Code Red Read online

  CODE RED

  by Veronica Forand

  To Sophia and Vivienne.

  Thanks for the enthusiasm, the character names, the mugs of coffee, the edits, more mugs of coffee, and the love. You guys are the best support team a writer could have.

  www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

  CODE RED

  Copyright © 2014 Veronica Forand

  All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

  ISBN 978-1-941260-43-2

  CODE RED

  by Veronica Forand

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  The half-filled parking lot at the pub on a Saturday night meant fewer free drinks and more time alone. Damn.

  Jess sauntered up to the nearly empty bar. High heels tapping the wood floor and skintight jeans that showed every one of her curves announced her availability. “Two whiskey shots, Adam.”

  The handsomest man in the place replied to her order with narrowed dark brown eyes and a frown. “Not tonight, Jess.”

  “I’m a paying customer. I want my drinks.”

  “You’re in pain. I understand, but drinking yourself into oblivion every weekend isn’t gonna fix a broken heart.”

  “If I was a man, you’d offer me a whiskey on the house and point me in the direction of the easiest woman in the place.” Jess leaned over the bar and provided Adam with the most menacing look she had. She looked pretty darn mean if the mirror behind him was accurate, but he just smiled.

  “Most everyone’s watching the fireworks in North Bay, so your chance at scoring a few drinks is limited, unless you’ve lowered your standards to include Jimmy, Joe, and Old Len over there.” He pointed to the three old men in the corner sipping their usual ginger ale tinged with a teaspoon of rum for flavor.

  “They’re not the only men in this place.” Switching her expression from badass to seductress by the lift of her eyebrows, she purred. “Too bad I couldn’t convince you to focus on someone other than your wife.”

  He poured two shots and slid them in front of her. “No thanks. The thought of Lily pointing a gun at my balls keeps me in line.”

  He had a point. His wife would kill him if he ever cheated on her. Not that he ever would. Lily was tall, blonde, and built like a World War II pinup girl. The kind of woman a man wanted around.

  Jess picked up one of the shots and tossed it down her throat. The burn trailed past a heart that had long since gone cold. She’d need the second shot to increase her confidence.

  A little company for the next few hours combined with the alcohol would help erase memories of the future denied her and allow her to crawl back to the apartment she’d lived in for ten long years to wait for her new life to begin. Until she could finish her teaching degree and find a job somewhere else, she’d have to be content with hovering in place. It felt like she’d been hovering her whole life. The men she met at the bar helped her escape lonely nights and provided her enough free alcohol to anesthetize her heartbreak.

  Men bought drinks for women who paid enough attention to them. And Jess knew exactly how much attention to provide. She played a mean game of pool, could debate hockey stats with any man in a fifty-town radius, and allowed a certain leniency on the dance floor. She didn’t offer anything else, and the men rarely complained. No expectations, no heartbreak.

  A few men propositioned her for more intimate things, but never for a real date. Jess wasn’t the marrying type. Robert—may he not rest in peace—had made sure to brand that into her soul through his actions and inactions.

  She walked over to the jukebox and stared at the two hundred songs available. Nothing matched her current mood. Part of her wanted to become drunk and lost in a stranger’s arms, but another part of her wanted to go home. She punched in Nazareth’s “Hair of the Dog.” Several of the customers moaned as the song blasted across the room. She didn’t care. The music would help block out the jerk’s memory.

  She returned to the bar. A third shot sat next to the two she’d purchased. Although a sliver of her conscience begged her to ignore it, the other darker part took up the challenge.

  “For me?” she called out to Adam.

  “From one of your fans.”

  The pub wasn’t full, but several of the booths had men sitting in them. She discounted any table with a woman. Men were oblivious at times but generally not suicidal. Two men in dark business suits sat in a booth near the back of the restaurant. One was tall, dark, and gorgeous, and the other was older and shorter with thinning blond hair. They both looked over at her. Bingo. Maybe the good-looking one would like some company for a few hours.

  Downing the second shot with a false bravado, she strutted toward the men’s table holding the third.

  “Careful, Jess,” Adam warned.

  She ignored him.

  The older of the two assessed her approach with ice blue eyes. He grinned as she came closer.

  The younger, more attractive guy didn’t appear too young, maybe late thirties or early forties. He narrowed his eyes and appeared as though he was trying to deflect her arrival with a laser beam glare.

  “Hi, guys,” she said, directing her voice and her gaze to the friendlier of the two. “Thanks for the drink.”

  The balding blond smiled, but Mr. Grumpy shook his head. “You have the wrong table, sweetheart. Why don’t you try your luck elsewhere?”

  A quick assessment of the rest of the tables revealed her mistake. The drink was from Carter Jackson. He tried to wave her over, but her stomach knotted as she recalled her night with him. His preoccupation with the color of her panties and whether he could fit into her shoes creeped her out. No, she wasn’t that desperate. Better to take a chance with the new guys in town.

