn’t the only one who could issue orders.

With a short nod, he rolled his broad shoulders.

She remembered the feel of those shoulders under her hands after a tough day at work when she’d help him work out the kinks … or late at night in the heat of passion.

Oh, how she wanted to trust him, to be sure she could trust him.

It scared her, more than being run off the road, just how much she wanted to believe in Frank Leone again.

Heavy Artillery

Husband

Debra Webb & Regan Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. Since then the USA TODAY bestselling author has penned more than one hundred novels, including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series.

REGAN BLACK, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Authors

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Chicago, Illinois

Monday, April 18, 6:45 p.m.

Sophia Leone sat back as the waiter delivered wide shallow bowls filled with the best pasta in the Windy City. From the first warm embrace upon her arrival, her friend Victoria Colby-Camp and her husband, Lucas Camp, had carefully kept the conversation on lighthearted topics.

It couldn’t stay that way. All three of them recognized there were serious matters to address. As the founder of the Colby Agency, Victoria never let her mind stray too far from business, especially not when she sensed a friend in trouble.

Was she in trouble? Sophia couldn’t decide. She was still processing everything that had happened over the past few days.

She resisted the urge to run her fingers over the fading goose egg on her scalp. Hidden by her hair just above her ear, it was the only remnant of the shocking fight in her kitchen. Though it had been a terrible ordeal, the real culprit was in custody and the people who mattered most were safe. Coming to Chicago gave her a chance to escape and some space to decide how she wanted to move forward.

While this visit to Chicago needed to shift into business, tonight was for pleasure. She wanted time to relax and catch up with her friends. She hadn’t realized just how pervasive that undercurrent of tension in her life had been during the months when her daughter, Frankie, refused to speak with her. Now it was marvelous to share how happily Frankie and her fiancé, Aidan, a former Colby Agency investigator, were coming along with their wedding plans. With countless questions and decisions remaining, the two most important details were finalized. They’d set a date for September and Aidan’s family would be in attendance.

“I’m still not sure we’ve forgiven you for stealing Aidan away,” Lucas teased when the waiter walked away. “Victoria had to get creative when she recruited him.”

“He was ready to try this side of the pond.” Victoria shot her husband an amused glance. “I might’ve implied that when the river turned green on St. Patrick’s Day, Chicago would feel like Ireland.”

Watching the banter between the pair made Sophia’s heart twist painfully. It reminded her so much of the wonderful days when she’d felt that camaraderie and partnership with her own husband. Brigadier General Franklin Leone had been dead almost a year now and she still couldn’t quite accept it.

She took a bite of her meal and worked hard to enjoy the fresh flavors of tender pasta and crisp vegetables. She would not let a wave of loneliness ruin the evening. Doing her best to keep up her end of the conversation, she shared more about her future son-in-law. “Aidan is mesmerized with the Seattle area. He hasn’t seen much beyond the sights downtown, but when they dropped me at the airport this morning, he and Frankie were planning a visit to Tillicum Village this weekend. It’s a traditional native tribal experience.”

“I remember making that trip ages ago,” Lucas said. “They’ll have a fantastic time.”

“You know, I think he might be considering it for the rehearsal dinner.” Sophia smiled with anticipation. “It would be quite memorable if it works out.”

Victoria’s eyes sparkled. “Their wedding will be memorable, regardless. I know we’re both looking forward to attending.”

“And Frankie can’t wait to have you both join us,” Sophia replied. With so much to celebrate, it was silly of her to dwell on who wouldn’t be there. She took another bite of her pasta, washed it down with a sip of excellent wine and struggled again to forgive her husband for missing this incredible milestone in their daughter’s life.

Victoria leaned forward and lowered her voice. “If everything is perfect and wonderful, why are you only poking at your dinner?”

Sophia lifted her gaze and met the concern shining in her friend’s eyes. Victoria was as sharp as any of the private investigators she kept on her staff. While all three of them knew this dinner was meant to be comforting, neither she nor Victoria had ever been good at beating around the proverbial bush.

Sophia smiled. “I just can’t say thank you enough.” Without Victoria, she and her daughter might never have been reconciled.

Victoria set her fork aside and reached for her glass of wine. “You’ve said thank you more than enough already—none of which was necessary. I’m happy for you and Frankie, even if it cost me a top investigator.”

Why had Sophia come all this way if she wasn’t going to be honest about her other concerns? This wasn’t something to discuss over a phone or a video chat later. She wanted to see their immediate reactions when she asked her questions. Sophia tried to muster some courage. Shy and uncertain weren’t typical for her. She was accustomed to boldly heading exactly where she needed to go in a conversation or in business.

“Aidan is remarkable,” Sophia said with a tight smile. “You should see them together.” Here she went again, dancing around the more pertinent issue. Get to the point!

“We’ll see them at the wedding.” Victoria’s smile didn’t quite ease the curiosity in her eyes. “But I’m sure that’s not why you’ve come all this way, Sophia.”

“Should I excuse myself?” Lucas asked.

“Of course not,” Sophia replied immediately. Whatever she told Victoria would find its way to Lucas anyway. She didn’t begrudge them that. It had been the same in her own marriage. Until those last two years anyway, when his overseas operations put more than geography obstacles between her and her husband.

Why couldn’t she just get the words out? It wasn’t as if Victoria wouldn’t understand her predicament. By now her friend had probably guessed why she’d made the trip. “You know I still have questions about Frank.”

Both Lucas and Victoria nodded, though neither offered any comment.

Her husband had been found guilty of treason during his last deployment. Before he could be transferred to prison, he’d killed himself, leaving Frankie and Sophia to deal with the fallout. When she closed her eyes at night, the memory of watching that closed-circuit monitor fill with the image of his pale, lifeless face haunted her. Sophia suspected he had carried terrible secrets to his grave. Secrets that might not even have answers.

Though Frankie believed her father was innocent of the treason charge and was certain he’d been murdered, there had never been a scrap of evidence to support her theory. It was only one facet of the complex situation that had wedged them apart.

While Sophia had accepted she’d always be curious about her husband’s last days, it was her internal battle that had brought her to Chicago. During her career as a military analyst, she’d taken information and made concise assessments. Now she wondered if her ability to read people and situations had failed her.

“Not just Frank.” Sophia shook her head. “It’s Paul, too.” In the wake of Frank’s suicide, she’d needed to act quickly to protect her future and Frankie’s, as well. Paul Sterling, an old friend, had helped her launch Leo Solutions, the security company she and her husband had envisioned to keep them busy after his retirement. Mere days ago she’d found out Paul had betrayed her in favor of his own interests.

How had she allowed two men to fool her so completely?

