Critical Doubt

  Contents

  Also by Barbara Freethy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

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  CRITICAL DOUBT - BLURB

  They met in a war-torn city on the other side of the world and shared an anonymous night of passion. They didn't intend to meet again. Nor did they think they'd be reunited by sinister secrets...

  * * *

  Five years later, FBI Agent Savannah Kane is headed to a small town in Georgia for the funeral of her best friend's husband. Going home is fraught with complications, but Savannah never imagined one of those would be Ryker Stone, the stranger she'd shared an unforgettable night with.

  * * *

  Haunted by an ambush that took the lives of two men in his unit, Ryker now copes by living a solitary civilian life. Attending the funeral of yet another soldier, this one lost to a senseless accident, he is shocked to run into the beautiful stranger he has never forgotten.

  * * *

  When another man in Ryker's former unit dies under suspicious circumstances, it’s clear that someone is targeting his team. He's determined to get to the truth; Savannah is just as determined to get answers for her friend. Neither wants to work with the other, and as they struggle with trust and attraction, the truth grows murkier...and more dangerous. Will finding answers reveal secrets neither one of them is ready to know?

  CRITICAL DOUBT

  © Copyright 2020 Barbara Freethy

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 9781943781997

  * * *

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Only the good die young…

  The phrase went around in Ryker’s head as he walked into the church auditorium Monday afternoon for the celebration of life honoring Lieutenant Paul Hawkins, dead at the age of thirty-two. He'd stood in the back of the church during the funeral, hidden in the shadows, exactly the way he liked it, but now he had to face the widow of one of his best friends. He had to acknowledge that Paul was gone—another one of his brothers had fallen.

  Paul hadn't died in combat like Leo and Carlos; he'd passed away after a freak fall from the roof of a house, where he'd downed too many shots of tequila in an attempt to escape the demons that had been chasing him and every one of their seven-member Army ranger unit, including himself…

  The past nine months had been hell, ever since a mission had led his team into a deadly ambush. Two had died, three had been injured, and while two had escaped without physical wounds, they hadn’t escaped psychological injury. In less than an hour, his team had been shattered. They would never do another mission again. Not one of them was still in the army. They had either left by choice or been forced out through death and medical restrictions.

  For him, it had not been a choice to leave the service, but his physical injuries had been too severe to continue to serve as a Ranger and he'd wanted to do nothing else, so his military career that had started at West Point and lasted another twelve years was over.

  But the deaths weren't over.

  The repercussions from that deadly ambush were still rolling, and today they were being felt by Abby Hawkins, a thirty-year-old woman and her seven-year-old son, Tyler. They stood by a table draped in the American flag, a gold urn in the center containing the ashes of a man who had not only been a soldier but also a husband and a father.

  Abby had long, reddish-brown hair that hung like curtains on either side of her face. Every now and then, she seemed to duck behind those curtains to take a second for herself. But then she had to come back out, fake a smile, listen to whatever words of condolence were coming her way. Tyler was at her side, a freckle-faced, ginger-haired kid, who looked as unhappy as anyone Ryker had ever seen. Abby's parents were nearby, also appearing strained and emotional.

  There wasn't anyone present from Paul's family. His mom had died when he was three, and his father, who had also been a military man, had passed away seven years ago. Since then, Abby's family had become Paul’s family, and he'd said many times how grateful he was for them.

  There were two men in uniform speaking to Abby now. The older man with the silver-gray hair, friendly face, and easygoing manner was Colonel Bill Vance, who Ryker and his team had served under in Afghanistan. Vance had been a mentor to Paul—to all of them. Next to Vance was Sergeant James Lofgren, a medic who had been attached to their unit, and had been one of the first to treat their injuries that fateful night.

  Ryker struggled to breathe. Seeing Vance and Lofgren was taking him back to a place he didn't want to go. He forced himself to look away. But as his gaze moved across the room, it caught on a memorial photo display and another man he hadn't seen in a long time—Todd Davis. Todd had been part of their seven-member team and had been Paul's best friend. Todd wasn't in uniform today. He'd left the army months ago, and today he wore an ill-fitting dark suit that hung loosely on his lean frame. His dirty-blond hair looked like it could have used a comb, and he didn't appear to have shaved in a couple of days. He looked terrible and confused, shaking his head every other second in bewilderment, as he drank a beer and stared at a large photo of their ranger team.

