When Gage pulled his Jeep into the parking lot at the clinic early the next morning, Felicia gasped in surprise as she turned and narrowed her eyes at Gage. “What did you do?”

She waved her hand at Briggs, who stood outside the clinic with a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder, waiting. “He hates working the early shift, and he never works Mondays.” Briggs had said Mondays were against his religion...the one that required he sleep until noon on the first official day of the workweek.

“Briggs and I came to a mutually beneficial agreement,” Gage said innocently.

She glared at him as he got out of the Jeep. While she loved that he wanted to protect her, he couldn’t change her staff’s work schedule. They each were scheduled at certain times for a reason, and money was tight enough without paying someone overtime.

But he’d already taken time out of his schedule to bring her here. She’d deal with this between her and Briggs...after Gage left. She took a deep breath.

As she approached the two men, they were speaking in low tones so she couldn’t hear them. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at the two of them. “I don’t know what you two are hatching, but I’m thinking it needs to stop right now.”

They both looked at her with blank, innocent expressions that didn’t work on her in the least.

Gage turned back to Briggs and shook his hand. “Okay, well I need to get to work. You’ll take care of things, right?”

“Yep,” Briggs agreed and avoided looking at Felicia again.

Gage cautiously approached her and wrapped his arms around her. “I just want you to be safe when I can’t be here.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I know. I get that—”

“Then don’t give Briggs a hard time. He’s doing this for me. I need you to do this for me, too. If not, then I’ll have to take leave until they catch this guy just for my peace of mind. Please, Doc. If something happened to you—something more anyway...” He brushed his thumb across the bruise on her temple. “I’m not sure I’d survive it.”

She hated the fear in his eyes. “Okay, I give in. Whatever you have going with Briggs will be fine. I’m assuming he’ll tell me the plan, right?” She aimed that comment at her traitor of an assistant who’d been carefully avoiding her gaze.

Instead, Briggs looked to Gage for guidance.

Felicia barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yes,” Gage said. “He can tell you the plan.”

Felicia shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I’m thinking you can keep me for the next fifty years.” He leaned down and kissed her.

When they finally came up for air, she didn’t even remember what they’d been discussing.

“Stay safe today,” Gage said.

“I will.” She nodded. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be ready to go at around six thirty or seven.”

That would give her a little bit of time to make sure everything was taken care of before the nightshift came in for the boarders. When they’d come in yesterday, she’d rearranged the schedule so that she wouldn’t be covering any of the night shifts. That had been her one compromise to the situation she found herself in; she wouldn’t be here late at night when she’d be more vulnerable.

With one more hug and kiss, Gage reluctantly let her go, jogged around to the driver’s side of his Jeep, and left.

Felicia turned to Briggs with a reluctant smile as she threaded her elbow through his to walk up to the clinic.

“Now...” she said, debating about how much she wanted to torment the young man who’d sold her out to impress his love interest’s dad. “Let’s hear this plan you and Gage have hatched. And then I need to know what you’re getting out of it. I’ll see if I can make it a better deal for you.”

Briggs smiled in relief. “And that’s why I like you best.”

“Of course you do. I’m the one who signs your checks.”

Briggs cleared his throat uncomfortably. “And I really, really appreciate that and hope for it to continue.”

Felicia just laughed, adding a bit of evil to the sound of it. There was no reason to let the kid know he wasn’t off the hook yet.

Briggs swung to gape in alarm.

Instead of reassuring him as she unlocked the clinic doors, she asked, “So, what’s in the duffle bag?” She wasn’t ready to let him or Gage rest easy. Not yet. While they’d done this to help take care of her—and she could readily admit that it made her feel cared for—it was more than a little controlling and heavy-handed of both of them.

“Um...” He glanced down at the bag like he’d forgotten he’d been carrying it. “Oh, they’re bats.”

She stilled and raised her eyebrows at him. “Bats? Don’t tell me you guys voted to give into the chamber’s pleas and have formed a baseball team for the clinic.”

Briggs laughed. “Uh...no,” he said emphatically. “Definitely not.”

Good. She’d been worried there for a moment. They’d been dodging that mandatory fun bullet for as long as she’d been working in Terravista. The town did like its rec leagues. She shuddered. No, thank you. “So, what’s with the sudden interest in baseball?”

He leered at her for a moment. “Just to set the record straight, I have never had an issue with baseball. Um...have you seen those tight pants? I’m a season ticket holder for the Geckos.”

She shook her head. “Such an unfortunate mascot.” The local minor league team had obviously been drinking when they’d chosen that one.