“Every way I look at what’s happened,” Sophia went on, “the common denominator is my judgment or lack thereof.” She picked up her fork, stabbing a stem of roasted asparagus and dragging it through the light cream sauce. “Forget I said anything.” She glanced from Victoria to Lucas. “I don’t really know what I need, or even what I want to do next. Please, let’s talk about something else.”

“All right,” Victoria said. “Have you found your dress for the wedding?”

“I have something in mind.” Sophia felt her smile bloom. It happened whenever she toyed with ideas for the upcoming wedding. While the final choices would be up to Frankie and Aidan, she loved window-shopping and perusing magazines and online sites for creative ideas to present to the bride and groom. “It’s all happened so quickly, I’ve only been shopping online so far. Frankie hasn’t had any time to decide on colors or venues, though she made me promise not to wear something that fades into the decor. I thought I might shop a bit while I’m here.”

“We should go together,” Victoria said with an eager smile. “The mother of the bride should dazzle, but not quite as much as the bride herself. Has Frankie given any thought to her dress?”

“Not particularly. You know she wasn’t the type of little girl who played wedding day dress up like so many of her friends.” Sophia curled her fingers around the hemmed edge of the napkin in her lap, assaulted by memories of happier times. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m hoping she’ll choose to have my wedding gown altered and restyled to make it hers.”

“Oh, that would be beautiful.” Victoria blinked rapidly. “You’re all right with the idea?”

“I suggested it.” Sophia forgot to take the bite of pasta she’d gathered onto her fork. “She loves the traditional, understated lines of my wedding dress and it’s a way for her to include her father.” Sophia felt bittersweet tears at the back of her throat. She would not cry another tear for Frank or his memory. “She wants to honor the start of our family as she starts her own.”

“Sounds as though your daughter’s a thoughtful and compassionate young woman,” Lucas said.

Sophia could have hugged him. It was the perfect assessment and a lovely way to put it. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Her gaze dropped to her plate as her mind drifted back to that idyllic time when the future was a bright, hope-filled horizon. The Leone family had faced the world together as a team. She’d weathered the highs and lows with her husband during his military career. Just when they were on the cusp of the next stage—ready to enjoy their empty nest and launch a new venture—life had fallen to pieces. Countless times over the past year, she’d fought off the urge to scream and wave her fist at that deceptive horizon. Life is not always fair, Sophia.

“Frankie still believes he was innocent, doesn’t she?” Lucas asked.

Sophia nodded, her heart heavy. “Her faith in him is relentless and even stronger now since Paul revealed his true colors.”

“She’s Frank’s daughter through and through,” Victoria observed. “I saw it the moment she walked into my office. She has his stride, his chin and all of his tenacity.”

“Among other things,” Sophia admitted. There were moments, such as this one, when the sadness at the scope of her loss flattened her. She tossed her napkin over the remainder of her dinner and swallowed back another wave of unanswerable questions. Her fingers locked in her lap and she squeezed until her knuckles protested.

Victoria leaned forward, her voice low. “Keeping your worries bottled up isn’t helping you move forward.”

“If you’d rather discuss what’s troubling you elsewhere, we can wrap this up,” Lucas offered.

“That’s kind of you both, but not necessary. I’m overthinking things.” Sophia tried to believe that explanation as she unclenched her hands, automatically rubbing the place where her wedding rings had been. She’d taken them off the day after the funeral, when any reminder of her ties to her disgraced husband would impede the launch of Leo Solutions. As a family, they’d been so close. As a couple, they’d focused their plans on giving Frankie a solid foundation. How had it suddenly crumbled?

“Frankie wasn’t the only one to dig into Frank’s case. I’ve been discreet,” Sophia confessed. “I haven’t found anything helpful or conclusive yet. It would be nice to confirm my suspicions about his guilt or innocence. Frankie views him with a daughter’s hero worship. I won’t take that away from her.”

“Of course not,” Victoria agreed.

“After the things Paul said and did last week, it made me wonder about Frank all over again.” Sophia recognized that Victoria knew more than her fair share about pain and betrayal. She understood how betrayal often led a person to ignore some details and put more weight on other points, which blurred the facts into something closer to fiction. “Maybe Frankie’s right and we should try harder to clear her dad’s name.”

“Say the word and I’ll have one of our investigators start digging into it.”

Sophia appreciated Victoria’s offer. It came as no surprise, and professional assistance was one more reason to be here in person. She should say yes and let Victoria handle it while she went back to help Frankie with wedding plans. Would the answers change anything? Her husband was dead, a convicted traitor—it wasn’t a simple matter at all. The problem was still too sensitive, too fresh even a year after the verdict.

Now that the offer was on the table, she wasn’t sure an investigation was the right way to go. “Maybe we should investigate.” As the words left her mouth, everything felt all wrong. “Or maybe not.” Exasperated with herself, she tried to laugh. “What do I know?”

Her throat tight with frustration, she raised her glass and finished off her wine. Her hotel was just down the street and she didn’t have to worry about driving. The bold flavors of the wine melted on her tongue but didn’t give her any insight or steady her nerves. Didn’t she want the answers? Wouldn’t that help her sleep at night?

Assuming Victoria’s investigators could find the truth, knowing the facts wouldn’t actually change anything. Frankie would still be short one outstanding father. As Sophia had reviewed Frank’s last few years, even amid all the chaos and inevitable suspicion, she’d never doubted his love or devotion to their daughter.

“Why don’t we launch the investigation? You can call it off at any time,” Lucas said.

No, it was better not to start at all. “Perhaps,” Sophia replied at last, “his secrets, good or bad, are better left buried.”

“Even if he was murdered?”

“I know what Frankie believes and I can’t blame her. Suicide doesn’t fit the Frank Leone we knew and loved.” Sophia carried the burden of that heartache in the locked muscles across her shoulders. “I didn’t tell her or anyone else how he changed, how he pulled away from me at the end. I’m not sure she ever needs to know about those final months.”

Though they hadn’t been aware back then that it would be the end. Sophia had thought there would be time for him to come around and be himself once more. She’d talked about it with a therapist, focused on shoring up her weaknesses, never expecting Frank to break.

“You have excellent instincts, Sophia. What do you know?” Victoria prompted.

“Certainly my husband had enemies capable of staging a suicide.” Though she’d searched, none of his obvious adversaries had been in the area at the time of his death. “Even if by some miracle of detective work we could pinpoint a culprit now, bringing that person to justice would likely be impossible.”

“That’s a fair point.” Lucas nodded sagely. “And it would create a distraction and turmoil when you and Frankie should be focused on happier events.”

