Zone of Action (In the Zone) Read online

  “The guy was cra-cra. Why would he think you’d understand the douche? Because you slept with him?” Elena moved to the rear door, checking to make sure it was locked. Audrey’s heart cracked. For all her friend’s bluster, she really cared about Audrey. As Audrey did for her. They’d both had banner years, emotionally and relationship-wise. She wished she could spare her friend now.

  “It’s okay, Leni. You know I can take care of myself. Brett would be stupid to come here, especially after what he said in court. But, just the same, I think you should take some days off. Just until Special Agent Hottie recaptures him.” She couldn’t help but smile as she used Elena’s name for the handsome CID agent.

  “Like hell I will. I’ve got your back, sister. Don’t try to push me away. Why don’t we lock up and walk out together?”

  Audrey accepted the olive branch, and together they put away what they’d been working on. After turning off the lights, they exited the front door. While Elena locked up, Audrey’s gaze swept right and left, assessing the evening shadows as possible hiding places. Everything seemed quiet on the street, with only a few cars passing. None of them contained Brett.

  She moved to stand beside Elena’s Toyota, scoping the inside of the car for any lurkers. They both parked in front of the shop, though a little farther down to provide room for customers.

  Evening was near. Clouds from the coastal hills were spreading inland, and a light breeze stirred Audrey’s hair. She took a deep breath. Nothing bad ever happened in Abbottsville. She’d moved here because of its serenity. She’d kill Brett with her bare hands if he tainted her new home with his presence. The irony of her thoughts wasn’t lost on her.

  “Text me when you get inside your house, Leni. I don’t think Brett would bother with you, but I don’t put anything past him. Never underestimate the enemy.” He used to say that right before every excursion into the city. Using Brett’s words about him gave Audrey a perverse sense of rightness.

  Elena followed a passing car with her eyes before looking at Audrey and shrugging. “I’ll take precautions, but don’t think I won’t come to work. If I stay home, I’ll be forced to clean my apartment, and like hell if that’s happening.” She opened the driver’s door while Audrey shot her a grin.

  “Text me, sister. I wanna know you’re safe, too.”

  Audrey nodded and got in her own car, a second-hand SUV that allowed her to lower the seats when she needed to do a delivery. High-style transportation had never been high on her must-haves. As long as a vehicle was dependable, she was content.

  She watched Elena pull out and make a U-turn before heading home herself. She fought the urge to follow her friend, just to make sure she got home safe. Elena wouldn’t welcome the attention. Both of them were too independent for their own good.

  As she drove the mile or so to her house, she considered what the CID agent had told her. Why had Brett escaped, if not to avoid incarceration? He’d been angry when she reported him. That was to be expected. Could he be coming back for her? It was a possibility she’d never considered. He was locked up, after all. But now he wasn’t.

  Her stomach muscles clenched as she turned on to her street. Tall pines lined one side of the road, across from two-story walkups that resembled the Victorian homes in San Francisco. It was a haven she hoped like hell Brett wasn’t going to defile.

  She had to admit he’d acted unhinged enough that he might waste his time on her. She’d foiled his lucrative setup, and his past behavior showed he liked to get even. That’s what the special agent thought, at least. From what he’d said, Brett had escaped because he had a plan in motion. Was he the instigator, or was he working for someone? And how did getting revenge on her fit in?

  She came to a stop in front of her walkup. Turning off the engine, she texted Elena that she was home. Elena was, too. Audrey sat for a moment. The whole reason she’d changed careers was to find a peace she’d never experienced before. But her patriotic move hadn’t ended her inner upheaval. Instead, Brett’s escape, and the CID agent’s appearance at her store, threatened to embroil her in profiling one more time. It took all her strength to relax her fisted hands.

  She’d never understood why Brett had sold troop intel. He’d ate, slept, and worked at his job. Downtime hadn’t been in his vocabulary. He knew what was going on in their part of the world before it happened.