“True that. One of my friends helps out with the team, and I borrowed them from him. They’re actually for your protection. We’ll keep one in every single room of the clinic. That way you—or whoever may be in a room with you—will never be without a weapon on hand. I called everyone, and no one has a concealed carry license. This was my next best idea.”

Slowly she nodded. She would have had a problem with a handgun in the clinic, but for some reason the idea of having a bat on hand...everywhere...was actually reassuring. “Okay, I can get on board with that. Now, why don’t you explain your presence here on a dreaded Monday morning?”

“Easy. Mr. Winston...”

“It’s probably should be Colonel Winston,” she corrected.

Briggs flushed red. “Damn, you’re right. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Colonel Winston said if I made myself available whenever you were here, he would let Austin out of his grounding a week early, and I could have permission to take him out.”

And of course, Briggs jumped right on that. It was actually kind of sweet that he liked Austin enough to give up Monday mornings and sleeping in for him. And it was incredibly sneaky, if not diabolically smart, of Gage to offer the one thing that Briggs wanted most right now.

“Briggs, I can’t afford to pay you to be here whenever I’m here. That’s just not in the budget.”

He shook his head back and forth emphatically. “Oh, no, I don’t want you to pay me. This is a volunteer job. I talked to everyone. We all agreed that I’d stick by your side this week...an extra set of eyes and ears to offer an extra layer of protection. I know I’m not bodyguard material, but maybe if you have someone with you all the time, this guy will think twice about messing with you again.”

That was actually very sweet. All the behind the scenes plotting and planning made her feel more than a little cared for, even if it had been a little sneaky and underhanded to go behind her back that way. She had a team on her side, and they wanted to make sure she was safe. It was all a little overwhelming. Her chest tightened.

She swept Briggs into her arms for a huge hug. “You know what? Austin’s a very lucky guy. And I’m pretty lucky, too. Thanks, Briggs.”

She’d have to remember this feeling when she saw Gage again. He’d been the instigator of all this. No matter that she felt a little stifled and smothered, she also felt so much safer than she would have otherwise. That was wholly down to him...taking care of her. It was nice.

***

AS THE MAINTENANCE group filed into the wing conference room and sat around the large conference table, Gage watched Steven, looking for any indication for how he was doing today. But Steven pointedly avoided meeting his gaze.

Gage squared his shoulders and stifled a sigh, not happy to have so much personal and professional strife between the two of them. It made for a really uncomfortable work environment for everyone involved.

Five minutes later, Gage cleared his throat. “If everyone will quiet down. We’ll get this meeting started and put us all out of our misery.”

The maintenance group—specifically Steven’s squadron—had put together a plan of action so that they could get both the maintenance and flying schedule back on course without ruining everyone’s summer.

Gage nodded to Steven. “Major Hardesty, since I think most of this is your baby, I’ll turn it over to you.”

Steven acknowledged the shift of attention and addressed the group. “The maintenance group command structure worked all weekend long, trying to hash out a plan that would work for both maintenance and operations. There may be some choices that seem a bit unprecedented, but I hope you all will hear me out.” Steven looked around the room, meeting every single commander’s gaze. “We’re trying to take care of the mission and our people, because in the long run, the mission will suffer if the people are suffering.”

Several of the commanders nodded.

“So, if you’ll open your folders, we’ll go over the plan.” Steven had opened his navy blue file folder that looked identical to the other ones in the room. But when he glanced down, he gasped, his face paling to an unhealthy shade of gray.

Gage waited for him for a few seconds and then prompted, “Major Hardesty, is something wrong?”

Steven looked up at him, his expression nothing short of shattered. “Um...yes.” He slammed his folder closed. “I need to talk to you in private right the fuck now.”

For a moment, there was stunned silence, broken as a few people muttered in confusion. Gage glanced over at his second in command, Carter, who shrugged.

“Okay,” Gage said to the room. “I’m sorry for the delay. Everyone, take five and grab another cup of coffee. Major Hardesty and I will be right back.”

He led Steven out of the room and around the corner to his office. Steven followed right at his heels. When he turned to get an explanation, Steven still had that file in a white-knuckled grip. Gage closed the door, figuring they needed privacy for this discussion.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Instead of saying something—which might have been difficult since from the bones standing in stark relief on his cheeks his jaw was clenched tight—Steven shoved the folder into Gage’s hands.

He flipped it open, and his mouth dropped open. The first page was a huge, enlarged photo of him and Felicia in the forest as he fucked her against the tree. The picture was clear, and there was no doubt who the two people were. Written across the bottom in red marker were the words, The WHORE deserves to DIE!

