Tactical Rescue. Maggie K. Black

had been the wrong call. It had been twenty years since Zack’d let his heart have any say in his decision making, and it had probably been a mistake to start now. But still...

      “The Rebecca I knew was a reasonable person with a good heart,” he said. “I know you’ve advised me to keep her in the dark, and I understand why. But I’m not convinced it’ll jeopardize the investigation by telling her who I am and why I’m here. Honestly, she’ll go squirrelly if I’m not straight with her.”

      Rebecca’s tenacity could be pretty unrelenting. Considering how hard she’d hammered him for information on the road, he could just imagine how the truck ride to Timmins would go.

      “When in doubt,” Jeff said, “imagine explaining every single call you make in the next hour, in a long, drawn-out, extremely uncomfortable tribunal on this whole Seth Miles mess, and answering the question why a solider who’s withstood intense questioning by foreign militants couldn’t withstand the badgering of a cute girl with pretty eyes.”

      Zack snorted. “She’s more than cute. But point taken. We’ll be in Timmins in a little over an hour.”

      Then, sometime after his next deployment, he’d write her a nice long letter, apologizing for not being straight with her, not to mention infecting her laptop with some kind of Slavic virus. Hopefully, she’d forgive him.

      “And you’re convinced she’s not complicit in her brother’s crimes?” Jeff asked.

      “One hundred percent.”

      “Okay. I hope for your sake you’re right. Just don’t let Rebecca or that laptop out of your sight. If you see Seth, don’t engage unless you have no other option. Again, I can’t authorize you for a mission, because it’s not our investigation, and I can’t dictate what you do with your personal leave. As your friend, feel free to call me anytime. But if this escalates, I’m going to have to get involved as your commanding officer. Got it?”

      “Got it.” Zack ran one hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for giving you an extra headache and I won’t do anything that brings the unit into disrepute.”

      “You’re the only man I know who could go on leave, to the middle of nowhere in Northern Ontario, and land in the middle of a major international crisis.”

      “Ha, ha,” Zack said. “Thanks for calling. I mean it.”

      “Anytime. See you back at base.”

      The call ended. He put the laptop back into its hard case, zipped it up and then slid it into the truck’s glove compartment, happy to see she’d had the smarts to install a combination lock on it. He shoved his bag deep under the passenger seat and then got out of the truck. The door to Rebecca’s camper was closed. He strode toward it.

      He had to admit, he kind of hated how all this was unfolding. If only Rebecca had recognized him. But a woman like her had probably been approached by so many male suitors in the past twenty years that one shy guy from when she was a teenager would have been long forgotten.

      Lord, help me handle this situation honorably, honestly and with a whole lot of wisdom.

      He wouldn’t disclose what he couldn’t disclose. But he also wouldn’t lie. And if that led to being barraged by questions for the whole truck ride to Timmins, so be it. He knocked on the door.

      “Hey, Rebecca, you about ready to go?”

      No answer. He silently counted to three and then opened the door. The camper was empty. He stepped inside. A window behind the sink was open. He nearly groaned. You’ve got to be kidding me! Oh, he’d had more than a few targets try to escape his grasp during his career. A few had even managed to land a blow or two before getting restrained. But none had ever made it as far as the threshold, let alone stepping one foot out the door.

      And here Rebecca had actually evaded him by climbing out a window?

      Something cold and metal brushed the back of his neck.

      “Don’t move,” Rebecca said. “And get your hands up.”

      And now he would’ve been tempted to laugh if the situation wasn’t so serious. His hands rose, just enough to show that he’d heard her. Surely she’d know how easily someone with his training could disarm her. The only reason for him to even hesitate was to minimize the risk of her getting hurt. Not to mention that if they got into a physical altercation he’d probably have to report it, and that would hardly help her case when it came to proving her innocence in Seth’s crimes. “Rebecca, look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m not about to hurt you.”

      What was she even holding? Definitely metal, but not sharp enough of an edge to be a knife. Cylindrical, but it didn’t feel like the barrel of a gun, either.

      “I want to believe you.” Her body brushed up against his back. Her breath tickled his ear. The scent of her hair filled his lungs. “But you haven’t exactly been honest with me, Sergeant.”

      “Okay, you’re right, I didn’t answer all of your questions earlier. I’m sorry, there are just some things I can’t tell you.” He spun around, grabbed both her wrists in one swift motion and held her hands above their heads. “Now, drop your weapon.”

      Rebecca was pinned against his chest, so close that if he’d just leaned forward a couple of inches he could’ve kissed her nose. She’d donned a simple gray windbreaker since he’d seen her last. The hood was pulled up over her head and closed tight, leaving a few black wisps of hair framing her face. Rebecca buried her face deep inside his chest. Something clicked above him. He glanced up. There was a small, metal canister of high-potency bug spray in her hands. She fired, using his chest to shield her own face. Bug spray filled the air above them, burning his eyes and choking his throat. Her wrists slipped from his grasp. Then she bolted out of the camper, through the trees.

      Wow. Somebody had apparently kept her skills since they’d last sparred. Not to mention adding a new skill or two. He’d never been sprayed like a bug before. He chased after her. His eyes watered. His vision blurred. “Rebecca, wait! I’m—” A fit of coughing stole the words from this throat.

      Lord, help me figure out how to stop Rebecca and calm her down before someone gets hurt.

      He ran after her. She didn’t even try to double back to her truck. Instead, she cut straight through the trees, as though she was trying to reach the main road. She was faster than he remembered. She’d always been lithe. But the years had added strength to her limbs.

      “Rebecca! Stop!” Surely she had to know there was no point running. He was going to catch up with her. She burst out of the trees and started down the road. Then he heard a vehicle.

      Oh no. No, no, no... Why is there another vehicle on this road?

      “Help!” Her voice echoed through the trees. “Help! Stop!”

      Tires screeched. Zack pushed his legs faster. But it was too late. A red moving van had reached the rock barrier and seemed to be turning around. Smiling stick-figure animals on the side advertised Woodland Home Movers.

      “Rebecca! Wait!”

      She reached the van. The back door opened. He couldn’t let her leap into a random van, no matter the cost.

      He stopped chasing her, stood on the road and gasped a breath.

      “Becs!” he shouted. “It’s me! Zack! Zack Biggs!”

      She turned back. The hood slipped from her head. Hair fell loose around her face. “Zack? It’s actually you.”

      “Yeah.” He risked taking a step toward her, as though she was a nervous animal he didn’t want to spook. Just please don’t get in that van. “My name is Zack Keats now. New name. New look. But yeah, it’s still me.”

      “I thought... I mean, I kind of knew...” Her dark eyes opened wide like a camera lens struggling to bring a picture into focus. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

      “Well,