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Operation Hero's Watch
Justine Davis
Reunited in peril… and united in love? When a stalker haunts Cassidy Grant, she turns to Jace Cahill to keep her safe. Soon Jace realises that his best friend’s little sister is all grown up. But with danger lurking, can guard dog Cutter keep Cassidy safe… and nudge her and Jace toward the scariest proposition of all—a future together?
Reunited in peril...and united in love?
Justine Davis’s new Cutter’s Code thriller
When a stalker haunts Cassidy Grant’s every move, she turns to Jace Cahill to keep her safe. Pretty soon Jace realizes that his best friend’s little sister is all grown up. But with danger menacing, can the brilliant guard dog Cutter keep Cassidy safe...and nudge her and Jace toward the scariest proposition of all—a future together?
JUSTINE DAVIS lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by and sharing the neighbourhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favourite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.
Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com (http://www.justinedavis.com) at Twitter.com/justine_d_davis (http://www.Twitter.com/justine_d_davis) or on Facebook at Facebook.com/justinedaredavis (http://www.Facebook.com/justinedaredavis)
Also by Justine Davis (#u5281a46f-a79a-591b-9a97-854d3b05137c)
Operation Midnight
Operation Reunion
Operation Blind Date
Operation Unleashed
Operation Power Play
Operation Homecoming
Operation Soldier Next Door
Operation Alpha
Operation Notorious
Colton’s Twin Secrets
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Operation Hero’s Watch
Justine Davis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09384-2
OPERATION HERO’S WATCH
© 2019 Janice Davis Smith
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ILKA
2009–2017
Contents
Cover (#ueb7b28f2-3b52-5e57-a29e-7ce1fdf53892)
Back Cover Text (#u35fb3bac-8eb0-5927-861b-4df4792925e3)
About the Author (#u9afd61e6-d12d-5fb3-a067-29667ebf1e2d)
Booklist (#ub1d92ba6-f48c-5585-8fe0-9333b910fa72)
Title Page (#ua8302ec2-3653-5f7c-910a-c6508085c4c7)
Copyright (#ud318fc34-6cac-5e2b-a474-9fb1eafe3d78)
Dedication (#uc08c6bc9-9ec6-5fbb-a081-1afb945393f3)
Chapter 1 (#u5ff4e79e-5e7d-5829-9b4b-2e379cc90f86)
Chapter 2 (#u4c635a13-d976-547b-bdd9-0e23892d6dc9)
Chapter 3 (#u8f022269-92e0-5231-a238-18fdad19f12e)
Chapter 4 (#u7d947f0f-163a-527d-b622-4d8ce43395b7)
Chapter 5 (#ubb97424a-6bb2-57b2-8dda-baeb853d8165)
Chapter 6 (#u55184eab-854f-551e-9b44-b2ca56d7114d)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u5281a46f-a79a-591b-9a97-854d3b05137c)
You’ve gotten soft.
Jace Cahill muttered it to himself, since he was alone in his misery. He’d gotten used to the dry and warm—okay, hot—climate of Southern California, and this blustery day in the northwest, driving rain down the back of his neck no matter which way he faced, was getting to him.
Of course, the fact that he’d traveled over a thousand miles by bus, hitchhiking and now walking might have something to do with it. He shifted the backpack that was getting heavier with every step. He was heading in the right direction, and he knew he was in Washington State, on the west side of Puget Sound, but that was about it. As another swirling gust sent a blast of rain into his face, he thought grimly that with his luck, he’d end up marching straight into Canada.
At least then somebody’d stop you and tell you where the hell you are.
And all this to keep a damned promise he’d made years—hell, a decade—ago. He’d done it without thought. Or at least without enough thought. Cory Grant had been his friend, and it was a promise he surely would never be called upon to keep.
And yet here he was—
He heard the sound of tires on wet asphalt. He turned, spotted an older, somewhat dinged-looking silver coupe approaching. He threw out his thumb, but without much hope, and kept walking as it passed him.
His head came up then, and he frowned. That was the strangest sound he’d ever heard a car make.
The car stopped. And then it began to back up. Straight, steady, not even a wobble. But as it got to a few feet away he heard that sound again. And he suddenly realized it wasn’t the car at all, but the dog inside he was hearing. A dog who was barking like crazy, loud, sharp and insistent.
The car came to a stop in front of him. He could see the dog now, through the back window. Dark fur, alert ears and uncanny eyes that were fixed on him. And the teeth. Yeah, the teeth. Although the tail was wagging slightly. It was a different color than his head and shoulders, a sort of reddish brown. But it definitely was wagging. That was good, wasn’t it? His spirits rose at the thought of getting out of the storm as much as giving his weary legs a rest.
The driver’s door opened, and the barking was instantly louder. A man got out, turned and looked at him over the top of the vehicle. He was tall, lean and looked solidly muscled, but it was the eyes that were the most intimidating. Those were a pair of eyes that had seen too much, and too much of it bad.
“You want a ride, get in,” the man said over the dog’s continuing vocalizing.
Jace hesitated. But then the dog upped the pitch a notch, and suddenly the man looked like nothing more than a harassed dog owner.
“Please,” he said with a roll of his eyes as water streamed down his face. “Get in so he’ll shut up.”
Jace wasn’t sure why the guy thought him getting in would quiet the animal, but the heartfelt plea changed the whole tenor of the thing, and his wariness faded. He reached for the passenger door handle.
The moment he pulled it open the dog went quiet.
“Thank God,” the driver muttered and got back in, more than a little wet himself now. When Jace closed his door, the sound of the rain was instantly muted, and with the cessation of the wind blowing it into every conceivable place Jace let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you,” the man said drily, glancing toward the dog, who now had his head poked in between the front seats. “Happy now, mutt?”
The dog gave a wag of that plumed tail. He had on a collar, Jace noticed, with a blue tag shaped like a boat. The name Cutter was stamped on it, which made him wonder if he was named after the kind of boat. This guy didn’t look like an active service member, but he looked too young to be retired. Then again, those eyes...
“He do that often?” Jace asked. “Go ballistic on passing hitchhikers?”
“First time I know of. Buckle up.”
Jace did so. Then he twisted in the seat to really look at the dog. Who was staring at him. Not just looking, staring. The animal let out a low whine. He sounded, Jace thought, almost worried. And then the dog looked at the driver. Gave a short, sharp little bark. The man’s head snapped around to meet the dog’s gaze. Then he glanced at Jace, then shifted back to the dog. The dog had never looked away.
The man groaned audibly. “Really, dog?”
The dog moved then. Reached out with one leg to paw at Jace’s arm. But he kept looking at the man Jace presumed was his owner. If one ever really owned an animal like this.
“Great,” the man muttered. “You do realize I’m the only one around right now, right?”
Jace wondered what he was supposed to say to that, but then realized the man had been talking once more to the dog. The dog, who let out an odd little whuff of sound that sounded crazily like, “So?”
The man sighed. Pulled the car over to the side of the road, which made Jace even warier; given the lack of traffic, they could have sat there for an hour before another car came by.
Then he turned in the driver’s seat to hold out a hand to Jace. “Rafe Crawford. And this pain in the...neck is Cutter.”
“I gathered,” Jace said, shaking the offered hand, noting the strength that was obvious but not expressed with any declarative squeeze. This guy had nothing to prove. “The tag.”
“Yeah.”
He waited, and belatedly Jace realized what for. “Uh... Jace Cahill.”
The man named Rafe nodded. “So,” he said, sounding like a man resigned to an inevitability he wasn’t looking forward to, “are you heading to or from?”
“To or from...what?”
“Whatever your problem is.”
