Carla Cassidy - Mercenary's Perfect Mission

Still her distrust of men in general ran deep. It had begun with her absent father, a man she had never known, and continued with Jeff Winfry, the man who had fathered Sam and Ethan. He’d promised to love her, to marry her and settle down as a family. She’d met him just after her mother’s death and even though she’d known he wasn’t Mr. Perfect, she’d believed herself in love.

There had been no settling down. Jeff had dragged her and the children from one small town to another, working odd jobs that barely kept them fed and finally he’d dumped her and the kids just outside of Cold Plains, telling her his future just didn’t include a family. Her father, Jeff and then Samuel. She was determined not to give her trust so easily again.

Micah Grayson was just as formidable from the back as he was from the front, she thought as she followed him. His shoulders were broad, his hips slim and she had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged gait.

She gasped in surprise as he opened a door and they stepped outside into the bright sunshine. They were in a small clearing filled with a babbling brook on one side and a healthy looking vegetable and herb garden on the other.

“What a beautiful place,” she exclaimed.

He nodded and motioned her to a fallen tree trunk that had been fashioned into a bench. “According to June, they try to be as self-sustaining as possible here. So, she grows what she can and depends on some of us to provide the other necessities from neighboring towns.”

She sat next to him on the bench and placed Sam on the grass at her feet where he immediately became enchanted with a leaf that had fallen from one of the nearby trees.

“Aren’t you all afraid somebody might see this place?” she asked.

Micah shook his head, his dark hair gleaming in the sunshine. “We’re sitting in a small valley between two mountains.” He pointed to the jagged edge of the range that surrounded them. “The only way to get here is through the cave and you saw last night how difficult it was to find.”

Although they sat several inches apart, despite the scent of the fresh herbs in the air, she could smell him, that woodsy, clean male scent that curled a ball of tension in her stomach.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked, eager to get this conversation over with and away from the man who seemed to both draw her and scare her just a little bit.

“I had your story checked out by a friend of mine, Hawk, the FBI agent. One of many trying to build a case against Samuel for the murders of those five women, among other things.” He stretched his long legs out before him, appearing to be completely at ease.

“And what did he discover?” In contrast, she was a bundle of nerves and wanted to curl into herself to escape everything that had happened in the past two days.

“That you are what you say you are.” His green eyes drifted downward, making her suddenly far too conscious of how tightly her borrowed T-shirt pulled across her breasts. She hunched her shoulders forward slightly.

His gaze lingered there for just a second and then snapped back up to meet her eyes. “You worked as a secretary in the Community Center, meaning you obviously worked closely with Samuel. You might have some valuable information that could help all of us.”

“So, basically what you’re saying is that you would like me to help you and your FBI friends.” She held his gaze intently. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you if you’ll get my son out of Cold Plains and back safely here with me. But, until that happens, I have nothing more to say to you.”

His stare grew harder, colder but she refused to look away. If he wanted to use her, then she had no qualms about using him first.

Samuel Grayson stood at the window in the large meeting room in the Community Center where an hour before he’d finished one of his nightly seminars. Although he’d given a rousing speech about love of community and building good lives here, the crowd had been smaller than usual and the sales of the healing tonic water after the meeting had been pathetic.

You’re losing control, a little voice whispered inside his head. “No,” he said aloud. It was just growing pains and the result of the investigation he knew was taking place. People were on edge because of the FBI presence in and around town, and that meant he’d just have to work harder to assure them that he had things under control.

Dammit, he’d thought he’d removed any danger to himself and his plans when he’d sent Dax Roberts, one of his most trusted men, to kill his brother. He’d known that if Micah had caught word of the investigations into the murders he wouldn’t be able to keep his nose out of things. It had been easier to take him out before he became a problem.

Unfortunately, he knew he was under investigation for the murders of those women. He knew there were people in his own town working against him and it was getting more and more difficult to tell who could and couldn’t be trusted.

His remaining henchmen—those not already in jail—had been working overtime, taking out the people who were overtly working against him, those who had taken a path in direct opposition of him.

He felt as if the walls of the town were slowly closing in on him and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He’d worked too hard and too long to be brought down by anyone. This was his town and he deserved all the power and money that had come along with it. He wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from him.

He turned from the window, and as he walked out of the meeting room, he paused and stared at the desk where Olivia Conner usually sat.

Yet another mystery, he thought. She’d simply vanished into thin air, leaving behind one of her children. He had no idea what had happened to her, had no idea if she was dead or alive. He’d put the child with the other one, hidden away in a secured location until he could find out what had happened to Olivia.

He’d had a couple of his men check her house and they had reported back that nothing seemed to be missing—no clothes and no baby items. There had been a Crock-Pot plugged in with what appeared to be Swiss steak charred to a crisp. They’d unplugged the pot but had touched nothing else.

It was possible she’d been grabbed off the street by the FBI because of her position at the Community Center. The joke would be on them. She knew nothing except how to schedule therapy sessions for him with the locals or renting out the space in the basement that was used for weddings and celebrations.

They’d get nothing from her that could harm him. She’d been simply the office help, although he’d been close to turning her completely, and once that happened he wouldn’t have minded a little intimate time with her. She’d been a hot little number despite her two brats.

Whatever had happened to her, it had appeared she’d had every intention of returning home the day that she had disappeared. If he didn’t hear from her soon, he would make the appropriate plans for Ethan. He would fetch a lot of money, a handsome little boy in perfect health. Just this thought alone made him feel more in control.

He was going to be fine. The people against him would eventually drift away and he would continue his work here in Cold Plains. He wouldn’t be satisfied until everyone in town sported the small D tattoo on their hip that marked them as his.

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