Sheriff

  HAZARDOUS HOMECOMING

  Witnessing a prison break, FBI agent Julianne Martinez is within seconds of death...before she’s rescued by the one man she thought she’d never see again. She’d know her long-ago love, Brody Kenner, anywhere, even with a sheriff star on his chest. Years ago she left Texas and Brody, and had no plans of returning...until the trail of a missing agent brought her home to both. Brody won’t let her investigation proceed without him, and he needs her and her K-9 dog to track his escaped prisoner. But partnering with Julianne to solve two cases only leads to danger when the hunted becomes the hunter. This is a mission that cannot fail...because Brody lost Julianne once, and he won’t lose her again.

  The low growl sent chills up her spine.

  “What is it, boy?” Julianne pulled her gun from the holster on her waist and glanced around the parking lot as if searching for whatever had gotten her dog’s attention.

  “Does he do this often?” Brody put a hand on his gun, too.

  “Only when he senses danger.”

  They’d taken a few steps toward her vehicle when Thunder abuptly stopped and backed up a step. He growled low in his throat, and pushed at Julianne with his nose, as if to move her out of the way.

  “What is it?” The moment Julianne said the words, Brody saw a figure running away from the parking lot.

  He grabbed her arm. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

  CLASSIFIED K-9 UNIT:

  These lawmen solve the toughest cases with the help of their brave canine partners

  Guardian—Terri Reed, April 2017

  Sheriff—Laura Scott, May 2017

  Special Agent—Valerie Hansen, June 2017

  Bounty Hunter—Lynette Eason, July 2017

  Bodyguard—Shirlee McCoy, August 2017

  Tracker—Lenora Worth, September 2017

  Classified K-9 Unit Christmas—Terri Reed and Lenora Worth, December 2017

  Laura Scott is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance and read faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published over twelve books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

  Books by Laura Scott

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Classified K-9 Unit

  Sheriff

  Callahan Confidential

  Shielding His Christmas Witness

  The Only Witness

  SWAT: Top Cops

  Wrongly Accused

  Down to the Wire

  Under the Lawman’s Protection

  Forgotten Memories

  Holiday on the Run

  Mirror Image

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  SHERIFF

  Laura Scott

  Answer me when I call to You, my righteous God.

  Give me relief from my distress;

  have mercy on me and hear my prayer.

  —Psalms 4:1

  This book is dedicated to a dear friend and wonderful fan, Vicki Lynn Christman, and her adorable Westie Sophie. Here’s the K-9 story you’ve been waiting for! Thanks for being such a strong supporter of my books.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM AMISH REFUGE BY DEBBY GIUSTI

  ONE

  The low rumble of a car engine caused FBI Agent Julianne Martinez to freeze in her tracks. She quickly gave her K-9 partner, Thunder, the hand signal for stay. The Big Thicket region of east Texas was densely covered with trees and brush. This particular area of the woods had also been oddly silent.

  Until now.

  Envisioning the map in her pocket that Dylan O’Leary, the team’s technical guru, had drawn up for them, she realized she must have gone too far south, heading toward the rural road, barely paved, instead of north to the cabin where their missing colleague, FBI Agent Jake Morrow, could very well be held captive by the criminal mobster Angus Dupree.

  Moving silently, she angled toward the road, sucking in a harsh breath when she caught a glimpse of a white-and-black prison van.

  What in the world? The van abruptly halted with enough force that it rocked back and forth. Frowning, she edged closer to get a better look.

  The reason the van had stopped was that there was a black SUV sitting diagonally across the road, barricading the way.

  Reacting instinctively to the perceived threat, Julianne rushed forward. As she drew her revolver, she heard a bang and a crash followed by a man tumbling out of the back of the prison van. The large bald guy dressed in prison orange made a beeline toward the SUV. Another man stood in the center of the road pointing a weapon at the van driver, who held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.

  A prison break!

  “Stop!” Julianne pointed her weapon and shot at the gunman, hoping, praying she could save the van driver’s life. Her aim was true, and the assailant flinched, staggering backward, but didn’t go down. Instead he turned toward her, a fierce expression etched on his face.

  He had to be wearing body armor.

  Seconds later, the situation spiraled out of control. The gunman shot the driver through the windshield, then came running directly at Julianne. She gave her K-9 partner two hand-signal commands.

  Hide. Stay.

  Good boy, she thought, as Thunder slinked behind a large tree. He was an English foxhound, and his brown-and-black coat, along with his black FBI bulletproof vest, worked well as camouflage. She didn’t want him to get hurt, but she also needed him to protect her back.

  Just as she’d protect his.

