Jenna Kernan - Dangerous Conditions

It’s a race against time

To uncover the truth.

Former soldier Logan Lynch has no memory of the past nine years of his life. Now working as a sleepy town’s constable, his life turns upside down when a man is found dead. Before long, microbiologist Dr. Paige Morris gets involved, claiming her boss’s death isn’t what it seems. But as Paige herself becomes the victim of sabotage, she needs Logan’s help…before it’s too late.

JENNA KERNANhas penned over two dozen novels and received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley in New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan, on Facebook or at jennakernan.com.

Also by Jenna Kernan

Defensive Action

Adirondack Attack

Warning Shot

Surrogate Escape

Tribal Blood

Undercover Scout

Black Rock Guardian

Turquoise Guardian

Eagle Warrior

Firewolf

The Warrior’s Way

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Dangerous Conditions

Jenna Kernan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09460-3

DANGEROUS CONDITIONS

© 2019 Jeannette H. Monaco

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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For Jim, always.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

About the Publisher

Constable Logan Lynch drew on the cowboy hat that had been given to him by his older brother Connor, a village supervisor, because he said it covered the scar on Logan’s forehead. Off-putting, Connor had said. “No need to frighten the kids and tourists.” Plus, the Stetson made him look more like a real lawman. The board had approved his position last September. He was a village constable with no law enforcement experience whatsoever. He seemed to be the only one bothered by that. Still, he needed a job. Not much work in his hometown of 429 for a veteran with a TBI—Traumatic Brain Injury.

Most folks here catered to weekend tourists or worked for Rathburn-Bramley Pharmaceuticals.

“Morning, Constable,” Paige called from across the main street.

She was so pretty and so darn smart. A real scientist, just like she always wanted to be. Meanwhile, he couldn’t distinguish between a rooster crow and a truck backfiring. He wondered if she knew that her hair turned red in the early-morning sunlight.

“Don’t you look spiffy. Where’s your star?”

“Under my coat,” he said. “It’s on a chain. Nobody asks to see it anymore but you.” Why had he added that?

Paige’s smile blinded him. He was a deer in the headlights.

“Big weekend coming up,” she said, still walking as he crossed the street. He couldn’t help it. These few minutes with Paige were the highlight of his entire day. He remembered that she had been his brother’s date at his senior prom during their sophomore year. He’d been told by his dad that he and Paige had dated, too. His dad said they’d been serious enough to be briefly engaged. But he didn’t remember any of that. He wished he might. If he could retrieve just one memory, it would be of them together. He and Paige were the same age, twenty-eight, and had graduated from the village’s central school together. He didn’t remember that either or what ended their engagement. All he knew for certain was that if she didn’t want him then, she sure wouldn’t want him now. She’d gone on to be a biochemist with a doctorate, paid for by her company and he was a constable who had only just regained his driver’s license. All that didn’t stop Logan from admiring her. She was Dr. Morris now, and a mom.

As her neighbor, he knew that she was great with her daughter, Lori. His brother and Paige were now just friends, though not from Connor’s lack of trying. Logan might have to settle for that because asking her out and being turned down would kill him. As it was, he feared her concern was spawned by pity. Somehow he’d become the community project.

“You all ready?” she asked, coming to a stop and allowing him to catch up with her. She was running late today so their conversation would be brief.

“Almost. We got those…” And the words left him. He pointed vaguely at the pile of orange cones and no-parking signs that he’d be stringing up on Main Street. The event shut down traffic for the entire day on Saturday.

Harvest Festival was a village-wide extravaganza that had everything from soapmaking to a turkey-call competition.

“Signage?” She offered the words to him as she often did. She was quick as a whip. Had three degrees in microbiology that she’d earned while he was getting blown up in Iraq.