“Yes,” Sophia agreed. “That’s exactly the issue. I don’t want to do anything that would cast a cloud over her wedding day. She and I might have unanswered, even unanswerable questions, but we’re finally at a point where we both feel as though we have strong family ties again.” She leaned back as the waiter removed dishes and poured more wine. When he was gone, she admitted, “Part of my hesitation is that I don’t want to be proven right, either.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“If the verdict was correct, if Frank did commit treason, I don’t want to confirm that and destroy Frankie’s fond memories. Whatever happened in his final assignment, he did everything right as a dad.”

“We understand completely,” Victoria said. “If you change your mind at any time, the offer is there for you.”

“Thank you for listening and letting me ramble on about it.”

“If you want my professional assessment, I’ll say your instincts haven’t been compromised in the slightest,” Victoria declared in her trademark steely tone. “Paul took advantage while you were distracted by grief, that’s all. Whatever Frank didn’t tell you about his career or his personal problems, he loved you and Frankie above all else. He must have been protecting you.”

“He loved Frankie.” During those last two years, Sophia had lost her faith that her husband loved her with equal devotion. He’d grown distant and secretive. She’d tried and failed to chalk it up to his protective nature.

Victoria consulted her watch. “One more minute for self-pity and then I’m ordering an outrageous dessert for all of us to share.”

Lucas pretended to protest, shifting his chair close enough to drape an arm across the back of Victoria’s.

They looked utterly content as a couple, as a team. Sophia had had that once, for nearly the entirety of her thirty-year marriage. However, that period of her life had ended, and she needed to focus on the good times, to let the uncertainty go.

“I don’t need even one more minute.” Sophia reached into her purse for her cell phone. “Let me show you some pictures of far more important things.”

She brought up a slide show and together the three of them admired the options Frankie would eventually sort out, from bouquets and centerpieces to tuxedo tails and cake flavors. “We’ve already decided to surprise Aidan with an old family recipe for the groom’s cake.”

“This will be a dream day for all of you,” Victoria said with a wistful smile. “You must be so excited.”

“We’re going to have so much fun with the planning. Both of them are huge assets to Leo Solutions. I have so much to look forward to.” Catching herself gushing, she paused for a breath. “I thought I’d lost that relationship with her forever. You returned it to me, Victoria. You and Aidan.” There weren’t enough thank-yous to adequately express her joy that her daughter was healthy, happy and thriving again. It truly was time to stop dwelling on the past and let go of the questions that would never have answers.

Sophia insisted on paying for dinner, managing to win a lighthearted argument with Lucas over the check. As they parted ways at the restaurant door, a shopping date scheduled for tomorrow, she chose to walk rather than accept Victoria’s offer for a ride to the hotel. The crisp spring breeze drifting off the lake caught at her hair, boosting her mood as she headed down the street.

Moments after Victoria’s car pulled away, she regretted her decision. Without the distraction of conversation, she felt eyes on her immediately. A chill raised the hair at the back of her neck and she called on her years of self-discipline not to show any recognition to her observer. She knew she would be safe enough as long as she was surrounded by other pedestrians.

Though she hadn’t made a secret of her travel plans to Chicago, she couldn’t imagine who would bother watching her. Mind over matter, she thought as she put one foot in front of the other, shoulders back, head high, refusing to let her discomfort show.

The tactic had served her well as a general’s wife, an analyst and a mother. Opponents large and small had cowered in the face of her poise and determination. Let whoever was out there watch. Let them see Sophia Leone hadn’t changed a bit as a widow or under the pressure of the events that followed.

Poised or not, she felt a wave of relief wash over her when she entered the hotel lobby, interrupting that intense, uncomfortable scrutiny. She crossed to the front desk with a smile on her face. She might as well extend her reservation for an additional night. One day of shopping with Victoria might not be enough.

“Ah, Ms. Leone, of course. And you have a message.”

“I do?” Sophia was surprised. Frankie would have called her cell.

The man behind the desk passed her a small envelope embossed with the hotel logo. Sophia noted the precise block lettering of her name on the outside. Memories whispered through her, making her shiver. Frank had preferred that style over his nearly illegible cursive handwriting. They’d often joked that he had the penmanship of a doctor. How rude of someone to try to irritate her by mimicking his habit. She caught herself in the middle of the overreaction. Printed lettering wasn’t a personal attack or automatic insult. She chalked up her edginess to having been watched so closely on her brief walk. Moving down the hall toward the elevators, she opened the envelope and pulled out the note.

She quickly read it through. She grabbed at the nearest wall for support as her knees buckled. You and Frankie are in danger. Meet me at Parkhurst by nine. Prepare to run.

It wasn’t signed, but the writing, the location told her it had to be from Frank. That was impossible. He was dead.

Parkhurst, the US Army Reserve Center just off the old Route 66. She and Frank had been there once for a dining out, early in his career. They’d just learned she was pregnant. She remembered avoiding the wine but not the curious speculation of the other wives. She pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the whimper building in her throat. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be. She needed to get to her room. Needed to return to the desk and get a description of who had delivered the message.

Her stomach tightened while she read the note again more slowly. The meaning didn’t register at all as her fingertip followed the bold swipe of the pen strokes making up each letter and word. Her body sighed with memories of those happier times.

With an effort, she straightened her spine, tucked away the nostalgia and pulled herself together. Whoever had created this note had forged Frank’s handwriting perfectly. Sophia swallowed and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. Frank wasn’t the only person in the world to write this way. He wasn’t the only person who would choose a remote location for a discreet meeting. At the edge of the nature preserve surrounding the facility, there would be plenty of privacy at night.

She walked back to the front desk, hoping she didn’t look as pale as she felt. When the clerk smiled, she held up the note. “Can you tell me who left this and when?”

The young man on duty shook his head. “It was here when I came on an hour ago. Jenny only told me it was urgent, according to the man who left it.”

“Man?”

The desk clerk nodded.

She pressed her lips together as potential images and thoughts collided like bumper cars in her head. “Could I access your security footage?”

“Um, no? That kind of thing would have to be approved by our—”

“It’s okay,” she said, cutting his protest short. What were the odds the person who’d written the missive had had the audacity to deliver it? Zero to none. She tapped the note against her palm. “Thank you for your time.”

Shoulders back, she aimed for the elevator once more. Frank was dead. She’d seen him in that morgue. Dead men didn’t send notes inviting their widowed wives to meetings, advising them to run. Someone was attempting to put her off balance. She hitched her shoulders at the thought of being watched during her walk from the restaurant. Someone wanted to frighten her and lure her from the safety of the hotel.

Defiant, she reached out and punched the call button for the elevator. When the car arrived, she shoved the note into her purse, ignoring it. She would not be influenced by the emotions of her past. It would be foolish to dash out to a relatively deserted area alone. She knew better than to take that sort of risk.