  She ducked behind a tree, then took a steadying breath. Tightening her grip on her 9 mm, she peered around to where she’d last seen the shooter. She fired at him once again, then ducked behind the tree.

  Keep moving.

  Julianne eased from one tree to the next as Thunder watched, waiting for her signal. Now the silence was suffocating, the slightest rustle of a leaf unbearably loud.

  When she couldn’t take the quiet for another moment, she peeked out trying to identify where the gunman was located.

  Crack!

  She ducked, feeling the whiz of the bullet miss her by a fraction of an inch, a piece of bark flying off the tree. The perp was roughly twenty feet in front of her, far closer than she’d anticipated.

  After a long moment, she was about to risk another glance, when the assailant popped out from behind a tree. He looked her square in the eye, the barrel of his gun pointing directly at her chest.

  “Stop right there,” he shouted in a hoarse voice. “Put your hands in the air.”

  Angry that she hadn’t anticipated the gunman’s mov
e, Julianne held his gaze, refusing to glance at Thunder, hoping the thug hadn’t seen her partner.

  “Put your hands in the air!” he repeated harshly.

  She continued to stare at him, knowing if she did as the gunman demanded, he’d shoot where she stood. He’d already killed the van driver, what more did he have to lose?

  Nothing.

  So why hadn’t he shot her already? Was he looking for information?

  “Fire that gun, and I’ll plant a bullet between your eyes,” a familiar, deep husky Texan drawl came from out of nowhere.

  Brody Kenner?

  The gunman jerked and glanced to his left. In that split second she fired at the arm holding his gun. Her FBI training didn’t fail her. He screamed in pain. Blood spurted from his right arm, and he dropped the weapon.

  Then he turned and fled.

  “Thunder, fetch!” Julianne didn’t bother to look over at the man she’d once loved, the man who’d just saved her life, but remained focused on not losing the perp.

  She wasn’t nearly as fast as Thunder when it came to running through the woods, dodging trees. And it seemed like just mere moments later when she heard tires squealing as a car drove away. She slowed down, gasping for breath, knowing it was too late.

  The gunman and whoever had run from the prison van had escaped.

  Frustration clawing through her, she headed over to the vehicle to check on the driver. The poor man was dead. She murmured a prayer, wishing she had something to cover him with before turning her attention to the issue at hand.

  “Thunder?”

  Hearing nothing but silence, her heart lodged in her throat. Had the dog jumped into the getaway car? Or had someone attacked him? But then her partner came bounding back through the woods toward her. When he saw her he let out his usual, strangely musical foxhound howl.

  “Good boy,” she said, bending over to give him a good rub, scratching the soft spot between his ears. “Good boy, Thunder.”

  “What in the world was that noise?”

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened and turned to face Brody Kenner. He was taller and broader than she remembered, but had the same dark hair and brilliant blue eyes that she’d tried not to dream about after he’d broken her heart six years ago. He was dressed in a deep brown uniform with a sheriff’s star on his chest.

  So he was the Clover County sheriff now?

  Somehow she wasn’t surprised.

  Brody looked good. Better than good. Her chest felt tight and she had to concentrate in order to breathe normally.

  What was wrong with her? What she and Brody once had was over and done with. Had been for a long time. A familiar flash of resentment twisted, turned into something softer. Regret? Seeing him again, she hated to admit that maybe things weren’t as finished as she’d wanted them to be. Just looking at him standing there, so big and strong and formidable, wreaked havoc with her emotions.

  Erupting her buried feelings to the surface where they had the power to hurt her all over again.

  * * *

  Brody’s pulse still pounded at how Julianne had nearly been shot to death right in front of his eyes.

  What was she doing here? As far as he knew, she hadn’t stepped foot in the Lone Star State since joining the FBI academy six years ago.

  “Thanks for helping.” Julianne’s clipped voice was colder than the Clover River in January.

  “Hey, what are friends for?” He grinned, but she didn’t smile back. Her long ebony hair was pulled back from her face and her large dark eyes, a legacy from her Puerto Rican father, never made it easy to guess what she was thinking.

  She wore khaki slacks paired with a dark shirt, a small FBI K-9 logo over the left breast pocket. He’d known Julianne had left Texas to attend the academy but hadn’t known the FBI had a K-9 unit. Or that she’d joined it. Although she always had loved dogs.

  She frowned. “How did you get here so fast?”

  He lifted a brow. As the sheriff he was the one who should be questioning her about what she was doing trampling through the woods in his county. “I was following the prison van.” Then he scowled at where the van sat stationary in the road, the dead driver slumped over the steering wheel. “Obviously not closely enough.”