  She’d wanted to emulate him when she worked for him. He could figure out when something was going down better than anyone and make a suitable plan of attack. Between her people knowledge and his capabilities, they’d been unstoppable. Until she’d broken up their pairing by not reenlisting.

  Had that been the catalyst, her leaving the team? Had he moved into murky waters after her departure? How long would he have sold off his fellow soldiers if she hadn’t overheard him? How could he have done it in the first place?

  Audrey got out of the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. After locking it, she glanced at the pine trees across the street from her line of homes. She’d always liked the view from her place, but now it showed how isolated she was on this side of town. Abbottsville had grown in the opposite direction, which had been fine until her cra-cra ex-boyfriend decided to spring himself.

  After taking one more look up and down the street, she started up the ten steps to her townhome just as another gust of wind kicked up. Mrs. Leiberman’s windchimes next door tinkled melodiously, but a clanking sound on Audrey’s porch caused her to pause.

  It was out of place. She didn’t own any windchimes. Except for a few hanging flowerpots, her porch was devoid of anything that could rattle. The noise came to her ears again.

  She made it to the top step. Her attention zeroed in on what was making the rattling noise, and her breath caught in her throat. A frisson of dread shivered down her spine. She swallowed instant bile. Her feet dragged her toward the front door and the item dangling from the knob. The item that had no business being there.

  It was a set of handcuffs.

  She continued to stare at the cuffs, her breath ragged in her ears. The restraints hanging here could only mean one thing: Brett was making good on his courtroom threat. He’d been here. At her house. While she’d been gone. Had he gotten inside?

  She clenched her teeth, glancing at the roof of her porch. Was he here now, watching her through the front curtains? Could he be lying in wait behind the door? That didn’t make sense. If he wanted to ambush her, he wouldn’t warn her with the cuffs. Would he? She couldn’t know for sure. She didn’t know what he was capable of.

  Every nerve ending told her to jump into her SUV, lock its doors, and call 911. She had a gun in her house, but that didn’t do diddly-squat for her out here. Every nerve in her body tingled. Adrenaline surged. It was like being caught in a firefight, not knowing where the next attack would come from.

  The roar of an approaching vehicle at high speed shattered her thoughts like M4 rounds. She dropped to a crouch, scrambling behind the porch rail and curling her body into as small a mass as possible. Had she ducked out of sight before the driver saw her? Was it Brett, unhinged and seething with revenge? Did he even now have his sight on her, finger steady on the trigger, breath suspended for an accurate shot?

  A car door slammed. She couldn’t see who it was from this angle behind the rail and bushes. Rapidly advancing footsteps sent her heart into her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. There was nowhere to run. She readied herself for hand-to-hand.

  …

  Well, that sure as hell didn’t go as planned, Cameron thought as he stood outside Audrey’s Abbottsville florist shop. She’d been less receptive than he’d imagined, and what was that all about, anyway?

  He’d read her file. She’d been an exemplary soldier, could’ve gone far if she’d stayed in. She’d reported Brett’s traitorous behavior because it went against her beliefs. She’d said so at the court martial. So why didn’t she w
ant to help now? Was she hiding something?

  Her dossier said she’d been involved in a bus bomb during her tour in Kandahar. Did that figure in her decision to leave the service? He’d read the information on the fly and now couldn’t remember all the details.

  Her reaction today bugged him. He’d bring up her history when he settled down for the night, maybe find a connection to her behavior and her past. And maybe a connection with why it was so important for Brett to hunt her down.

  Casting another frown at the shop he’d just exited, Cam opened his truck’s door just as his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pants pocket. It was Linder.

  “Yes sir?” Cam leaned a forearm on the open driver’s door and looked down the street.

  “There’s been an attack up here, at the Intelligence training facility. My God, four of our soldiers killed. Sniped from long-range.” His voice broke at the end.

  Cam’s blood froze in his veins, while the thoughts in his head raced like a downhill skier.