  Ryker's gut churned. He didn't want to look at that picture. He didn't want to be reminded of all who were lost. In fact, he didn't really want to talk to Todd, but he had to. He needed to find out what had happened to Paul, why he had been drinking so much, why he had gone on the roof, why he had fallen to his death when he’d been as surefooted as anyone Ryker had ever known.

  His gaze swept the room once more as he wondered where the other members of his unit were. Hank and Mason should be here, too, but he hadn’t seen them in the church. Why weren’t they in attendance? If he could drag himself back into the world, so could they.

  Frowning, he looked back at Abby. She squatted down to talk to a little girl. He could see her trying to smile, but the pain was evident on her face. He wished he could do something to change
what she was going through, but he had nothing to offer but the same empty words of solace she was getting from everyone else.

  Abby would want more from him. He'd been the leader of the team, and he'd let everyone down, not just the day of the ambush but ever since then. He hadn't spoken to Paul in probably eight months. Instead, he'd isolated himself on the Chesapeake Bay, living as far away from people and noise as he possibly could, because every tiny sound threatened to trigger the bells in his head that were relentless in their torturous sound.

  The doctor said it was PTSD. There didn't seem to be a physical reason for the bells to ring, but they did, and he never knew when the debilitating sounds would overwhelm his brain and make him feel like he was losing his mind.

  Even now, he felt the sounds beginning to build. Hushed conversations seemed incredibly loud. Heels hitting the hard floor made him cringe. Anxiety rose within him, bringing anger and despair with it.

  He’d once been proud of his fearlessness, but now fear seemed to come from every shadow, every corner, and he couldn’t seem to stop the physical reactions. When someone jostled him from behind, and he spun around, his defensive reflexes jumped into overdrive. He raised his hands, prepared to strike. He could have snapped the woman’s neck in one second. Thankfully, he did not.

  She gave him a startled look as she stepped back. Concern flashed in her eyes as she probably read the murderous intent in his gaze. But that worry was then followed by shock.

  The same surprise ran through his head. He dropped his hands, his confused brain trying to make sense of the beautiful woman in front of him.

  Was it her? Could it be her? It seemed unimaginable.

  He'd last seen her in a hotel room on a hot summer night in Doha five years ago. He'd been on leave, celebrating a successful mission and taking some well-deserved days of rest. She'd been on a layover, stopping in Doha after a USO show in Kuwait. He'd taken one look at her stunning face and body and knew he had to have her.

  When she'd let him buy her a drink, he'd felt like his ride on top of the world was going for another spin, especially when she'd suggested no names, no promises and no regrets. He couldn't believe his luck. He'd met the perfect woman.

  One drink had turned into two, then three. They'd danced til midnight, each step fanning the sparks between them, and then made their way upstairs to his hotel room. It had been a night he'd never forgotten. And surprisingly he'd had more than a few regrets when he'd woken up to find her gone. He'd wished then he'd gotten her name. In fact, he'd tried to find her after that, but no one seemed to know who she was. He'd started thinking of her as a beautiful dream.

  But she was real, and she was here in Dobbs, Georgia, at the funeral of one of his fallen teammates. What the hell?

  Her gaze clung to his, and he saw the same unraveling of memories in her striking light-green eyes. Her blonde hair had been shorter five year ago, barely reaching her shoulders. Now it fell halfway down her back in long, thick waves. She wasn't wearing a skimpy minidress today, but in her somber black dress, he could still see the curves of her body, the same curves that his hands and body remembered so very well.

  "You," she murmured.

  "You remember."

  She licked her lips. "Yes, but it's been a long time."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm here for my friend—for Abby." She tipped her head toward Paul's widow.

  "You're friends with Paul's wife?" he asked, surprised again.

  "Since we were kids. I spent most of my childhood in Dobbs."

  "I had no idea."

  She drew in a breath. "I know who you are. Abby showed me a photo of Paul's team two years ago, and you were in it. I had no idea you knew Paul when we…"

  "Slept together?" he finished when her voice drifted away.

  "Well, I don't recall us doing much sleeping, but yes. You're Ryker Stone."

  "And you're way ahead of me. What's your name?"

  "Savannah."

  "Savannah," he echoed. "I guess that fits you, being a Georgia girl and all. But I thought you were from Texas, like the other dancers."

  Her gaze shifted, and a flush spread across her cheeks. "I wasn't one of the dancers."