When she reached her room, she found another note on the floor just inside the doorway. Someone had slipped it under the door. No name on the envelope this time. She tore it open and tears sprang to her eyes as she skimmed it. The message was the same handwriting as the note left at the desk, but the first word stole her breath.

Dolcezza.

Stunned, she went limp and slid to the floor, the wall her only support. Her gaze was locked on the precious endearment Frank had used from their first date through every phone call and letter when they were apart. She pressed her lips together, holding back the wail of frustration and pain swelling in her throat.

So he’d called her sweetheart in Italian. Any number of people might know that detail about their lives. This did not mean Frank had miraculously returned from the dead. Whoever was orchestrating this was pushing all the right buttons, prodding her to make a predictable response. Melodramatic and cruel, she thought, checking her watch. If she left now, she’d just get to Parkhurst in time. Options ran through her mind. Victoria could help her sort out who had delivered the message. She could certainly find someone to ride with her or shadow her to the meeting.

But what if it was Frank?

What was she thinking? Her husband was dead, his body buried in Seattle. She thought suddenly about the closed casket. What if...?

No. Her husband had been an incredible man and she’d loved him from that first moment through all the ups and downs of marriage and career to the farewell she hadn’t known would be their last. She’d stood by him against the treason charges despite her doubts.

She glanced at the note, heard his voice whispering “dolcezza” at her ear when she read it again. Absolutely not. Remarkable he might’ve been, but not even Frank could come back from the dead. Shoving the second note into her purse with the first, she dragged herself from the floor and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

When she came out, the notes taunted her. Her maternal instinct kicked into high gear. While she might ignore a veiled threat against herself, she couldn’t leave Frankie’s safety to chance. Her daughter had worked tirelessly to triumph over a devastating physical injury and subsequent emotional turmoil. She wouldn’t let any vicious stunt ruin things now.

Determination beating urgently in her veins, Sophia packed her overnight bag. She considered changing clothes, but only switched from her heels to her flats. Her lightweight black sweater and slacks were easy to move in and the closest things to camouflage in her wardrobe. Whoever was waiting for her at Parkhurst, she had to go.

Nothing and no one would prevent her from keeping Frankie safe and her future secure.

Chapter Two

Sophia sent her daughter a quick text message while she waited for the valet to bring her rental car from the hotel parking garage. She breathed a sigh of relief at the quick, normal reply. She was sure this meeting was bogus and equally sure she couldn’t let it slide. Though she might be heading into the unknown alone, she intended to leave a trail of bread crumbs in case things went wrong. A lesson she’d learned from her husband—anticipate the best while creating a strategy to fend off the worst.

When the car arrived, she loaded her suitcase into the backseat and kept her purse up front. She left her cell phone on and synced it to the car’s system. When the navigation software had a route ready for her, she pulled away from the hotel.

Frank wouldn’t be there—couldn’t possibly be there—but she had yet to come up with a plausible reason why anyone would impersonate him to get her attention.

Darkness fell as she made her way along historic Route 66 and headlights winked on under the purpling sky in her rearview mirror. Having memorized the brief note, she let the cadence of the words play through her mind over and over. Rubbing a pressure point on her earlobe, she blinked back a sudden rush of tears.

She’d thought the well had run dry months ago. Those early days after Frank killed himself had been wave after wave of sobbing, until she thought she’d never breathe properly again. Throughout their marriage she’d been alone frequently, always with the confident knowledge that she’d see him again. While their daughter bitterly accused her of moving on too quickly in establishing the security business, the harsh, lonely truth of how much she missed Frank had thankfully been buried under a mountain of new career distractions.

A car rushed up behind her and passed her in a blur. She glanced down, confirming she was driving the speed limit, and forgot the other car as it surged into the distance. She had more important things to consider. Who would be waiting for her at Parkhurst and why? How would she handle the encounter?

Maybe she should call Frankie and put her on alert. You could be in danger wasn’t suitable for a text message. Sophia checked the clock. She could pull over and snap a picture of the notes with her phone and still arrive on time for the meeting.

That sort of move would only send her daughter and, by extension, the upper management of Leo Solutions into a tailspin of worry for Frankie and Sophia. Better to send an update when she had some facts about the situation rather than encourage useless conjecture that might stir up more trouble. Maintaining a good reputation within the industry of security services meant mitigating bad press.

The computerized voice of the navigation system announced the approaching exit number and instructions, and Sophia stayed in the right lane for the exit. As the voice related the next direction and turn, she continued around the curve of the ramp, merging onto the frontage road. She glanced ahead, noting the absolute darkness surrounding her destination. The Reserve Center would be long closed and the protected forest wouldn’t be lit, either. Whoever had brought her here would have to speak to her through the car window. She had no intention of getting out and making herself an easier target.

A screech and scream of tires against the pavement brought her attention back to the road immediately. A car in front of her squealed to an abrupt stop. She checked her mirrors, her options limited by the traffic in the other lane, and jerked the wheel. She swerved right onto the rough shoulder so she wouldn’t plow into the car. At nearly fifty miles per hour, her tires growled over the rumble strip cut into the pavement. She missed the stopped car by mere inches and braked hard, desperate to stop safely on the shoulder and catch her breath.

The driver in the stopped car suddenly gunned the engine and swerved to the shoulder, pushing his fender into her car. What the hell?

She couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows, but there was no way he hadn’t seen her car. Dumbfounded, she swore again as she urged her car forward to escape. It didn’t work. She braked, hoping he’d drive by. No such luck. Metal scraped and she was caught, helpless, as the other car forced hers off the road and down into the tree-lined ditch.

As her car slid down the slope, the other driver left her. Sophia struggled to get her car level and back up to the safety of the roadway. With the car off balance, the rear end fishtailed as her tires lost traction in the longer grass. She tried turning one way, then the other, only to find a loose bit of terrain that sent her car sliding farther into a ditch she hadn’t seen. The seat belt grabbed at her, holding her tight until the car finally slid to a stop.

Thankfully the air bag didn’t deploy. The navigation system warned she was going the wrong way. With shaking hands she silenced the automated voice grating out route corrections. Her headlights were swallowed by the ditch while the lights of other vehicles cut through the darkness on the highway above.

She twisted in the seat, looking for any sign of the other car. Apparently, it was long gone. Furious, she unfastened her seat belt and leaned over to scoop up her phone and purse from the passenger-side floorboard.

Suddenly the passenger door opened and the bright beam of a flashlight made her wince and shy away. “Hurry, Sophie.” A hand stretched out to her from the other side of that glaring light.

The voice... Impossible. Sophie? Only Frank had ever gotten away with calling her Sophie.

She froze, too startled to move or reply. Maybe she’d hit her head. Maybe she’d been killed and didn’t realize it yet.

“Move it!” The sharp command left no room for debate. “We have to get out of here right now.”

