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Calculated Vendetta
Jodie Bailey
KILLER STORYWhen army journalist Casey Jordan’s attacked, she’s convinced it’s a random mugging—until a killer comes after the military team she’s interviewing. But who’s the real target: Casey or her ex—Staff Sergeant Travis Heath. Despite an attraction that still lingers, Travis had pushed Casey away months ago, convinced military life leaves no room for attachments. But when the attacks grow increasingly personal, Travis begins to question his chosen path. As the targets of a killer’s vendetta, though, it could be too late to make up for lost time…because he and Casey may not have a future to share.
KILLER STORY
When army journalist Casey Jordan’s attacked, she’s convinced it’s a random mugging—until a killer comes after the military team she’s interviewing. But who’s the real target: Casey or her ex—staff sergeant Travis Heath? Despite an attraction that still lingers, Travis pushed Casey away months ago, convinced military life leaves no room for attachments. But when the attacks grow increasingly personal, Travis begins to question his chosen path. As the targets of a killer’s vendetta, though, it could be too late to make up for lost time...because he and Casey may not have a future to share.
Travis couldn’t shake the prickly feeling of being watched.
If he and Casey were still together, he’d have suggested a quick run to the coast, a dinner of sandwiches and soda while they dug their toes in the sand. It was half on his tongue to ask, but probably wasn’t a smart idea.
“You look like you’re plotting something.” Casey had stopped at the edge of the brick sidewalk and was eyeballing him like she really could read his thoughts.
That would be scary.
He looked both ways, waiting for a break in traffic. “Me? Plotting? Not at all.”
An older Nissan 280ZX stopped half a block away and flashed its lights.
Travis and Casey both threw a wave of thanks and stepped into the street, aiming for Travis’s truck on the other side.
A sudden squeal tore the air.
Adrenaline crashed through him in a lightning jolt of pain as the Nissan roared straight for them.
Dear Reader (#u54979d0c-0a00-5ae3-8910-e0c7161b4408),
When I was little, we were vacationing at the beach. My mom found a piece of sea glass. Sand and surf had smoothed the bumps and edges of a broken Coke bottle.
She handed it to me and said, “We’re like this glass. We start out broken from sin. Jesus is like the waves and the sand, making us shiny and beautiful.”
It was a lesson I’ve always remembered. The greatest thing Mom taught me was God is in everything, and He is everywhere. If we wait for Him, He will reveal Himself.
I like to think she learned that from my grandmother, who once called and said, “I was making the bed, and the way the light came through the window and hit the bedspread... I sat down and cried, because I felt how much God loves me.”
Funny thing is, I’ve stood in our kitchen—which used to be hers—as the light fell over the butcher-block island and felt that same thing.
God loves you right where you are. He is a Zephaniah 3:17 God: “The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”
I hope you will take a few minutes alone with Him and let Him tell you how much He loves you!
I also hope you will drop by and say hello over at www.jodiebailey.com (http://www.jodiebailey.com) or at jodie@jodiebailey.com. I’d love to hear how you’ve seen God in the small things, too!
Jodie
JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.
Calculated Vendetta
Jodie Bailey
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.
He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
—1 John 4:18
To Mom, who taught me to see God in all things, big and small. Because of you, I see Him everywhere I go.
Contents
Cover (#uaa0c03c1-a1ec-56c7-8c4e-ad920b5abbb1)
Back Cover Text (#u511dd1a9-e535-5d8a-b892-f9e42ae0b7a8)
Introduction (#uc82fd510-e1e1-5b23-8b59-75bef8b4d318)
About the Author (#uabe38f1e-d1f9-5a03-ab70-1ce6cab19f3d)
Title Page (#ufb6756a8-a769-5ea0-888f-cee58c595d60)
Bible Verse (#u381621ee-69e2-59ed-bb0d-31e091dbe0a2)
Dedication (#u65c964ce-822c-5f03-bd73-38b745c7c0ee)
ONE (#ud77ad523-98e4-5192-9442-4a8934f34c19)
TWO (#uc991430d-e539-5e69-bfbc-e0bacd2fad3d)
THREE (#u83dd5966-e03a-5be9-a163-dd653c9ae38e)
FOUR (#u27bcb41c-8050-5c46-b41d-cd4d5900e6e2)
FIVE (#u71651f26-7123-52ba-bda4-059b3f31064c)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#u830e15d4-f004-5f45-bba3-50023ca4613d)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u54979d0c-0a00-5ae3-8910-e0c7161b4408)
The conversations of the late dinner crowd in the Mexican restaurant hummed around Staff Sergeant Casey Jordan as she loaded one more chip with salsa and promised herself this one—like the eight before it—would be the real “last one.” Probably not, but still... Didn’t she deserve to indulge a little after her dinner companion had excused himself to take his fourth phone call in twenty minutes? Finally, she’d given up and told John Winslow they could reschedule, and he’d taken off for the door after a quick thanks and a wave.
Sure, it wasn’t technically a date, rather an interview for the story she was working on for the Fort Bragg Public Affairs Office, but the diners around them had no idea of that. To them, she’d been royally disrespected.
Reaching for the chip basket, Casey chose a perfect triangle. One more, then she’d throw in the napkin and go home to the cliché of pajamas, ice cream and the hardest sudoku puzzle she could lay her hands on. After her last relationship had spectacularly flamed out, she deserved all the comfort food she could get.
“Casey?” The sound of her name rose above the other noises in the small restaurant. For a second, her hopes rose, but they crashed to the floor just as quickly. The voice was definitely not John’s.
It was her own thoughts come to life in flesh and blood.