  "You weren't? I don't understand. You lied to me?" More surprise ran through him. The perfect woman on the perfect night was starting to look not so perfect.

  "I didn't lie. You assumed I was with the other entertainers. I just didn’t tell you I wasn't."

  "Why?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "I think it does. Why lie? What were you doing in Doha that night if you weren't with the show?"

  "I don't want to get into all that now. Excuse me."

  Before he could protest, she was gone—again. His lips tightened at her abrupt departure as more questions ran through his mind. Why had she let him assume she was someone she wasn't? Now he was more than a little curious to know exactly who she was.

  But as Savannah moved across the room, he thought it might be just as well that she was gone. He wasn't the man she'd slept with. Maybe he didn't need her to see who he was now.

  He did wonder if Savannah had told Abby she'd slept with him. She'd said she'd become aware of his identity two years earlier. If Savannah had told Abby about their night, wouldn't Abby have told Paul? Wouldn't Paul have come after him, demanding to know what had happened, why he'd messed around with his wife's friend? But Paul had never said a word. And as far as he knew, the only person on his team who even knew about the beautiful blonde in Doha had been Carlos, who'd been on leave with him.

  Just thinking about his favorite wingman brought another wave of sadness. Carlos had died in the ambush, along with Leo Romano. He still hadn't come to terms with their deaths. Now he had to find a way to make peace with Paul's passing, and that didn't seem possible.

  But he had to start somewhere and that meant talking to Abby. He hadn't spoken to her in probably three years, not since the team had been moved from Fort Benning, which was an hour away, to Fort Lewis in Washington State. Abby hadn't wanted to make the move, because Tyler had been sick, and she needed to be close to her family, close to Tyler's doctors. Paul hadn't wanted her to stay behind, but he knew that he'd be gone more than he was home anyway, and it was better for Tyler and Abby to stay in Georgia.

  It was probably better now, too, because Abby and Tyler had a support system that they would need even more now that Paul was gone.

  Drawing in a breath, Ryker knew he couldn’t keep stalling. But as he took a step in Abby's direction, he saw Savannah grab Abby's hand and pull her toward the side door of the auditorium.

  Savannah told everyone in the near vicinity that Abby needed a minute. And then they slipped outside.

  He let out a breath of relief. He needed a minute, too. Maybe more than one.

  "I can't do this," Abby whispered to Savannah, as they stepped onto the quiet patio. "It's too much."

  "Just breathe," Savannah told her, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths as well. She was happy that they had the patio to themselves.

  She'd been expecting the funeral to be difficult but running into Ryker had only made things worse. She'd thought he might show up, but she hadn’t let that stop her from coming. Abby needed her, and she owed Abby more than she could ever repay.

  "I should go back inside," Abby said, with a guilty gleam in her eyes. "My mother will be very upset with me for walking out like that."

  "She'll get over it. No one is going anywhere. You're entitled to take a little time for yourself."

  "It does feel better out here."

  "You're not too cold?" It was February, with the temp in the low sixties, and at half-past four, the sun was already starting to slip past the trees.

  "I don't mind the crisp air. It makes it easier to breathe. I feel like a coward, Savannah, hiding out here. I need to be stronger."

  "You're doing great. The service was lovely. The reception is very nice. There's food and alcohol, and everyone knows each other.
It's all going just as it should."

  "It's good to have you here, Savannah. I wasn't sure you'd make it. I know you're busy with work."

  "Work will be there when I get back to it. You're like my sister; you know that."

  "And you're mine. But speaking of family…"

  She saw the troubled look in Abby's eyes. "You don't have to say it. I know my father is probably coming."

  "He said he was. I didn't see him in the church, but he sent me a note of condolence and said he'd be attending the funeral. He was friends with Paul's father, and I guess he feels an obligation to pay his respects."

  "He's big on obligation when it comes to his fellow soldiers. And besides being friends with Paul's father, he liked Paul a lot. He always said Paul was one of his best students at sniper school."

  "Paul had a lot of respect for him, too, even though I told him what a shithead your dad had been to you."

  "I appreciate that, but I never wanted you or Paul to take sides."

  "I know. I always thought it was a little crazy that Paul could be such a good sniper, which required him to be still, patient, unemotional, detached…he was never that guy at home. He was always moving a mile a minute. He was warm and funny, and he got emotional when he saw a stray dog in the neighborhood."