The urgency in his voice seemed at odds with what must be a hallucination. If, somewhere deep in her subconscious, she hoped for help from her dead husband, wouldn’t he be as calm as he’d been through every stress during their life together?

“Snap out of it.” He tugged on her free hand. “Or they’ll kill us both.”

She couldn’t see his face, though his touch felt familiar. “You’re already dead,” she whispered.

“Not anymore,” he said, his tone gentling.

First the notes, now this...

What was going on? A terrible hoax was the only explanation. Who would do such a thing? “Go away.” She resisted the warmth in his voice. The sense of awareness was a figment of her imagination. “Go away!” Panic swelled inside, expanding outward until she thought her skin would shred from the pressure. “Leave me alone!”

Engines roared closer and faded away, cars of all sizes going on about their business as if reality hadn’t spun her world out of control. She snatched up her purse and reached to open her door.

It was jammed. Of course it was jammed; the other car had damaged the driver’s side of her car.

“This way. Now!” The man who couldn’t be her husband swore as she continued to fight with the door that wouldn’t budge.

“That’s enough.” The flashlight went out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her across the seats and out of the car.

The crush of his fingers burned her skin with undeniable familiarity. She told herself to fight him, told herself she was delusional, and still her body refused to resist.

When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled a bit, whether a result of the shock, the panic or the uneven ground, she couldn’t be sure. Probably all of the above. Her determined rescuer steadied her body with his, and in the shadows she recognized the shape and scent of the man who’d been her partner in life for three decades. Impossible...

“Frank?” In the darkness it was hard to tell. Maybe her vision had been compromised along with her common sense. “How?”

“I’ll explain everything in a minute. Can you walk?”

“Of course.” Offended, she took a step as he did, then stopped short. “My suitcase!” Her computer was in there; she wouldn’t leave it behind. “It’s in the back.”

“At least you came prepared to run.” He sounded relieved as he returned to pull her suitcase out of the backseat. “Tell me you didn’t check out of the hotel.”

She hadn’t, though she refused to volunteer anything. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“True enough.”

She struggled to keep up with his longer stride even in her flats. Just like old times, she thought. At just over six foot he was eight inches taller than her, and those inches seemed to all be in his legs. Where were they going? Away from her car...back the way she’d come, she realized. The headlights of a car in the distance allowed her to make out a vehicle waiting in the ditch a few yards away. Black. SUV.

He opened the passenger-side door for her, the way he’d done at every opportunity since their first date. Her stomach churned as her heart floated on a silly, girlish burst of hope. Could this really be Frank, alive and apparently well? She squashed the fluttery sensations. If it was, her husband owed her a great many answers. “Where are you taking me?”

“Does it matter as long as you survive?”

“It might,” she replied. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“One of the many things I love about you.”

Though he’d surely meant it as a comfort, his use of the present tense deflated her hopes and sent them crashing in an unwelcome thud in her chest. It couldn’t be true. If he still loved her, why had he let her suffer thinking he was dead? “The rental agreement is in the car,” she remembered, too late.

The SUV bumped and lurched along the ditch until he found enough of a rut to get them back up to the road. “Sophie, they know you were driving the car. You were run off the road because they were following your movements. They’ve targeted you.”

She studied what she could see of his hard profile, finally registering his all-black attire. In the dark sweater, cargo pants and matte jump boots, he’d dressed for an operation rather than a reunion. She suppressed the chill of concern about what he’d gotten himself tangled up in. “Who is ‘they’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then start talking.” How could this be happening?

“As soon as we’re safely out of here. The story I have to tell you is too important to be interrupted.”

“Convenient.” She crossed her arms. “You invite me to a conversation and then you won’t talk.”

“It’s better if you hear none of it rather than only some of it,” he insisted. “Keep an eye out for anyone on our tail.”

“Fine.” She wanted to ignore him and the outrageous situation, but she couldn’t afford such a childish indulgence. “At least tell me how you faked your death.”

“Soon, I promise.”

Anger surged through her, fueled by the adrenaline of sliding off the road into increasingly impossible circumstances. “Tell me now or take me back to the hotel.”

“If I take you back to the hotel, they’ll kill you tonight,” he claimed. “And Frankie tomorrow.”

That got her attention and put her focus back on point. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, her fingers brushing, in the process, the notes he’d written. Goose bumps surged up and down her arms. “I’m calling Victoria. She’ll send someone to pick us up.”

He shook his head. “No. Turn it off. Please,” he added, softening the order to a request. “There’s no such thing as safe if they can track you.”

She’d deactivated the GPS signal, but he didn’t need to know that. Until she could trust him, she wouldn’t give him any more advantages. Let him worry that she could turn on her phone at any time and get help immediately. “Give me a good reason to trust anything coming out of your mouth.”

“I’m your husband,” he stated. “You’ve always been my top priority.”

She laughed. “I might believe such a statement if you were still officially alive.” Headlights flashed in the side mirror, and her heart rate kicked up. She hoped it was just a speeder and not more trouble.

“Then how about this?” He spared her a quick glance. “I’m the only living person who understands what we’re up against.”

The “we’re” stood out to her, a beacon slicing through the fog of his words. Reluctantly, she cooperated, turning off her phone and dropping it into her purse again.

“You’re angry.” He checked his mirrors. “You should be. And I’m more sorry than any words can accurately convey.”

“That sounds like a cop-out.” She ignored the little voice in her head that wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Faking a suicide fell into the category of drastic measures. Frank wasn’t the sort to take such a step without good cause. She fisted her hands in her lap, her fingernails digging into her palms. If she left her hands loose, she would no doubt reach out to him just to see if he was real.

“At the time, it was necessary,” he said as if he knew what she was thinking. “I knew you’d be okay, better off without me dragging you down.”

What did that mean? She heard the bitterness underscoring his words. If she was so much better off, why storm back into her life? Why were she and Frankie in danger? “Being a widow hasn’t been peaches and cream, Frank.” Her emotions leaped wildly with every heartbeat, unable to settle between joy that he was alive and outrage that he’d chosen a fake death rather than trust her with his secrets. How dare he!

“Yeah, well, being dead isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either.”

“You’ve put Frankie and me through terrible heartache. She needed you.” I needed you. She kept the admission to herself, unwilling to let him have that much of her again. Not before she understood how this had happened.

“You both need me right now.” He sighed and in the light of oncoming headlights she caught the tic in his jaw.

“Arrogant as ever.” She couldn’t resist baiting him. That supreme confidence had been simultaneously one of his most attractive and most frustrating traits when they were young and eager to get out and conquer the world. Together. So much for that philosophy serving as the cornerstone of their marriage and family.