  The blond moved his walking cane over so she could slide in next to him.

  She snuggled in close, but spoke to Mr. Grumpy. “Your friend likes my company.”

  Too bad the cute guy wasn’t interested. His friend leaned into her and caressed her shoulder, pushier than the usual guys she hung out with. She almost shoved him away and returned to the bar, but something in the cute one’s assessing eyes held her in place.

  “Max, leave the lady alone. We need to focus.” Mr. Grumpy’s voice was a low growl. A warning lit up inside Jess, but her body was sending mixed signals like the adrenaline rush one had before jumping over a cliff.

  “You spend your time the way you want. I prefer spending time with the girl.” Max had a Russian accent. He pulled her even closer, and his hand slipped around her waist.

  When he began to nibble her ear, Jess flinched. She tried to relax and let her inhibitions fall away, but the disgusted look of Mr. Grumpy remi
nded her of just how low she’d fallen in the past month. This was a bad idea.

  She tried to shift away, but Max had locked his arm around her waist.

  “I think she’s no longer interested,” Mr. Grumpy said.

  “She offered. I accepted.” Max sucked on her neck, causing a wave of nausea to roll through Jess’s stomach.

  The other man rubbed his brow, as though her presence was a huge inconvenience. “Are you okay?”

  Jess could deal with a lot, but not pity. She placed her arm over the Russian’s shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He had a bald spot at the top and the feel of her fingers gliding across a smooth, sweaty scalp did nothing to comfort her. “I’m fine. Jealous?”

  “No. I like my women willing.”

  He speared her with his eyes, straight into her soul, as though he could see her past, her present, and her future, and he didn’t like what he saw, and for the first time since Robert died Jess cared what a man thought of her. This man. The one not touching her. The one who seemed disgusted with her behavior.

  He glanced at the door and back at her. His expression softened.

  “Want to buy me a drink now?” Confidence filled her words. Would he pull her to his side of the table? Hopefully.

  With a shake of his head, he dismissed her. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you leave this bar right now and go home.”

  Did he think she was after money?

  “Screw you. Max here wants my company. Your opinion doesn’t matter.” But it did. His opinion ripped at her conscience and made her want to run home and mourn the loss of the beautiful future someone had promised her and failed to provide. Was this her future now, drinking away her memories and losing more of her self-worth bit by bit?

  Robert, the lying son of a bitch, had promised to marry her after he returned from graduate school in Toronto. As consistent as her monthly cycle, he’d stopped by the bank where she worked as a teller, stopped on his way to his mother’s house a few hours west and remained in town with Jess long enough to gain his own personal satisfaction. Jess had been nothing but a whore to him. He never would have married her. He was already married. She’d met his beautiful wife and daughter at his funeral.

  What a fool she’d been—for too many years. And she was still a fool. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her tears.

  Adam walked over to take orders.

  “Belvedere Unfiltered. And whatever the girl wants.” Max puffed out his chest and nuzzled Jess.

  Adam laughed. “You’re in Ohneka, the middle of nowhere Canada. If you want the fancy stuff, go to New York or California.”

  “Your best vodka then, whatever it is.”

  Jess needed more fuel to get through this bleak night. “Two more shots, Adam.”

  He shook his head. “One, and I’m driving you home.”

  “I’ll get a ride.” She glanced at Max, who answered her request with a grin. A disgusting grin. But did it matter anymore? If people thought of her as a tramp, she might as well play the part. Maybe that would make her feel better than returning home alone night after night.

  “And you?” Adam nodded toward Mr. Grumpy.

  “A large Coke. No ice.”

  Jess snorted. “Aren’t you the tough guy.”

  A dimple appeared on his left cheek at the arrival of a restrained grin. “I’m a control freak. The tough guy thing is just an offshoot.” He caught Adam’s attention. “I’d appreciate it if you gave Red here a ride home. She’s not coming with us.”

  Jess’s smile turned into a scowl. “I don’t think it’s your decision.”

  “My car, my decision.” He frowned at Max and then checked his watch. Perhaps he was meeting his own special someone and didn’t want her ruining his plans.

  Adam left, and Max pulled her onto his lap. His thick finger inched up her skirt. The more pressure he exerted, the more Jess wanted to rip his hand away and burn her skin with hot water to clean herself. She wouldn’t, however, give Max’s friend the satisfaction.

  ***

  “Red” looked like a beautiful fairy, almost Disney cute. Her red-streaked hair cascaded over her white lace blouse in flaming color, but her wide dark eyes blazed with a desperation Kieran had only seen in people shortly before they blew their brains out. He didn’t need to be a profiler to see that someone had hurt her. Her parents? An ex-boyfriend? A husband? Damn it, he had enough work to handle tonight. He didn’t need this type of distraction. And yet, here she was, right in the middle of his thoughts and refusing to leave.