  “It happened yesterday. No one’s taken credit for the attack yet. Intel is all over it, but we need to do more.”

  “You don’t think it was Brett, do you, sir? He sold information, but—”

  “To a terror group, Harris! Maybe that’s his job. Hand over the information, and someone else does the dirty work. Holy shit.”

  Cam got into his truck, started the engine, allowing Linder a moment to calm himself. He pulled away from the curb, heading toward his hotel.

  “It was a training maneuver, for hell’s sake. When they didn’t respond over their coms, a search party was dispatched to locate them. They’d veered a little off course, weren’t quite where they should’ve been. Newbies. Too close to off post.”

  “And it gave the shooter an opening,” Cam concluded. He stopped at one of Abbottsville’s few stoplights. He was the only vehicle at the intersection.

  “We have to find the group that’s responsible for this. Even if we capture the shooter, Gates or not, we won’t know who he’s working for. They’ll just dump him and keep systematically attacking. We need Jenkins’s expertise. Have you made contact with her?”

  Cam thought of his brief meeting with Audrey Jenkins. How she’d clammed up, dismissing him like some door-to-door salesman. “Yeah, I have, but she’s not receptive. I’ll have to tread carefully to get her to help because she says that part of her life is over. She’s into flowers now.” He hadn’t meant that last to sound disparaging, but it did.

  The light turned green. He went through the intersection, then pulled to the side to finish the conversation.

  “I don’t care if she’s into reading fortunes, Harris. She’s the best link we have to Gates. She knows him; she worked with him. No one has replaced her yet in the terrorism unit. With this new disaster, we must get proactive. Someone is picking off soldiers, for whatever reason, and I’ll be damned if we lose any more on my watch.

  “Make her see reason, Harris. She has to know something. I’m counting on you. And keep me updated.” The phone went dead.

  Cam wanted to puke. Four of the Army’s finest had been gunned down on a training mission. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. They should be safe on a base. More to the point, why kill soldiers in training? Didn’t it make more sense to take them out when they’re on duty somewhere? Although, killing trainees ensured there wouldn’t be trained soldiers on active duty anytime soon. Could that be the intention? There were more questions than answers, and Cam hated that ratio.

  Sitting back in his seat, he brought up his email, where he’d stored Audrey Jenkins’s home address. Punching it into his phone, he followed the prompts to get to her street. If she wasn’t home, he’d wait until she was. There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to get her to listen to him now. The deaths of four soldiers hung heavy on him.

  He made it to her street quickly, noting with dismay how isolated this stretch of townhouses seemed out here on the edge of town. The towering pines opposite the homes swayed in the evening breeze. He could imagine the sound of the wind soughing through them, the strong scent of pine seeping through open windows. His own home up in Washington state was lined by stately pines. They were part of the appeal of his property.

  However, while he liked the ruralness of Abbottsville, and Audrey’s location specifically, right now it resembled a trap. There were no nosy neighbors to keep tabs on the homes during the day, no busy street with cars buzzing by at regular intervals. Only the immediate residents, sharing walls but not much else.

  Audrey’s house was halfway up the block on the right, according to his navigation. He eyed the Victorian porches, noting the addresses as they whizzed by. A movement at the door of one caught his attention. One second someone was standing at the door, the next they’d ducked into hiding. What the hell? He gunned the engine, roaring up to the curb. If it was Brett, God save him, because he would tear the arms right off that bastard and beat him with them for what had happened to those soldiers, let alone for the toilet tank to his face.

  He threw the truck into park, pulled his weapon from the glovebox, and lunged out the door.

  Chapter Five

  Audrey surged up from her hiding place, making the most of the element of surprise. Her heart pounded in her chest. If she didn’t do this right, she’d be dead. Brett wouldn’t grant her any reprieve. He’d made that clear at his court martial. Thoughts of all she hadn’t accomplished yet in her life spun through her mind like a slide show.