False or not, death had parted them, and he’d left her alone to find her own way through the consequences of his mistakes. “You know I can keep a secret,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “You had no right to keep the truth from me.”

“I know.” He stretched a hand toward her as he used to do on road trips. “I’m so sorry, dolcezza.”

She didn’t take that hand, though refusing it cost her. She wanted to touch him so badly. “You’re going to tell me the whole story.” He’d never been a fan of her using an inflection that carried the same gravity and certainty of his general’s tone of command, but if any situation required it, this was the one.

“I am,” he replied, with both hands on the steering wheel once more. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I already don’t like it, Frank.”

He’d saved her life tonight. In theory, anyway. For all she knew, he’d hired the driver to run her off the road so he could look like a hero. She gave herself a mental shake. Regardless of circumstances, she couldn’t believe he would willfully risk her safety under any circumstances.

“Give me one thing,” she said. “One detail to go on, or I will call Victoria and Frankie and tell them you’ve kidnapped me.”

He muttered an oath, knowing she would follow through. Between the Colby Agency and Leo Solutions, Frank wouldn’t have anywhere to hide if they knew he was alive.

“The man following you was one of the top snipers in the Afghanistan military. One word from his boss and your life is over.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why?” Who would make her a target?

“That’s one detail. I swear to you, as soon as I’m sure we’re out of harm’s way, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Harm’s way or not, you’ll tell me everything tonight.” He wasn’t the only one who could issue orders.

With a short nod, he rolled his broad shoulders, shifting in the seat as he followed the signs toward Chicago Midway International Airport.

She remembered the feel of those shoulders under her hands after a tough day at work when she’d help him work out the kinks...or late at night in the heat of passion. Oh, how she wanted to trust him, to be sure she could trust him. It scared her—more than being run off the road—just how much she wanted to believe in Frank Leone again.

Chapter Three

When Frank was convinced they hadn’t been followed, he decided on a mid-priced hotel near the airport. If they didn’t take cash, he had a credit card that matched his false ID. Although Sophia probably wouldn’t have complained about the dirt-cheap place where he’d been staying, he didn’t want to risk taking her there. If the enemy was this close, anything could happen.

Besides, he couldn’t imagine the woman he loved so dearly, with her timeless sense of style, in that flea-bitten decor. The discussion ahead of him would be difficult enough without any guilt over the accommodations. He was distracted plenty by her amazing body. He’d missed her so much. She deserved the best life could offer. Whether she wanted to accept protection from him right now or not, he had to make sure she stayed safe.

Knowing his wife, he suspected their marriage was beyond salvaging. He’d never win back her trust—not in the ways that mattered most. Over three decades ago he’d marveled that the smartest, prettiest girl in the world had fallen in love with him and stuck by him through an army career that carried them around the globe. There had never been any real secrets between them until those last two years. This entire mess rested on his shoulders. All of it was his fault.

No avoiding the hard reality of truth. He could offer explanations and apologies—and he would—even knowing it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. He’d started this journey with the best of intentions and it had backfired completely. His mistakes had already cost him the love of his life; he’d never forgive himself if his mistakes got her and their daughter hurt or killed.

Two years ago, she’d sensed the distance he had created to shelter her. Worse, he’d sensed her doubts. That unexpected result had hurt him the most. The wariness he’d seen in her eyes during their last visit, after the guilty verdict had been announced, had plagued him through every lonely day since he’d disappeared.

He parked at the back of the building and came around to open her door, taking her suitcase as she exited the SUV. Finally, he indulged himself with an up-close study of her. Sophia created a fashion statement in any circumstance. Her black sweater and perfectly tailored slacks graced her curves. The long necklace she wore shimmered against the black and he noticed she’d changed from the heels she’d worn to dinner to sleek flats. His arms ached to gather her into a hug, to hold her close and never let go. Without the heels, the top of her head would tuck perfectly under his chin. Despite the memories of how comforting that embrace would be, he managed to keep his distance.

When they were safe behind the locked door of the rented room, he breathed a little easier. If they were lucky, they would survive the night and he could get her on a plane to the tropics tomorrow. He wanted her far away from the inevitable conflict on the horizon.

He dropped her suitcase on the bed, ignoring that potential minefield, while she strolled on by and pulled a chair away from the table. He heard her fidgeting a bit, settling in while she waited for him to explain himself. He didn’t have to look to know she had her right leg crossed over her left, her hands linked in her lap.

Where to begin? He studied his hands, not quite ready to face her. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Her voice was cool, aloof, and he could feel her big brown eyes studying him. He sighed. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to his wife. On some level he believed she might understand. Too bad that level was smothered by guilt.

“Just get on with it,” she urged in the unflappable tone that had guided professional and family meetings with equal efficiency. “I want the truth. The whole truth.” She shook her head, the one visible concession to her anger and frustration. “Some sort of reasonable explanation for what you’ve done to us.”

He closed his eyes a moment, pushing a hand through hair that felt too long since he’d abandoned the shorter army regulation cut. “I doubt much of what I’m about to say will sound reasonable.”

The silence stretched between them like a high wire over the Grand Canyon, and he was walking without a net. There’d been no training or experience to prepare him for this crisis. “I did what I believed was necessary to protect you and Frankie.” He’d allowed his professional life to destroy his family. No excuses would suffice and none of the words in his mind felt adequate to the task. On a deep breath, he perched on the side of the bed closer to her chair. “It started before we moved to Washington,” he began, watching the awareness come into her lovely eyes. “Keeping you out of it was essential.”

“Because you planned to become a traitor?”

“Never.” He winced. “Though I knew it was possible my actions would look that way.”

She caught her full lower lip between her teeth. “Your daughter never believed you were capable of treason,” she said. “Unfortunately, by that time, I didn’t share her confidence.”

He deserved that for how poorly he’d handled the situation. “I wanted to explain, to reassure you.” The risks had been too great. Any out-of-character reaction from Sophia would have tipped off the criminals the army had been trying to root out. “You couldn’t have helped me. I looked at it from every angle. If I’d told you anything at all, if you’d reacted too much or not enough, if you’d changed your analysis or assessment, it would’ve gotten all three of us killed.”

“What happened?” She hurled the words at him. “Names and dates, Frank.” She leaned forward, pinned him with those wary eyes. “Give me a clear and accurate picture. Did you know Frankie believed I willfully helped convict you?”

“No!” He pushed to his feet, striding as far from her as the room allowed. He hadn’t understood why his daughter had wound up working in Savannah when Sophia launched the new business in Seattle, but he couldn’t risk getting close enough to either of them to find out. “How could she believe such a thing?”

“You can ask her yourself. Now keep talking,” she said. “Hold back now and I’ll walk right out that door and in my heart you’ll stay dead forever.”