  A flash of pain punctuated every tough word she spoke. For an inexplicable reason, the need to soothe her spirit fought with his need to get her the hell out of here. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In another life he’d have asked for her number and taken her to dinner. The reality of his career, however, made him permanently uncommitted. He’d tried his hand at marriage, but his wife filed divorce papers three days short of their first anniversary. She’d claimed he always placed the needs of the agency before her needs. And she’d been right.

  Red, however, wanted nothing to do with him. Under the circumstances, that was for the best.

  When the bartender returned with their drinks, Red tipped back her shot before he or Max lifted their glasses. Her shoulders shivered slightly as the last drops touched her lips. Lips the color of ripe cherries or Snow White’s poisoned apple.

  Kieran shook his head and refocused on his job. “We need to talk about the logistics.”

  Max ignored him and pawed Red. Kieran held back the urge to break his nose. Although the man was on borrowed time and might not have a chance to grope another woman for the rest of his life, Red didn’t want to be pawed. Kieran could read her trepidation as clearly as he could pick out the caliber of a round in a pile of ammunition.

  Her earlier bravado had begun to fade. She turned away from Max’s attempts at a kiss, allowing him access to her neck and ear yet denying him those luscious lips. But she seemed to be struggling with her decision. Although her arms fought to escape Max’s clasp, she giggled and nodded at his sweet promises.

  “If you can release your date for the evening, we can proceed with making plans for the next two hours.” Kieran tapped the table in front of him.

  Max looked up with a frown. “Kieran, my friend, we have plenty of time. If you lend me the keys to your car, I’ll be back within the hour.”

  Handing him the keys to his car would be the same thing as buying him a plane ticket to Fiji. Max would go free and Kieran would be fired. “You’re not leaving my side until everything’s set.”

  “All work and no play…”

  “Allows me to keep my job.”

  “What is your job?” Red glanced at Kieran. She struggled to pull away from Max without success. The smile pasted on her face faltered a few times, but she held herself together.

  Her awkward actions clawed at Kieran’s focus. If he’d just been nicer, Max and Red wouldn’t be embracing each other in his presence and making him crazy. Instead, she’d be with him and making him crazy in a completely different way. She needed to leave, for everyone’s sake.

  “My job is to take care of Max. And you’re making it much more difficult.”

  A slight smile lifted her expression to smug satisfaction, as though his frustration pleased her. “I offered to join you, but you refused.”

  “I don’t share.” Especially not beautiful, wounded women.

  She reached across the table. Her cherry red nails grazed the back of his hand. Her touch teased and tempted him. “And you don’t play well with others.”

  Max laughed. “Give me one hour. Then we can return here and all will be good.”

  “No.”

  Max grasped Red’s arm, forcing her toward the edge of the seat. Kieran reached across and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m not kidding. Do not get up from this table.”

  “I have to go to the men’s room. This young lady wants to show me the way, so I don’t
get lost.”

  Max twisted from Kieran’s grip and slid out of the booth, still holding Red’s arm. He then dragged the woman toward the restrooms.

  The bartender had disappeared, probably to the storeroom, leaving Kieran as Red’s protector for the next few minutes. He jumped up and followed. When he reached them, Max was pulling Red into the men’s room, and she was yanking on her arm to free herself.

  “Not here. Can’t we go to your hotel room?” She didn’t look as though she wanted to go to his hotel room either. Her eyes darted to Max and then Kieran.

  Max refused to let her go. “I already checked out, my dear. Come. It won’t take long.”

  The sparkle of a tear in the corner of Red’s eye caught Kieran’s attention, and rage ignited from the bottom of his gut. His normal iron control began to slip away.

  “She said ‘no.’ Don’t piss me off further.” He wrenched Max’s arm away from Red and touched his other hand to his waist over his concealed service revolver. Max had better refocus on the exchange or he’d return to the United States and face jail time.

  The Russian released the woman but scowled. “If I can’t have the girl, I want another drink.”

  “We’re leaving. We can go for a drive and return in an hour.”

  Red tried to move away, but Kieran stepped in front of her. “I’m sorry about Max. If things were different, I’d have begged you to sit on my side of the table.”

  “It’s no problem. I’m used to being the alternate in men’s lives. And thanks for the money offer. I don’t think I’ve ever been valued quite so high before.”

  The bartender hustled over a minute too late and created a wall in front of Red. His scowl grew at her fallen expression and slumped posture. Without acknowledging any of the men, she walked away, rubbing her wrist and touching the edge of her finger to one eye.

  “You two better leave unless you want to spend the night at the police station. No one is sweeter than Jess, and for you fools to treat her so poorly after all she’s been through…” The bartender pointed to the door. “Just get out.”