Rules In Rescue - Nichole Severn Mills & Boon Heroes

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brushed across her right side. Anthony. His clean, masculine scent filled her lungs, and she surveyed the full unfinished basement before they made their next move. But something charred and rotten replaced his scent within a few seconds of her hitting the bottom stair. She covered her mouth and nose in the crook of her elbow. “I recognize that smell.”

      She’d come across it only once since she’d been with the Military Police. An arson investigation at Pope Army Airfield in North Carolina, one of her first for the army. The fire had consumed an entire C-130J Hercules plane right before takeoff. The pilot had been sealed in the cockpit after an altercation with another airman. The smell. That was what she remembered most. “Charred remains.”

      Reaching for the flashlight strapped into her Kevlar vest, she brought it to life and swept the beam across the floor. Large boot prints had been preserved in a thin layer of dust. Fresh, from the look of it. But the uneven lines beside them? Those were drag marks.

      A groan interrupted the heavy silence and they swung their weapons to the left in tandem. Anthony’s boots hit solid cement. Weapon aimed high, he moved farther into the darkness.

      Dread sank like a stone to the bottom of Glennon’s stomach as she followed suit.

      A click of his flashlight expanded their visibility, but only slightly. There were still three other corners of the room they couldn’t see, but her gut told her whoever had turned on the furnace had disappeared long before they’d showed up. Still, she couldn’t shake the vein of ice working its way up her throat. Whatever was down here—whatever they found—would make or break her investigation into Bennett’s disappearance.

      They reached the furnace as it kicked on for another round, the struggling mechanical groan raising the hairs on the back of Glennon’s neck.

      Holstering his weapon, Anthony ran his fingers over the side of the unit then lowered his flashlight beam to the floor. Four screws had fallen into the dust building up around the furnace. Glennon holstered her own gun as he handed her the flashlight. The reverberation of metal on cement as he set the panel down vibrated through her. A rush of foul air hit her hard and she buried her mouth and nose into her elbow. Anthony did the same, reaching into the unit with his free hand.

      His mountainous physique blocked her view into the blackened depths. “Can you see anything?”

      “Yep.” A hiss escaped from between his teeth. He turned toward her, the burned remnants of a rifle highlighted by the flashlight beam. “What’s left of a Heckler & Koch G28 sniper rifle. Still hot, too. Safe to assume it’s the same model used to put a bullet in your shoulder three hours ago.”

      “The shooter tried to clean up his mess by destroying the gun in the furnace.” Not a bad idea. But that left them no closer to recovering her partner. Unless... Hope spread through her chest as she stepped closer to him. “You’re the weapons expert. Do you think any fingerprints survived to track down the owner?”

      Leaving the rifle inside, Anthony shifted out of her way so she could see the rest of the furnace, both flashlights highlighting what else had been stuffed inside. “Looks like we already found him.”

       Chapter Three

      Red-and-blue patrol lights deepened the shadows under Glennon’s eyes as she watched the scene from the SUV. When was the last time she’d slept? Twenty-four hours ago? More? He couldn’t imagine the thoughts running through her head as the remains of her best lead were loaded into the back of the coroner’s van.

      Anthony had kept her name out of his statement to Anchorage PD after he’d put in the initial call about an incinerated body in the furnace. Whatever was going on here—whoever had killed the shooter who’d ambushed them—it had obviously been to keep Glennon off the investigation into her missing partner. His gaze drifted back to her. She’d been right from the start. Sergeant Spencer’s disappearance had something to do with the missing shipment of weapons. Why else would a shooter try to take her out, too?

      “We’re done here,” he told the officer. “You know how to contact me at Blackhawk Security if you have any other questions.”

      He had to get her to safety, someplace off-the-grid where nobody—not even his team—could find her. Where he could protect her. Anthony maneuvered around the officer and headed for the SUV.

      Glennon followed his movements slowly.

      Wrenching the vehicle door open, he dropped into the driver’s seat. Her sweet scent hit him hard, but he didn’t try to fight it off this time. After the night they’d had, he needed that piece of her with him. He breathed her in a bit deeper. Anything to ease the tension of nearly losing her all over again tonight. Spots of blood seeped through her bandage.

      “What did you tell them?” she asked.

      He turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled to life and he forced his eyes to focus on the road. “That we were looking to spice things up in our sex life.”

      She smoothed her expression. “And they believed you?” Motioning to his clothing, she leaned against the passenger-side door. “You, in all this Kevlar, with at least three weapons strapped to your chest? They believed you?”

      “Don’t worry. I didn’t give them your real name.” In reality, Anchorage PD hadn’t asked too many questions about what he’d been doing in the house at all. After what had happened back in November, they recognized him and understood what kind of work he did on a regular basis. And who he did it for. Blackhawk Security had become a company the police could rely on after its CEO, Sullivan Bishop, had taken down one of the worst stalkers in city history, a case the department had moved to the bottom of their priority list. Anthony shoved the vehicle into Drive.

      “Very funny.” She crossed her arms over her chest, accentuating the lean muscles through her forearms. “What are you doing? We can’t leave.” She surveyed the cul-de-sac as he swung the SUV around, spinning her upper body toward him from the passenger seat. Her icy glare shot through him, but he wasn’t about to stop. “That body is our only lead to finding my partner. Do you trust the police to fill us in if they find something?”

      “We searched every inch of that house tonight, sweetheart. What exactly are you hoping they’re going to find that we couldn’t?” Anthony pressed his foot down on the accelerator when they hit Spenard Thruway. “Besides, you’re beat. We need to take a look at that wound again, then you’re going to get some sleep while we wait for the ballistics report on that bullet to come in.”

      “I’m fine.” She settled back into her seat. “And don’t call me sweetheart. You’re here to protect me while I search for Bennett. Nothing more.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” Tightening his grip around the steering wheel, Anthony studied Westchester Lagoon as they headed south. Nothing but blackness and the hint of lapping waves stared back at him. Wasn’t that just the perfect metaphor for the growing silence between him and Glennon? Damn, he’d screwed things up with her to hell and back. He should’ve been there for her while he’d still had the chance, should’ve been satisfied with what he’d done for his country the first four times instead of hopping on the next transport. Maybe then she wouldn’t treat him as though he were a stranger now.

      He headed farther south, out of the city. Miles of nothing but trees and starlit sky stretched out before them. It was the best place to hide. No one would be able to track them out here. And even if they did, he’d be ready. The familiar rise and fall of the south end of the Chugach Mountains indicated they were close. A few more minutes and he could relax in his own territory.

      “Where are you taking me?” Her voice barely overrode the sound of the heater, and he chanced a quick glance toward her. Adrenaline could only take the human body so far, and Glennon’s supply had run out. Lids closing, she fought to stay awake, but wouldn’t last much longer.

      “Where no one can find us.” Within a few minutes, gravel crunched

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