Forged in Ash by Trish McCallan Page A

her stakeout next to the tennis courts. But the parking lot curved around to the left and behind the apartment complex. A side street flanked the building ahead. There was a good chance that side street had access to the parking lot as well. If he pulled around the block, he could park back there, and use the trees next to the tennis courts for cover as he made his way to Jillian’s sedan.
    All the windows in Jillian’s monstrosity were rolled down, so it would be easy to access her car. It made more sense to slip into thepassenger seat beside Jillian, stick a gun in her ribs, and force her to drive away—rather than drag her, kicking and screaming, out of her car and into his, while every eye in the neighborhood watched.
    He accelerated, scanning the building’s entrance as he drove past. Still no sign of Simcosky.
    Considering how slow the man moved these days, Robert would be in Jillian’s car and well on his way to clearing this mess up before Simcosky made it back to his truck.
    There was still the question of why the two were meeting. But he could cut that explanation from Jillian before he took the last of her lives.
    It took maybe a minute to drive around the corner and pull into the driveway behind the parking lot. He grabbed his weapon from the glove box, and shoved it behind his belt, draping his T-shirt over it. No sense in alarming the natives.
    Exiting his car, he crossed the parking lot to the tennis courts and casually headed south along the winding sidewalk toward Jillian’s car. With luck she’d be focused on the apartment entrance instead of the park and wouldn’t even realize he was on scene until it was too late.
    He was twenty feet from Jillian’s parking space when he realized the car was empty.
    Where the hell was she? He stopped, did a slow scan of the area, and found her sitting on a bench along the side of the building.
    Damn it, this new development totally blew any shot his plan had of working. She’d see him the minute she headed back to the car. What the hell was she doing over there anyway? But he realized the significance of her positioning, moments later, when a young couple strolled into view, crossed the parking lot, and climbed into a souped-up sports car.
    Anyone who left the apartment complex for either the park or their car was likely to pass her. If they were headed to the park, she’d be right there waiting. He glanced toward the black pickup. However, if they were headed to the parking lot, they’d also pass her.
    If this wasn’t a friendly meeting—which judging from Lt. Simcosky’s face earlier and her positioning now, it wasn’t—than her position was key. If she waited in her car, she’d be directly in his line of sight. However, if she waited on that bench around the corner, when he passed her, his back would be to her, which gave her a slight advantage.
    The strategic position surprised the shit out of him.
    Who would have guessed the terrified little mouse he’d grabbed all those months ago even knew how to implement such strategy.
    Just what the hell did the woman have planned for Simcosky?

    Cosky watched the sexy sway of Kait’s ass as she stalked across the living room.
    Long after she disappeared down the hallway, he continued standing there, his dick at full mast, the smell of sex, sweat, and roses heavy in the air. His heart raced as though he were caught in an Op gone south, sprinting five klicks to the evac chopper while live rounds and mortar shells lit the hills around him.
    He felt off balance. Changed. Different in a way that couldn’t be seen, only sensed. Because of her. Because of what they’d shared on that damn couch.
    Because he wanted her again. Already. Only worse, much worse than he had before.
    This raw urgency wasn’t like any kind of need he’d experienced before. He was thirty-five years old for Christ’s sake. He’d wantedwomen before. But not like this. Not with such primal craving. This urgency pushed past lust into