  If Julianne thought his actions strange, she didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the time to bring up how he’d intended to watch his former best friend, Nathan Otwell, walk into the maximum security prison for himself. It had taken Brody a long time to gather the evidence he needed to prove his former juvie roommate had actually participated in luring troubled young men and women into drug running, prostitution and human slavery.

  Several months of fourteen-hour days, because he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Until he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes.

  “I’m sorry the prisoner got away.” She swiped a hand across her forehead. “He must have had a backup plan.”

  He nodded, glancing curiously at her dog, sitting straight up at her side. When faced with a stranger, he didn’t bark, aside of the weird howl he’d let out.

  What had she called him? Thunder?

  “Excuse me, I need to call this in.” She slid her service weapon into her hip holster and then pulled a mobile phone from her pants pocket.

  “Wait a minute. Are you here in Clover on official business?” Brody scowled. The feds were supposed to notify local law enforcement when they were doing an investigation.

  As a courtesy at the very least.

  But he hadn’t been told anything at all about an FBI investigation taking place in his county. Which was why he’d been shocked to find Julianne facing the wrong side of a gun.

  “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, which only added fuel to the slow burn of anger and resentment in his belly.

  What, had he really thought she’d come back to find him after six years?

  No, of course not. He’d given up on that foolish hope a long time ago. She’d made her decision, one that hadn’t included him.

  “Max? It’s Julianne. I have a situation.” A brief pause as she listened, then nodded. “Okay.”

  Brody ground his teeth, wondering who Max was. Her partner? Or a personal friend? Something more than a friend?

  He cocked his head, listening to the sound of someone making their way through the woods.

  A tall, muscular man with short blond hair emerged from the brush, a caramel-brown female boxer at his side. The man’s rugged face bore a concerned look. “Julianne? What happened? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” There was a sharp edge to her tone. “I would have gotten the assailant if he hadn’t been wearing body armor.”

  “Who are you?” the man, who he guessed was Max, demanded, noticing Brody.

  “Clover County Sheriff Brody Kenner.” Brody folded his arms across his chest. “Who are y’all? And what brings the FBI to my neck of the woods?”

  He didn’t appreciate the silent exchange Julianne shared with Max.

  “FBI Special Agent in Charge, Max West.” The fed stepped closer and offered his hand. “My partner, Opal, and this is Agent Julianne Martinez and her partner, Thunder.”

  Brody shook Max’s hand, more pleased than he had a right to be to know his former flame wasn’t married. “I know Julianne, we went to college together.”

  “I see.” Max glanced at Julianne who still wasn’t smiling.

  “A guy I sent to prison just escaped,” Brody continued. “His associate came after Agent Martinez. He took a shot at her, but thankfully missed, although not by much.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Max asked, reaching out to put a hand on Julianne’s arm.

  She shook off his grip. “I’m fine, but Brody is right. I witnessed the prison break. The perp who shot at me killed the van driver
. I managed to hit him in the arm so all the hospitals in a hundred-mile radius need to be put on alert.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Brody assured her. Using his radio, he notified his dispatcher to put all the deputies on notice. He also ordered roadblocks on every major highway and for his deputies to follow up with the law enforcement agencies and hospitals located nearby. From the way the gunman had been bleeding, he felt sure the guy wouldn’t last too long without medical care. Lastly, he requested several of his deputies to report to this location in order to attend to the crime scene.

  When he finished he overheard Julianne and Max speaking in low tones.

  “Y’all still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” Brody stepped up, making it clear he wasn’t going to be ignored.

  “Following up a lead,” Max said, resting his hand on his boxer’s head.

  Brody bit back a flash of impatience. Why the secrecy? “What kind of lead? Who are you looking for?”

  Once again, Julianne and Max exchanged a long look, as if debating how much to tell him.

  He scowled, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “The information I’m about to tell you is classified, understand?” Max said. Brody nodded his agreement, so he continued, “We’re part of the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit, working a case related to one of our agents, Jake Morrow, who went missing several weeks ago.”

  “Missing?” He frowned. How often did FBI agents, especially those in some sort of secret elite team, go missing? “That’s strange.”

  “I don’t disagree. We’re here because we received an anonymous tip via a disposable cell phone, one that we were unable to trace, that Jake is being held in a secluded cabin in the area,” Julianne explained. “We’re not sure who our informant is, but we’re determined to check out each clue no matter how improbable, so if you don’t mind, we need to get back to work.”

  “I’m afraid I do mind,” Brody drawled.

  She ignored him, looking at her superior. “What did you find at your cabin?”

  “Opal didn’t alert on anything. It’s deserted and looks as if it’s been that way for a long time.”