  If she failed, she’d never experience childbirth. She’d never experience loving, or being loved, by a man who thought the world of her. She’d never reach creative fulfillment in her business. She had to succeed now or make the ultimate fail.

  Her thoughts fueled her attack. With her arms upraised and her fingers formed into claws, she rushed her would-be attacker. Getting close enough to jab his eyes out would disable his ability to shoot her at this close range. She roared at him, hoping her crazy yell would set him off balance.

  A strong hand grabbed one of her wrists, twisted her arm behind her, and shoved her down to the porch. She opened her mouth to scream but found herself kissing the white-washed boards, gasping for the air that had rushed out of her lungs from the counterattack. A knee to her back completed her humiliation.

  “Stand down, soldier.”

  She knew that voice. She stopped struggling. It wasn’t Brett’s. Relief that her attacker wasn’t him warred with resentment for being thrown to the ground like a common street thug. By him, the handsome CID agent she’d recently tossed out of her shop.

  She wasn’t given a chance to fume. The hand holding her arm behind her slid around her wrist. In a twisty move that she’d admire later, he pulled her to her feet effortlessly.

  “You’ve gone soft as a civilian, Jenkins.”

  What the hell? Her mouth moved like a fish’s as she tried to formulate a snappy response. Her attack had been soldier-worthy, right up to the point that it wasn’t. She studied his face, with its multicolored bruises, and tried not to notice the long lashes that framed his chocolate eyes, or the firm lips on a mouth that looked made for kissing a woman all over.

  She jerked her thoughts away from that erotic image and blurted, “It looks like you’ve slowed down as well, Special Agent”—she glanced at the nametag on his broad chest—“Harris.” The momentary upward quirk of his lips hinted at a sense of humor.

  “Touché.” The smile disappeared. “Why were you crawling around on the porch?”

  “I wasn’t crawling, Special Agent.” She glanced at the doorknob, where the handcuffs fluttered in a macabre dance on the evening breeze. His gaze followed hers. His eyes narrowed. “Someone put those there,” she said, taking a step toward the door.

  “Don’t touch them.”

  He moved around her, kneeling on one knee in front of the door and fishing his phone from his rear pocket. He snapped
a few photos. She watched, transfixed.

  He put his phone away and took out a couple of crime scene gloves from his navy cargo pants’ pocket. After pulling them on, he gingerly removed the cuffs from the doorknob. Lifting them, he stared at them with an intensity that rivaled a detective’s. Which, she guessed, he was.

  His large hands cradled the cuffs gently, a feat she didn’t think possible after how strongly he’d shoved her to the porch. He looked more capable of tearing tree trunks in two than handling evidence as delicately as he did.

  When he let them slip through his fingers into an evidence bag he pulled from another pocket, the image of his large hand on her head, stroking down her hair and neck, sliding along her back, made her shiver. She snapped her gaze to his, hoping that reading minds wasn’t in his repertoire of skills.

  “Why would he come here? Why would he announce himself?” This wasn’t making sense.

  “It’s a warning.” His lips compressed together. Anger flashed through his eyes. This was personal for him. Of course, she’d make it personal if she’d lost a prisoner. But his interest was more than retaliation. There was a backstory here. Her profiling skills screamed it. And that made her curious. However, she needed to address what he’d said. Time enough to find his and Brett’s connection later.

  “Brett hung those there? To let me know he escaped?” The fear from earlier returned. Her gaze darted up and down the deserted street. They were too exposed out here on the porch. She slipped her hand into her purse to find her keys.

  “Among other things. Can we talk inside?” He felt like a sitting duck out here, too. Was he a mind reader? She was sure as hell in trouble, then, because she couldn’t stop sizing him up, from his big, gentle hands, to his broad chest, to his athletic ass and legs. Elena had been right: damn, but he was fine-looking. Coming to that conclusion in the middle of a possible attack showed just how potent his sex appeal was. Or how long she’d gone without sex.