Sophia didn’t make idle threats. If she walked out of this room without the details, without his protection, she’d be dead within the week. Frankie, too. “It’s too dangerous. Please, believe that if nothing else.”

She drummed her fingertips impatiently on her knee.

He crossed the room again, forcing himself to sit down at the table. He could slow down and do this right. “First, I’m not a traitor.” He stopped right there as the emotion choked him. He didn’t know quite how to beg her forgiveness, to uproot the terrible seeds of doubts he’d planted. “The Army Criminal Investigations Command approached me just over two years ago.” Though he knew all deals were off, his voice cracked on exposing her to the black stain that had ended his career. “Before that last deployment. Equipment had gone missing. Locals claimed army personnel were helping move drug shipments. High-value targets disappeared without a trace. While that sounds logical with the honeycomb of hideouts in Afghanistan, no rumors or sightings were getting out. CID asked me to go undercover and appear amenable to cooperating with one particular drug lord. I did what was required of me, as always.”

She gasped, her eyes wide and sad. “The CID didn’t back you up?”

“That was before the treason charge.” He knew she was thinking about the lives lost on that last busted mission. “Cooperating with the drug lord was a test to earn the trust of the criminals CID wanted to net. What I didn’t realize at the time was that by passing that test I put you and Frankie in danger.” He hitched his shoulders against the impossible burden. “Smoothing the way for that drug shipment earned me a rare invitation to Hellfire, an elite circle of retired military personnel that CID had been trying to dismantle for more than five years.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “They named themselves after a missile?”

He nodded. “They’re cocky. Considering what they’ve gotten away with and how they’ve managed to line their pockets, they’ve earned the moniker. As a general willing to cross the line for personal gain, I was a shoo-in. Once I was in, my real goal was to identify the Hellfire leadership and gather evidence against them.”

“Which meant working with them in the short-term,” she said quietly.

“Yes.” He swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat. Good men had died for bad reasons that day. Undercover or not, he’d been ready to serve time as a penance. “And it eventually led to the treason charge.” He cracked his knuckles. “There was a bank account in the Caymans that would’ve made you blush.” His stilted laughter didn’t hold any humor. “Doing bad things for the right reasons is no excuse. I should’ve found another way.”

The CID special agent running his part of the operation assured him there hadn’t been another way, but he would carry those terrible memories forever. On his feet again, Frank paced to the door and back, his mind lost in that cursed patch of dirt and the acrid scents of burning fuel and explosives roiling through the desert air.

With both hands fisting helplessly at his sides, he forced himself to tell her the rest. “We figured out after that fiasco, I wasn’t the only CID recruit. Another team was tracking the drug shipment. Somehow Hellfire learned the shipment would be seized and used the opportunity to blame it on me.”

“Moving illegal drugs is a crime, yes. That doesn’t explain the treason charge.”

He rubbed one thumb hard into the palm of his other hand. “Hellfire scrubbed the op rather than risk exposure. As Hellfire’s newest member, I took the rap for the whole deal, letting the real traitors get away clean, their drug money gushing again like crude oil from a new well less than a week later.”

“Frank, if what you say is true, it wasn’t your fault.”

Of course it was. He looked down to find she’d moved too close, her hands holding his. He wasn’t worthy of her sympathy. Reluctantly, he shifted out of her reach. “The treason charge was manufactured just to ruin me, in case I was inclined to flip on Hellfire.”

“I didn’t want to believe you’d sold information about troop movements and weapons in Kabul, but who else could have leaked those facts?”

Only another general and his cronies, Frank kept to himself. As an analyst, she would’ve assessed and reported on the intel provided. That was the trouble. With Hellfire railroading him and manipulating the intel, the only possible verdict was guilty.

“I had to do something. Behind bars, I’d never get to the bottom of this, if they even let me live. My CID contact, Special Agent J.D. Torres, came to see me after the verdict and we devised a plan to fake my death. Once I escaped, I knew enough to keep gathering evidence against them without worrying that they’d go after my family.”

“And yet here we are, almost a year later.” She sank back into the chair.

“Yes.” His worst nightmare coming true in full color and in real time. “Based on what I learned during my brief time within Hellfire, I’ve been piecing parts of the puzzle together. I’ve learned how the drugs come into the country and I know the top three players in the group. I even managed to stop a drug shipment last month.”

“That’s progress, I guess. What did Torres have to say?”

He recognized that look. She was shifting gears, playing devil’s advocate. He was about to preempt that move. “Torres was the only person who knew about me. I reached out to him to turn in my latest report and let him know where I stashed Hellfire’s drugs for the CID to clean up. He didn’t respond. I discovered he died in a single-car wreck last month. He’d gone missing more than forty-eight hours before police found the car torched, just off his normal route to and from work. Taking that shipment managed to get another man killed and put you and Frankie in the crosshairs.”

“How can they possibly know you were responsible?”

“Process of elimination,” he replied. “I’m the only one who understands how the money and drugs move through their sick, private retirement fund. I can’t be sure when they learned I’m alive. They must have tortured Torres to discover how we stayed in contact.”

“They threatened Frankie and me to draw you out?” She closed her eyes, her fingers sliding the pendant of her necklace along the chain. “How did they tell you?”

“It was a private message on a social media account. They sent me a picture of you, then followed that with the kill order.” When she let loose a string of Italian curses for Hellfire, he couldn’t have agreed more. “I can’t quit now. If I don’t stop them, who knows how many more people will get hurt or die while they get richer?”

Her gaze was distant, thoughtful, as she resumed her place at the very edge of her chair. “I felt someone watching me in Chicago.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I’ve been shadowing the man they put on you since you arrived this morning. I had to move fast before the sniper could set up the shot.”

“So you pulled me out of harm’s way.”

“It almost worked perfectly.” His heart had stopped when they’d forced her off the road. “I’m not sure why they ran you off the road, unless they wanted your death to look like an accident.”

“What about Frankie?”

The edge of panic in her voice slid as deep as a blade between his ribs. “I’m hoping this fiancé of hers can watch her back, but the sooner I wrap this up, the better for everyone.” Once he eliminated Hellfire and knew his girls were safe, he could think about what to do with the rest of his lonely life.

Sophia nodded, her face pinched as she laced her fingers together in her lap. There had been a time when they’d faced bad news hand in hand. He never should have kept any of this from her. “Is he a good man?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, blinking as she tried to put his question into the proper context. “Aidan? He’s the best. Did you know he was a Colby investigator?”

“Yes. I did a background search on him.” While Frank respected Victoria Colby-Camp and her agency, this was his baby girl’s life on the line. “I sent him a death threat today.”

“You did what?”

“Well, I sent it to him, but it was aimed specifically at Frankie,” he clarified, realizing too late he’d only made things worse. “I wanted them on alert. I couldn’t blurt out what was really going on. I needed them to react quickly, not ask questions.”

