Reluctant Hero. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

to find the show with their report from that trip to Iraq and start fitting the pieces together. When he went to her office in the morning, he would insist on hearing everything about her trip to Iraq and why she was so eager to believe the worst of him and his team.

      He stalked down the street, needing to walk off the anger simmering in his system. It wouldn’t be smart to call for a car or catch a bus so close to her apartment. From his pocket, his phone rang. Seeing Theo’s name and face on the screen, he picked up immediately.

      “How did things go?” he asked. There was a long pause on the other end of the line and he heard several voices in the background. “Theo?”

      “Mr. Lawton?”

      Parker froze. This wasn’t Theo. “Yes?”

      “My apologies, sir. This is Detective Calvin Baird of the SFPD. I’m calling from Theo Manning’s phone, as we’ve just opened an investigation.”

      A detective’s involvement could mean any number of new problems and most likely the work of a busy blackmailer. “What kind of investigation?” He put his back to the wall of the nearest building and studied the action around him on the street.

      The detective ignored the question. “According to his phone log, you spoke with him recently.”

      “That’s true.” Parker’s stomach clutched and his pulse kicked into fight mode. “Where is Theo? Can I talk to him?”

      “I’m sorry to say it, but he’s dead,” Baird replied.

      No. Parker couldn’t catch his breath. His hand gripped the phone hard and he slid down to land on his backside as the grief stunned him. He was on the phone with a homicide detective. What had happened to the five days the blackmailer had given him?

      “Mr. Lawton?”

      “Yeah.” He swallowed the emotion choking him. “I’m here. What do you know? Where is he?” Was. Theo was gone. Parker cleared his throat. “How did it happen?”

      “Nine-one-one received a call about shots fired about forty minutes ago. By the time the responding officers and paramedics arrived, it was too late. I am sorry for your loss.”

      “Was I the last to call him?”

      “According to his phone log, you were one of two people trying to reach him.”

      “Who was the other?”

      “I’m not ready to comment on that yet,” Baird said. “I just arrived on the scene and we have very little to go on right now. Do you have time to come by the Bayview Police Station tomorrow morning? I should have more details for you by then.”

      Bayview? That hardly narrowed it down. The large district covered the port where Theo worked along with the southeastern part of the city. “Yes, of course.” Parker knew the drill. If he wasn’t a suspect, he was a person of interest. Unfortunately, his alibi was best not confirmed, since it involved his harassing a woman followed by breaking and entering.

      “Thank you—”

      “Hang on a second,” Parker interrupted. “You mentioned gunshots. How did Theo die?”

      “It’s too soon for the coroner’s report,” the detective hedged.

      Parker stood up, pulled himself together and applied the tone he’d once used to lead others in and out of harrowing conflicts. “He was my CO and a friend. What appears to be the cause of death, in your opinion?”

      “Unofficially, sir, I’d blame the two bullets in the back of his head.”

      Parker’s vision hazed red. Assassination less than twenty-four hours after he’d reached out to Theo. If the blackmailer thought this would motivate him to cooperate, to pay a debt he didn’t owe, he was mistaken.

      “Officers are canvassing the area for witnesses,” Baird continued. “I’m hoping for a better picture of what happened by morning.”

      “No signs of a struggle?”

      “Not at first glance, but we are in an alley.”

      Parker cringed at the image. “Thank you, Detective. I’ll come by your office first thing in the morning.” Tonight he had more work to do. He took another minute after the call ended to say a prayer for Theo. Real grieving required time he didn’t have right now.

      The blackmail note taunted him. Why ransom his team for gold they’d never stolen and then ignore the timeline? Something was off, and he intended to figure it out before anyone else on that list got hurt.

       Chapter Two

      The gala wasn’t living up to Becca’s hopes for the evening. Oh, the glitz and glamour made a visual impact, although her date clearly had an agenda. His conversation revolved around her father’s work, and he hoped one day to work with him on a project. The scenario was familiar territory for Becca, who listened with only half an ear as he droned on. If he could pitch his big idea to her father and add a side trip under her skirt, his life would be complete. He didn’t say that last part in so many words, of course. He let his wandering hands make his point clear.

      She admired the timing and efficiency of the dinner and award presentations, but now, with only dancing, celebrating and mingling on the schedule, her mind kept circling back to Parker Lawton’s shocking appearance at her door.

      Did he often slum around dressed like a normal person rather than a new-money billionaire? She glanced across the room, trying to picture Rush Grayson, local billionaire and one of tonight’s award winners, dressed as a typical workingman. Could happen, she supposed, squinting a little. She shook off the distraction. How Lawton dressed wasn’t the point. He’d bullied his way into her personal space. She should report him, except the police would laugh her out of the station. Everyone presumed reporters resorted to similar tactics and worse when pursuing a story.

      “I’m not sure I like the way you’re staring at my husband.”

      With a start, Becca turned to see Rush’s wife at her side, smiling and holding out a glass of champagne. “Oh! Hi, Lucy.” Thank goodness it was a friend who understood Becca could appear more than a little fierce when she was concentrating. “Congratulations to Rush.”

      “I’ll pass it along.” Lucy was radiant in a strapless ice-blue gown, pride in her husband sparkling in her dark eyes. “Dare I ask who has your attention?”

      “Don’t worry. It’s not a story. Well, it is, sort of.” Becca clamped her lips together to cease the babbling. “I’m rattled.”

      “Never thought I’d see it,” Lucy said, linking her arm with Becca’s. “Do you need to walk it off?”

      “Sure.” The warm offer drained a bit of the tension dogging her since Lawton’s appearance. “Some distance from Mr. Grab Hands wouldn’t hurt.”

      Lucy’s expression sobered. “Do you need an assist?”

      “No. I have plenty of practice brushing off people who only want to meet Dad.” She glanced over her shoulder to see her date occupied with the men they’d been seated with at dinner. Eventually, he’d notice she’d left and come racing after her with an inane compliment on his lips before he suggested a weekend in LA. “You’d think the red hair would make guys like that more wary of the reputed temper.”

      “The freckles undermine the effect,” Lucy said, echoing Becca’s theory. “Want me to get him tossed out? Rush and I can take you home.”

      “Not yet.” Becca’s gaze meandered as they walked from the ballroom to the mezzanine, where guests milled around between the open bar stations. She searched for a safer topic. “It seems married life agrees with both of you.”

      “It does,” Lucy said. “I know people think I married him for the money, but the opposite