Ice cold sweat formed on Gage’s back. He flipped the page and then to the next. Every single piece of paper in the folder revealed another photo of the two of them...all from the forest. The same words were written on each one.

Although he hated to do it in front of the already furious and pain-filled Steven, Gage quickly examined each photo, looking for any clue about who this psycho might be.

The final photo froze his blood in his veins. It was a photo taken from farther away—maybe with a telephoto lens—that showed him crouched beside Felicia’s overturned truck. This time, the words were different. Next time, she DIES!

He glanced up at Steven, who still appeared stunned, pale and now haunted. He had to have been looking at every photo with Gage. Gage asked, “Where did you get this folder?”

“It was on my admin’s desk right outside my office on top of all the other folders that were prepped for the meeting.” He stopped, his eyes widening. “Those photos...they weren’t...”

“No.” Gage shook his head. “All the rest of us had the correct paperwork. Your copy was the only one tampered with.” He flipped to the cover. It was clearly marked as Steven’s copy both the date and the time of the meeting on it.

“Someone who had access to your office did this.”

“It would have to be.” Steven nodded. “So, what do we do now about the meeting?”

Steven appeared to be getting back on track better than he was. All he wanted to do was rush to Felicia and whisk her away from the danger this maniac threatened. From the threats in the folder, he didn’t plan on just hurting her next time. He wanted her dead, and the thought of that froze Gage in terror.

“I think we need to postpone the meeting and call both OSI and the downtown detective working Felicia’s case. This asshole has access to the base, and that could be a risk to every person here. We aren’t going to mess around with this. We’ll just have to reschedule the meeting for sometime later today or tomorrow.”

They had to catch this guy before he hurt or killed someone.

***

AN HOUR LATER, A NEW group had formed in Steven’s command offices consisting of Gage, Steven, and Steven’s first sergeant, since he knew where most of the problems lay within the squadron. The first sergeant in each squadron acted as the squadron’s disciplinarian arm.

Normally Gage wouldn’t be involved with a squadron like this, but when it was Felicia’s life and health on the line, they couldn’t keep him away.

They had a pile of files in front of them, all the cases concerning disciplinary action in Steven’s squadron. While they had no idea if this person had been in trouble, there was no doubt that whoever he or she was that they were obsessed with Steven and targeting Felicia as a result. This person also had to be at least a little unhinged, so the odds were good that he or she might have caused them issues in the past.

Honestly, they didn’t know where else to start.

So far, they had decided not to call OSI—the military investigative branch of the Security Forces—just because of the personal nature of the photos. Gage didn’t want or need rumors of details about the photos spreading around the base.

Gage questioned the validity of that decision of not calling in OSI. The guys trained in law enforcement were more likely to see a pattern or connection than the three of them were, but the thought of showing those intimate photos of Felicia to someone else sent nausea tumbling through his belly. They’d try it this way first, and then if they came up with something, they could still call the professionals in later.

Steven and Sergeant Brian Howell spoke quietly as they flipped through the files, discussing the mental state of the soldiers involved and the various outcomes. The AMXS was always one of the biggest and youngest enlistment squadrons on base. As a result, they always had the largest amount of troublemakers. Just the punishments from the last six months alone counted in the hundreds. They were definitely looking for a needle in the haystack.

“What about your admin personnel?” Gage asked.

Steven laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Colonel, we don’t have admin down here in the bowels of the military that we call maintenance. Only the group level organizations and operations have gotten to keep their personnel troops. What I do have is an airman first class who couldn’t manage to upgrade on his technicals and is awaiting discharge paperwork to come through the system.”

Gage’s eyes widened. “And you don’t think that he might be suspect?”

Steven shook his head. “Frankly, no. Airman Kennedy is a good kid. He just has problems taking tests. He’s excelled at being my admin. I truly wish I could keep him in the Air Force as my admin for the rest of my career. Yes, he’s that good. But since we’re in maintenance, I don’t get to make those choices, and he’s going to have to separate.”

Gage frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Yeah, that’s not the way it would happen in one of the operations squadrons. This is life in maintenance.” Steven lifted half the files in the pile. “I’d guess half these guys are getting a raw deal, but they made bad choices, because they’re young and stupid. But the Air Force puts these young guys to work on multi-million dollar planes every day. When they screw up, they often aren’t given much in the way of second chances, because a screw up can cost millions of dollars in equipment and lives lost. It’s just the way it is.”

Gage clenched his jaw. While he’d heard the rumblings of this argument before, having it stated so baldly straight to his face rankled. “Major, did you ever consider that your personnel problems may stem from your own bad attitude?”