She did her best to ignore the call as her stomach tightened around the chips she’d downed. Not now. This was the last thing she needed on a night when it looked as though a date had abandoned her. Way to drive the knife in, making him appear.
Grabbing the backpack that held her laptop, Casey slung it over her shoulder, pretending she hadn’t heard Travis Heath hailing her. It had been three months, and he hadn’t called her once. Let him enjoy the burn of being ignored. She’d rather go home and dig into a pint of Mackinac Island Fudge than make small talk with the guy who’d gotten her hopes up before he ground them into mush under the heel of his combat boot.
Then again, knowing Travis, ignoring him would only make him more persistent. Better to face the past than have it chase her out of the restaurant and become the dinner show for an audience chowing on tacos and chips.
When she stopped near the counter and turned, Travis ran right into her. He grabbed her upper arms to steady both of them, forcing Casey to look at him fully for the first time.
Yep. He was everything she remembered. Tall. Lean but muscular. Blue-eyed under slightly longer-than-regulation dark blond hair. If she glanced around the restaurant now, half the women there would be staring at him. Casey inhaled and tried not to notice he still smelled like outdoors and ocean, even though the coast was nearly two hours away.
Scent recall was definitely a thing, because the slightest whiff of him brought an assault of memories that threatened to drag her right back to him. For a second, she’d glimpsed the old him, the him she’d loved.
But he’d hurt her, and being nice to him wasn’t on the agenda.
She didn’t even bother to fake a civil smile. “Travis.”
“Casey.” He scanned her face slowly, like he was soaking her in, but then he blinked and glanced over her shoulder at the door. “The guy you were having dinner with. Was he John Winslow?”
She edged closer to the counter to pay. Hopefully her cheeks hadn’t turned as red as they felt. Casey focused on his question, trying to ignore the way he folded the past into the present. What did it matter to him whom she had dinner with? He didn’t have the right to ask.
“It was.” She made a show of glancing at her watch and then over her shoulder at the door, as though she had somewhere so much better to be. “And I have to go.” Sidestepping him, she pulled her arms from his warm grasp, trying not to make the action as slow and reluctant as she felt. The tiny little traitor inside her wanted to stay right where she was. Good thing her intellect was stronger than her heart. “See you around.”
Travis opened his mouth and closed it again, watching her like he couldn’t quite figure out if she was serious about walking away. “How did you meet John?”
He couldn’t really believe he had the right to ask such a question. “Really not any of your business, is it?” Casey turned away and forced a smile at the cashier. There was nothing to talk about, especially if it was the way he’d spotted her across the room and suddenly remembered she existed. Or he’d decided to be jealous because somebody else wanted to be with her.
Except John didn’t have any more interest in hanging around than Travis had. She huffed out her frustration and headed for the exit without looking back.
Travis didn’t follow, but she knew he watched her as she pushed through the front door. Pent-up anger roiled inside her. If he was the kind of man who could be trusted, he wouldn’t have taken off on her with some lame excuse about the army not being conducive to a family. She was as much of a soldier as he was, and that was the flimsiest reason in the world for a breakup.
Outside, she inhaled deeply and immediately wished she hadn’t. The humidity of the early September evening made taking a breath feel more like drowning. It was after eight o’clock, but the heat of the day held on even in the twilight. It didn’t matter she’d been raised here, nobody ever really got used to the way summer dragged into autumn. The North Carolina Sandhills brought with them a special kind of humidity-fueled torture.
Grabbing her phone, she started to fire off a text to John to cancel their interview for the next day, but she paused. He’d been a great source on her last article, and his input would be valuable for her research on the Joint Task Force mission he’d been a part of five years ago. Casey tapped her thumb against her phone. This was why business and personal didn’t mix.
Maybe she should let it go. This was one working dinner with a man she hardly knew. Nothing serious. Casey glanced over her shoulder. Nothing like the place she’d been with Travis when he walked out her door for the last time.
Forget him. Forget this day. She was done. Casey shoved her phone into her hip pocket and pulled her keys from her purse. Time to go home to air-conditioning and ice cream.
“Casey, wait.”
Against her will, her feet dragged to a stop on the sidewalk. Yep. Travis was still tenacious.
And she still couldn’t resist him.
Travis stopped beside her and glanced around the parking lot. “At least let me walk you to your car. If John can’t be gentleman enough to—”
“Are you for real?” Casey whipped around and turned the full force of her pent-up fury on him. “Were you watching the whole time? You think you get to spy on me because...because why, exactly? Walk away, Travis. Seems like that’s the one thing you’re really good at.”
He didn’t back off like she’d expected but held his ground, his expression neutral. “Just walking you to your car, Case. Let a guy be nice, okay?”
Travis was a lot of things, including a big kid in a man’s body, but one thing was certain—his mama had taught him how to be a gentleman. He’d walk any lone female to her car. It had nothing to do with her. She could stand on the sidewalk and fight him, or she could let him take the walk to the end of the row with her, thank him, then go on her not-so-merry way.
It was easier to give in. Without another word, she turned on her heel, made sure no cars were coming, then stepped off the sidewalk.
Travis kept pace beside her, not saying a word.
As much as she didn’t want to talk to him, Casey couldn’t hack the silence. Between the two of them, it was unnatural. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, running her thumb along the stitching. “Did you ever get any word on orders?” He should have moved on from Bragg months ago, but an investigation at his unit had held all his soldiers in place. Word around post was the fence was down now that the investigation was closed, and guys were being shuffled to other assignments.
He lagged behind then caught up, as though the question had slowed his pace. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to selection for a Special Missions Unit in a little over a week.”
“I never knew you wanted to go that route.” There were a lot of things he’d kept from her, including his apparent fear of commitment.
“You still with the Public Affairs Office?” He didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t push it.
