Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women.
Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other women. When he meets Sara sparks fly between them. He wants her to quit the training and let him take care of her.
Sara graduates and now she and her team have to save Sara’s daughter from a serial killer. Can Mac step back and trust her in a dangerous situation? Can Sara and Mac resolve their issues, or will they go in opposite directions?
Connor leapt out of the car and hurried to the gate. He lifted the latch and the gate squeaked. The body had been found at the bottom of the stairs, probably before she got through the gate. She’d opened the gate, seen someone, turned and ran. The shooter had followed her out and shot her.
A robbery gone bad didn’t make sense. If she was running away why would someone shoot her? He hadn’t been going through the house to steal something. He’d been waiting for her to come through the door. That was the only thing that made sense. It wasn’t a robbery. A robber would have heard the gate squeak when she came home. He had time to get away.
Conner squatted down by the markers and used his hand to figure out the general direction the shot came from. He’d get forensics to do a technical check, but it looked like it came from outside the front door and to one side. Connor ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek.
If it had been a robbery, why did it appear that the person stood right there by the door, waiting for her to open it? He should have been searching the house for something he could steal. Had the killer been waiting for her? Had she even opened the door? Had she known someone was inside? And if she had, how?
Conner ducked under the ribbon. From his pocket he pulled out the key he’d picked up before he originally came out to check on the angry woman from New York. He shoved it into the old brass lock.
Before he turned the key, he bent down to observe the fresh scratches around the keyhole. Connor took out his notebook and made a notation about the scratches. It looked like someone had picked the lock. Forensics would have picked it up, or they’d pick it up when they returned. He pulled out his camera and took several shots. He wanted to make sure nothing got missed.
Had forensics also photographed the scratches? He’d check with Frank.
He pulled gloves out of his pocket and snapped them on before he turned the key and pushed open the heavy, blue painted wood door. He stood quietly in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room. With the curtains pulled shut, the inside was dark and cool.
Connor closed his eyes in an attempt to get a feel of the robbery and the murder.
Nothing came to him except this niggling feeling that it wasn’t a robbery. If that was the case it was a deliberate murder. It made more sense, but what was the motive?
How the hell could he convince anyone, especially Tozer, that he had a ‘feeling’ it wasn’t a robbery? The death needed to be investigated as a murder. Maybe forensics could give him something.