“Oh, Lord.” Her expressive eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Here I was, trying to figure out how to clue her in that you’re alive and that we might need her help.”

“We can’t do that. We can’t tell her anything.” Panic snapped and clawed at his heart. “The more she knows about me, the more danger she’s in.”

Sophia’s sound of frustration mimicked an unhappy grizzly bear. “If I don’t kill you before this is over, she will. Trust me on that.”

“I deserve it,” he said through another wave of anguish. “But if I don’t stop them—”

She held up a hand. “I can fill in the blank.” She massaged the lobes of her ears around her earrings. “The treason charge,” she began. “Did you knowingly send that team in Kabul to their deaths?”

That she could even think it of him stopped his heart more effectively than the drug he’d used to fake his death. Still, in light of everything, it was a fair question. “I did not.” It had been such a sharp edge he’d been walking and he thought he’d done everything possible to make sure only he would or could be injured. A tactic that left him with no allies when the plan backfired. He’d been too new, hadn’t known the real players within Hellfire or the full measure of their greed.

Now he did, and he needed to give his wife and daughter the best protection. “I know you don’t owe me anything, dolcezza. Not your understanding and certainly not your forgiveness.”

“Be quiet. I’m thinking of our next step.”

“Our?” he echoed, staring at her. “No way.”

“You need me,” she countered.

He did need her. Desperately. When this was over, maybe they could talk about just how badly he needed her. Assuming he lived through the fight Hellfire would present. “What I need most is to know you’re tucked away safely out of Hellfire’s reach.”

“Is there such a place?”

He didn’t say yes fast enough.

“Then we’ll do this together,” she declared. She stood, the ghost of a smile tipping her lush mouth.

“Absolutely not,” he said. He wanted to keep her as far from the chaos as possible. He’d often fantasized about a reunion when the coast was clear. Coming home to Sophia had always been the best part of fulfilling his military responsibilities. Someday this mess with Hellfire would be behind them and, if she gave him a chance, he’d never leave her again.

“Look where you’ve wound up working alone!” She switched to Italian, indulging in a fiery rant that called into question his intelligence and sanity. “I have contacts and resources. You need my help.”

“You think the two of us can do what the CID couldn’t?”

“Yes.” Her eyes glittered, daring him to contradict her. “As a team,” she said pointedly. “We were unstoppable. They have regulations and systems. We have a dead man with good intel and a reputable woman with excellent connections.”

He knew that look. In full protective mode, she wouldn’t back down, even if it was for her own good. He reconsidered his strategy. “Since we’re in Chicago,” he said, “why don’t we ask if you can work your connections from Victoria’s offices?” The Colby Agency could keep Sophia safe while he went after Hellfire personally.

“Just me?” she asked too sweetly.

Naturally she saw straight through him. “Standard protocol,” he said, defending the suggestion. “You in the office, me in the field.”

She tossed her head. “I will not let you out of my sight. Our daughter would never forgive me if something happened to you...again.”

“She already thinks I’m dead. I refuse to take the chance of making her an orphan for real. I don’t want her to know anything until this is done.”

She pinned him with a wicked glare. “Were you this melodramatic during official briefings?”

“The lives of my wife and daughter weren’t on the line in my official briefings,” he said, thoroughly exasperated with her insurmountable stubborn streak. “Haven’t you been listening to me?” He’d spent more than twenty years commanding troops, so how was it he had so much trouble with this one woman?

“I have been listening very closely. The only real point you’ve made is that you need my help.”

He scrubbed at the back of his neck. How could he have believed she would listen to reason? He needed help, yes, and he’d count her an excellent ally—from the safety of an office surrounded by armed experts. Putting her in the line of fire was taking an unforgivable chance. Not to mention how keeping her close would be torture. Already her familiar lily-and-sandalwood fragrance seeped into his system, giving him more comfort than he deserved. “You can help me—from a safe distance.”

“Frank, be reasonable. You need someone at your back.”

“Victoria would agree with me,” he countered. As arguments went, it was too weak and they both knew it.

Her gaze sharpened. Her keen mind was working through his protests to the crux of the problem. “You’re holding back a significant factor here. Who is it, Frank? Who’s at the top of Hellfire?”

Furious at himself more than anyone at how he’d been fooled and used, he studied the pattern in the carpeting. He met her gaze, at last. “Kelly Halloran is the top man.”

The blood drained from her face, turning her vibrant golden skin to ash. “Sit down,” he said, moving to catch her. She slumped to the edge of the couch, her shoulders hunching as if she could physically block the news. He understood her reaction.

“Why?” she whispered. She sucked in a breath, eased away from him and tried again. “We’ve known him forever. We know his children. His wife and I were once close friends.” She rubbed her hand over her heart. “They were at our wedding. They brought me flowers when Frankie was born. Our kids played together. He held me when I learned you were...dead.”

All the more reason Frank wanted to see that bastard go down. The few inches of space her retreat created left an icy chill on his skin. “This isn’t a quick, fly-by-night operation. It’s been developing for a long time. So far I haven’t figured out what pushed Halloran over the edge.”

She bit her lip. “You believe he’d willfully hurt our daughter?”

Frank nodded. “The man he is today? Yes. He’d give that order.” He waited for it to dawn on Sophia that their old friend had issued her death order earlier today.

“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I could be sick.”

He’d felt the same way. “Please don’t ask me to make it easier on him by letting you come with me. This is guaranteed to turn ugly, fast.”

“It’s already ugly,” she said, her voice tight. “Kelly Halloran ordered my execution to scare you into silence,” she mused. “The bastard.” When she met his gaze, her eyes were clear, her determination shining. “You can’t expect me to sit back and watch him run you in circles.”

“If that’s your idea of encouragement, I don’t need any more,” he said.

She spread her palms across her knees. “Talk me through everything you have so far and then I’ll decide if I can best help from a safe distance or right beside you.”

“Now you’re in charge?” He wanted to leap on the idea of having an ally, of having her beside him again. If only they weren’t going up against a man who knew them both all too well.

“One of us should be.” Standing, she crossed the room to her suitcase, pulling out her laptop. “Come on. Catch me up.” She rolled her hand, urging him to fill her in while she plugged in the computer.

He marveled at her resilience. He always had. They’d said “for better or worse” on their wedding day and lived it every day since. Until he’d shut her out. She made a good point. So far, going solo had only netted him one easily replaced shipment of drugs. Hardly enough to snare Halloran or put an end to a system as established as Hellfire.

“All right,” he said at last. “But I won’t be convinced that you should be doing any fieldwork.”

Her mouth curved in a smirk. “You will be.”

Somehow he was afraid she could be right.

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