Cassie Miles - The Final Secret

Noah would have preferred a sit-down dinner where his team could easily keep an eye on the two hundred or so attendees. Instead, ARC needed to prepare for a roomful of Type-A personalities, accompanied by their equally aggressive spouses, all of whom would be competing in the auction, stating political views and matching wits. Even if there was no gunplay or exploding bombs, so much could go wrong.

For a moment, the red-and-gold glow of sunset flashed outside the west windows and distracted him. Beautiful and dangerous, the brilliant April skies were an omen that hinted at the onset of fire season. Instead of considering the potential for disaster, he focused on Gennie, noting her confident manner as she glided among the small circular tables in the center of the high-ceilinged, marble-floored ballroom. Her injured ankle didn’t seem to bother her, and he figured she was wearing a compression wrap under her ankle-high boots that were low-heeled but classy. She looked like a million bucks in a form-hugging black jumpsuit and a patterned black-and-beige cashmere vest that was long enough to cover her holstered weapon.

She paused in her inspection of the tables. With a toss of her head that sent a ripple through her curly blond hair, she glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. He nodded in her direction and reminded himself to keep a careful distance from this woman who was as beautiful as a Rocky Mountain sunset. Another harbinger of danger! Getting involved with an employee would be a seriously dumb decision, but there was no harm in scrutinizing her every move. That was his job.

From over his shoulder, he heard a gruff voice. “I never expected to see Captain Genevieve Fox in my home.”

“General Haymarket.” Noah shook hands with the vigorous older gentleman who was hosting this event. Haymarket was dressed in slacks and a striped golf shirt that stretched tightly across his barrel chest. He looked comfortable. The casual outfit suited him better than the dress uniform he’d be changing into before the event. Whether or not he was paranoid, this four-star general had paid his dues and put in his time. He was due for retirement.

“Did Gennie use me for a reference?” he asked.

“No, sir, she didn’t.”

“Are you aware that I have a history with her?”

She’d spoken to him about her complicated relationship with her former commanding officer. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not on my end, but she’s not real fond of me. The last time we spoke, she called me a bald-headed male chauvinist baboon. With all due respect, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I hate baboons.” The general scowled. “She was mad because I wouldn’t approve her return to active duty. After the bomb, she looked like hell. I couldn’t allow her to put herself in harm’s way, couldn’t stand to see her hurt again.”

“She’s made a successful recovery,” Noah said. A remarkable woman.

“You don’t have a problem with her special condition?”

He didn’t intend to say too much about Gennie’s insensitivity to pain and her nerve damage. If she wanted to talk about her two years of operations, hard work and physical therapy with the general, that was her business. “The ARC doctor gave her a complete physical and rated her above average.”

At the opposite end of the room, Gennie was paying particular attention to the floral arrangement beside the podium where the guest of honor, Mitch Murano, would be speaking. She leaned close to the thick green foliage, yellow flowers and dark red roses. Pulling back, she scowled at the posies as though they’d done something wrong. From there, she went to the silent auction tables where a variety of items were lined up side by side. Again, she inspected the flowers. She straightened her shoulders and made a beeline for him and the general.

The burly general who had commanded thousands of troops in Iraq and Afghanistan gave a shudder. “Do you think she’s still angry?”

“You’re not scared of her, are you, General?”

“Don’t let those big blue eyes fool you. Pretty little Gennie is lethal. A few years ago, I saw her take down a trained combatant twice her size using only a broom handle for a weapon.”

“I’m aware,” Noah said. “Four days ago, she kicked my ass.”

When she came to a halt in front of them, she raised her right hand so quickly that he thought for a moment that she was going to salute, even though the general wasn’t in uniform and she was no longer a soldier. Or maybe she was going for a karate chop. Instead, she opted for a civilized handshake and a tentative smile.

“A pleasure to see you, sir.”

“Likewise,” he said. “Noah tells me that you’re working for him.”

“I am. And I have a security question about the floral displays. Should I speak to you about my concerns?”

“Not me. I don’t know a damn thing about the decorations.”

“Your wife?”

“Ruby didn’t have anything to do with tonight. She’s not even going to be here.”

His wife’s absence seemed odd to Noah. The spectacularly beautiful Ruby Haymarket usually grabbed any chance to break out the tiara and be the belle of the ball.

“I’ll miss her,” Gennie said. “I hope she’s not ill.”

“Fit as a fiddle and feisty, too. Her problem is that she doesn’t share my political views. I believe Mitch Murano will make a damn fine senator. Ruby thinks he’s a con man.”

The general’s wife had a point. In Noah’s opinion, Murano had perfected the art of playing both sides against each other. While vigorously supporting gun rights, Murano ran a worldwide institute encouraging peaceful meditation and enlightenment. His detractors referred to his seesaw policies as NRA Namaste .

The general signaled to a man with a clipboard. “You remember Captain Dean Slocum, don’t you? He handled the food and decorations for this fund-raiser.”

Slocum strutted toward them. His uniform was crisp. His grooming was perfect with his close-cropped pale blond hair as smooth as a platinum skull cap. He was so white that he was nearly albino. In the midst of bustling caterers and waiters making last minute preparations, Slocum appeared to be in control. He’d been the general’s right-hand man for a long time and had grown smug in his job.

His sneering attitude wasn’t the only reason Noah disliked the captain. After he shook Slocum’s hand, he started to introduce Gennie.

“We’re acquainted,” she said coldly.

“I’ve known her for years.” Slocum matched her coolness with an ice storm of his own. “Gennie’s a hero and has the Purple Heart to prove it.”

She flinched. Though she didn’t feel pain in a third of her body, Noah could see that her memories of combat and working in a war zone still hurt. The nightmares and the guilt were harder to cure than physical impairments.

The general spoke to the captain. “Gennie has questions about the flowers, and I told her to ask you about them.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Gennie, I hope we can talk later.” He backed out of the conversation. “Right now, I’d better run upstairs and get changed.”

“Give Ruby my regards,” she said with a smile that faded as she turned back to Slocum. “When you ordered the arrangements, did you specify colors or types of flowers?”

“No.” With the general gone, Slocum didn’t bother to hide his hostility. His blue eyes narrowed to slits in his colorless face. “I told them that the flowers were for a fund-raiser and gave them the size and number of the arrangements. When I mentioned Mitch Murano, the flower people were thrilled. He’s a celebrity. I hope he brings his supermodel girlfriend. Have you ever seen her?”