Marine Force Recon. Elle James

called Riley’s number and listened to it ring six times before it went to her voice mail. She called again and the voice mail picked up immediately.

      She left a message. “Riley, call me. I’m worried about you.”

      By midnight she was past being worried and beginning to become frantic. She called the police and reported her roommate as missing.

      “How long has she been missing?” the dispatcher asked.

      “At least five hours. She’s never late. She texted me this morning, saying she’d leave work on time tonight. Leaving work on time means she would have left more than five and a half hours ago.”

      “Could she have stopped at a friend’s house?” the dispatcher asked.

      “Not without calling to tell me,” Grace said.

      “Where is her last known location?” the woman on the other end of the line asked.

      “She was leaving work at Quest Aerospace Alliance.” Grace gave the address and waited.

      “We’ll have a unit check it out. If you hear from her, please let us know to call off the search.”

      “Thank you.”

      The dispatcher ended the call.

      The simple act of reporting her friend as missing did nothing to allay Grace’s fears. She couldn’t stay in the apartment, waiting. She had to go out and look for herself. If the police found her in the meantime, they would contact her on her cell phone. She’d have it with her.

      Grace scribbled a note to Riley and left it on the counter. If Riley came home while Grace was out, she was to call her immediately.

      Grace shrugged into her jacket, grabbed her purse, slipped the Taser Riley had gifted her at Christmas inside the front pocket and left the apartment, heading...

      Hell, she didn’t even know which way to go.

      Squaring her shoulders, she walked through the dark streets to the train station, her gaze searching the shadows for potential threats. When she reached the metro stop, she climbed aboard the train headed toward Quest Aerospace Alliance. She’d start there and work her way backward, praying she’d find Riley at a bar or hanging out with a friend.

      Deep down, Grace knew she wouldn’t. She was Riley’s friend and they didn’t have anyone else they hung out with.

      Grace tucked her hand into the pocket of her purse, curling her fingers around the Taser it concealed. Riley had an identical device. She’d been the one who’d often insisted that they needed some kind of protection in the big city.

      Grace didn’t feel any safer, but a Taser was better than nothing. She just had to be prepared to use it. Perhaps Riley hadn’t been as prepared. When she found Riley, she’d be sure to ask. Because she would find Riley. Alive.

      * * *

      DECLAN SPENT TWO hours in a holding room, where he was repeatedly grilled about his part in the attack in downtown DC. Thankfully, he’d had his wallet on him, but the majority of his money was in his rucksack. If...no...when he was released, he only had a five-dollar bill to get something to eat, but no money to get around. He might as well stay the night in the jail. At least he’d get a free meal and a bed to sleep on, out of the cold, rain or whatever the weather was doing outside.

      The police had allowed him to make one phone call. When he’d dialed his number, the phone service indicated his phone was not online at that time. Meaning the battery was dead and the woman he’d entrusted all of his worldly goods to had yet to find or charge it.

      His one call wasted, he was escorted back to the holding room, where he was questioned all over again by yet another detective.

      “What organization are you with?” the detective asked.

      “I’m not with any organization,” Declan responded.

      “Witnesses reported you were armed with a submachine gun. One like the other attackers carried.”

      “I was in the right place at the wrong time. I watched those men kill the security detail surrounding a limousine, and then they kidnapped that woman. While others stood around gawking, I took it upon myself to do something.”

      “So, you just waltzed in with your submachine gun and jumped into the back of a van?” The man snorted. “Highly unlikely.”

      “I was unarmed. However, I was able to disarm one of the attackers and confiscate his weapon.”

      “Convenient.” The detective’s lips pressed into a thin line. “By all accounts, the attackers were highly trained. How is it you were able to relieve one of them of his weapon?”

      Declan shrugged. “You obviously aren’t buying anything I have to say. Why should I bother talking to you?” He looked past the detective. “I want to talk to a lawyer.”

      The detective glared. “You’ll be talking soon enough.”

      Though his hackles rose on the back of Declan’s neck, he stared back at the detective, wiping all emotion from his face. “I’ll talk when I have a lawyer.”

      The detective smirked. “You got one?”

      “I will as soon as you let me make a call.”

      “You had your chance to make a call.”

      Declan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

      The detective leaned forward, his lip curling back in a snarl. “Look here, jerk, I have ten dead tourists, nineteen injured, and the DC mayor and the President of the United States breathing down my neck for answers.”

      Declan clamped his lips tight. He was done talking.

      The door opened behind the detective and an older man in uniform stuck his head in the door. “Solomon, a word with you.”

      The detective gave Declan a narrow-eyed glance. “We’re not through here.”

      As far as Declan was concerned, they were.

      Detective Solomon left the room. A moment later, a different officer entered. “Mr. O’Neill, please come with me.”

      Declan rose, fully expecting to be led to the rear of the building and stuck in a cell. His stomach rumbled. He was all for being incarcerated if it meant getting a meal out of it.

      Instead, the man led him out of the holding area and back to the front of the building.

      A group of men in dark suits stood in a cluster around a woman. She waved them aside and strode toward him, her head held high, her blood-stained clothes worn like a suit of armor.

      She was the woman he’d saved from the kidnappers.

      “Declan O’Neill?” she asked.

      “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

      “You have been cleared of any charges. These kind officers are releasing you.” She raised her eyebrows and stared around at the policemen standing by, as if challenging them to say anything different.

      “I don’t understand,” he said.

      “What do you not understand about your being released?” she asked. “I told them that you saved my life and fought valiantly against my attackers, risking your own life to save mine.” She frowned. “I’m appalled they took you into custody to begin with. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who witnessed your heroism. Between my account and those of others who were nearby, you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing.”

      “Thank you, ma’am.”

      “Please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me sound like your grandmother.” She sniffed. “As well I could be. But that’s neither here nor there. My name is Charlotte, but my friends call me Charlie. I prefer Charlie. And if you don’t have a ride, I would gladly take you anywhere you want to