Compromised Identity. Jodie Bailey

sat taller, much preferring the vision of Sean Turner’s blue eyes to the dark, menacing ones of the man who’d approached her with a knife. She shouldn’t think of the Staff Sergeant that way, though. There was a wariness to him, a way that he had of seeming vigilant at all times. Turner had trouble written all over him; she just couldn’t pinpoint why.

      Best not to think about those eyes or that incredibly cute just-over-regulation-length dirty blond hair of his. It wasn’t often, even with the Special Forces unit on Campbell, that she got to see a guy with actual hair on his head.

      Tossing her head, Jessica surveyed the few people still waiting in the rows of gray chairs as the clock ticked nearer to close of business. At the reception window, a man turned his head quickly, the motion catching her eye. She stared hard, waiting for him to turn back around. Did she know him? Something about the brief glimpse of his face was vaguely familiar. She ran through a roster of the soldiers in her unit, but none seemed to fit his description, and besides, the majority of them were deployed.

      He glanced back at her again, giving her a better view of his face as his dark eyes met hers, glittering in recognition. Rather than hail her, though, he stared hard, seeming to memorize the lines on her face. Even from across the room, he chilled the blood just beneath her skin.

      As if confirming something in his mind, he turned from her, then walked away, straight across the room and out the door.

      The tension in her muscles relaxed. Her imagination was hyped into overdrive today Although she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen that man before, the image was right on the edge of her memory yet refusing to gel.

      Ellen stood, breaking Jessica’s concentration, and lifted her purse as she tilted her head to the oversize TV screen above the door that led to the main ID facility. “My number just came up. I go through that door, right?”

      Jessica stood. “Yep. Are you sure you don’t want me to go back with you.”

      “I’m fine now. It was just kind of nerve-racking at first, afraid I’d do the wrong thing after they turned me away and told me I needed more paperwork last time.” She reached to give Jessica a sideways hug, then stopped, opting for a small wave instead. “Thank you, Staff Sergeant Dylan. You’re a lifesaver.” Ellen was gone before the words were fully out of her mouth.

      Not for the first time, a sparse loneliness brushed Jessica’s heart. She felt so out of place sometimes as a woman on an Army post. Pulling her beret from her side leg pocket, she ran it through her fingers and headed up the hallway toward the exit. Sure she had friends, but whenever she put on the uniform, something seemed to happen. Other women never seemed to know how to react around her, seemed to forget she was a female who’d appreciate a hug and girl talk just as much as the rest of them. Just because she was a soldier, it didn’t make her any less of a woman.

      Though the balance was tough. She had to be strong enough to hang with the boys but woman enough to be one of the girls. She pressed her lips together as she pushed out the door into the cold, gray fall afternoon, grinding her black beret tight onto her head. On days like today, when her life was spinning in strange directions and she wanted to do the perceived “girl” thing and break down over all that had happened, the tightrope was even harder to walk.

      At the end of the duty day on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the parking lot was virtually empty, only a handful of other cars filling the spaces. It appeared everybody else wanted what she wanted. Home.

      She checked her watch again as she headed for the far end of the parking lot. If she could get there in the next half hour, dinner for her Bible study girls would be right on schedule. It would take a run of green lights to get her that far that fast, though. Some days, living closer to post would be a blessing.

      Pulling her keys from her pocket, Jessica clicked the door locks on her small gray sedan, her steps slowing as she drew closer. The car click of the locks was muted, the sound it made when it was already unlocked. She vividly remembered locking it because a young private had jumped ten feet in the air when the horn blasted as she did. Normally, she wouldn’t think twice but today—something seemed off, that gut feeling she often got when things in her world just weren’t right.

      Then again, her radar had to be out of whack with Sean Turner feeding her ghost stories. That man was messing with her head in more ways than one. Shaking off the chill that tried to claw up her spine, Jessica pulled open the car door and glanced into the backseat as the lights illuminated the interior.

      A man crouched low behind the driver’s seat. Dark eyes glittered at her, more chilling than the air, the same eyes that had been locked on her in the waiting room. He lunged over the seat toward her, grasping the edge of her sleeve and pulling her forward.

      Jessica’s shoulder collided with the side of the car, the jolt to her already-injured muscles arcing through her to steal her breath. Her throat closed, trapping the scream that swelled and fought to escape. Digging in her heels, Jessica used her height advantage and threw her body backward, momentum causing her to stagger to the ground as the rough fabric of her uniform slipped through the man’s fingers. She hit hard, jarring her teeth together, scrambling to get up before the man could exit her vehicle and keep her down for good.

      The car door pushed open as Jessica rose to her knees, but another body charged in from her left, foot clipping her knee and buckling her helpless to the ground.

      * * *

      Sean dove at the door, catching it with his hands and landing on his side as it slammed shut on Jessica’s attacker. He rolled to his feet as the man in the vehicle scrambled out the passenger door and got a running start, Sean’s boots skidding on loose gravel as he scrambled up to pursue.

      The man leaped into a small SUV that sat waiting, door open and engine running, and skidded out of the parking lot as Sean pitched sideways to keep from being hit, sliding along the ground on his still-healing shoulder. He fought the intense desire to curl up against the pain, struggling to read the license plate of the fleeing vehicle. He was on his knees when Jessica thudded up beside him.

      Sean reached for his phone to call the military police, and then abandoned the idea within the next second. The gate to get off post was too close to their position. Before he got through to anyone, that vehicle would be long gone, and all he’d have was more attention turned on Jessica when this investigation still needed to be under wraps. Without knowing who was involved, he couldn’t call in help unless he needed backup or had a suspect in custody. He abandoned the idea and turned his attention to Jessica.

      She was pale, the hand she held out to him shaking.

      He wanted to ignore the help, to prove that he could do this all by himself, but he knew it would insult her if he didn’t accept it. The thread that held them together was tenuous enough already, and protecting it was worth the perceived bruise to his ego.

      She helped haul him to his feet as he winced against the pressure on his shoulder. Her gaze went there immediately, her hand following to rest on his upper arm. “Are you hurt?”

      “Old injury.” He shook off the warmth of her fingers before he could decide he liked it and turned the focus back where it belonged—on her. “Are you okay? What just happened?”

      “I opened my car door, and he was in there.” The statement might have been matter-of-fact, but the tension around her mouth telegraphed that this had upset her more than she was letting on. “I had the situation under control. Where did you come from?”

      From his car five spaces away from hers, but that probably wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment, not with Jessica bound and determined to take care of herself.

      He didn’t have to say a thing anyway. Her expression hardened. “You’re following me?”

      “And aren’t you glad?” Seriously. She could at least be a little bit appreciative that he’d saved her life. Again.

      “I’d be happier if you hadn’t let the guy get away.”

      The words were born more out of adrenaline than malice and Sean knew it,