Steven closed his eyes, and Gage could almost see him counting to ten in his head, trying to maintain control of his temper. Finally, he opened them to glare at Gage. “Yes. That’s why I want to put in my separation paperwork.”

That surprised Gage. “You still want to do that?” Even though Felicia had broken up with him?

“Yes, Colonel,” he bit out. “I’m not in junior high, making all my life choices based solely upon the girl who I have a crush on. Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned. I’m still stuck in a job that’s slowly leeching my happiness for life. I can’t do this for another four years.”

Sergeant Howell raised a file into the air. “This might be something to look at.” He set it back on the table and flipped it open.

Steven perked up. “Who is it?”

“Marcum Tellison,” the sergeant answered.

Steven groaned.

“Who is he?” Gage asked.

“My biggest nightmare. When I took over the squadron, he was running the sortie generation flight and had a dangerous attitude of pure didn’t-give-a-fuck.”

“He didn’t get along with the last commander at all, either,” Sergeant Howell interjected.

“But he was still running the shop?” Gage asked.

“Yes. He only had one letter of reprimand on record and that was for playing music too loud in his car on base. I couldn’t replace him just because I thought he was a little punk-ass shit.”

Gage nodded, not seeing why this guy might have drawn their attention for this case. It looked like Felicia’s stalker had an obsession with Steven, not a complete dislike.

“Though he was a complete fuck up, he was brilliant about getting other guys to cover for him, so I could never nail him on anything directly. We’d just hear rumors that he was stirring shit up. He was really good at making sure his crew was loyal, sometimes even taking the blame for his actions. Eventually, he got caught promoting gang activity within the squadron, and we were able to dishonorably discharge him. Last I heard, he had been arrested and was serving time down in Texas somewhere.”

Gage blew out a sigh of frustration. “So, he couldn’t be our guy.”

“No, he couldn’t.” Sergeant Howell tapped the folder. “But after he got thrown out, we found out that there was a whole group of airmen that his crew had been tormenting and basically using as slave labor. There are a couple who’ve had to go to mental counseling because of it. This person could be one of those guys.”

Gage nodded, seeing the possible correlation. “Because they see Steven as their savior. He took away their bully and tormenter.”

Sergeant Howell pointed at him. “Got it in one.”

Steven shook his head. “That’s crazy, though.”

“Exactly. That’s exactly what we’re dealing with here,” Gage said and turned to the first sergeant. “Do you have a list of those soldiers?”

“Yep. We kept a list of the airmen involved, so we could all keep an eye out for further signs of retaliation or bullying after it was all over.” After a few clicks of the mouse, the printer in the room came to life, spitting out a list of fifteen soldiers. Sergeant Howell handed a copy to each of them.

Gage scanned the list, although since he was new on base the idea that one of these names would mean anything to him was ludicrous. But then he did spot a familiar one. “Your admin is on this list.”

“Yes,” Steven said, and his tone said Gage was an idiot. “But I’ll reiterate, Dalton is not a troublemaker. In fact, he actually wasn’t one of the soldiers who’d been persecuted. He was the whistleblower on the whole operation.”

“He had access to the files.” Gage frowned trying to puzzle it all out. A criminal’s way of thinking was so far out of his realm of knowledge. They really needed to call OSI. Those guys had the knowledge they needed, but dammit, he didn’t want to expose Steven, Felicia, or him to the soap-opera-worthy drama that would cause.

“As did everyone in my squadron. The files sat on my admin’s desk for at least fifteen hours because they were printed yesterday. Any person in my squadron could have come through and made the switch of the paperwork.”

“I hate to say this, because I know it’s uncomfortable,” Sergeant Howell said, “but I think it’s time for us to call OSI.”

Exactly what Gage didn’t want to do, but his gut said the same thing.

“I think this might be something worth looking at,” Sergeant Howell continued. “It fits, but we have to cover the Air Force and our actions, and we need more specialized training than we have for that.”

Gage blew out a breath. “You’re right.”

They should have called in the investigators right away, but he’d hoped to spare Felicia and Steven the humiliation. Somehow, they’d all ended up living in a soap opera, and he hated that, especially knowing the rumor mill of the Air Force and that it was already awake and flapping. The existence of those photos would just make it all more heated and scintillating for the gossipmongers.

He was having enough of an issue keeping Felicia from running and giving him a real possibility of a second chance. This certainly wouldn’t help his case.

And, hell, if she got hurt or worse and he hadn’t prevented it from happening, she should hate him. If that occurred he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, either.