Chapter One

Cooper Browning grabbed the coffee pot, poured a healthy amount in his to-go cup and closed the lid. The noise in the den when the Texans made a touchdown tightened his nerves. His brothers, Dirk and Matt, gave each other a high five and gloated when the extra-point kick gave the team a three-point lead.

Any other Sunday, he’d be right in there with them. Today, he wanted to think and he couldn’t do it here.

As was the family routine, he left a note on the small pad held to the fridge by a German Shepherd dog magnet to let Shorty know he’d be back later.

He detoured by the dog pens to give them one last check before he left. His presence started a hymn of barking that made him smile.

Starting a military dog-training enterprise had been good for him and Dirk. In the SEALs, they’d seen firsthand how military dogs saved lives, and vowed to get involved when they were out of the service. Neither knew then just how involved.

After their initial greeting, the dogs quieted. All except Thor.

Thor was their smartest and their best. He was almost ready for the military. Coop would miss him. He tried his damnedest not to get too close to the dogs in training, as he knew they were his for only a short time. For some unknown reason, he felt different about Thor.

He opened the pen and Thor bounded to him, rubbed his head against Coop’s thigh, and looked up at him with sorrowful brown eyes. Little wonder he felt more for this animal.

“How would you like to go for a ride?”

Thor barked happily.

Coop would swear the dog understood every word.

“Let’s go.”

Thor ran to the truck and waited for Coop. In less than a minute, they were on their way.

At first he didn’t know where he was going. Just somewhere quiet.

“The lake.” He couldn’t think of a better place to go and mull over the case from hell. Taking Highway Fifty-Nine out of Houston, it wasn’t long before Coop turned his Ford pickup onto the familiar rutted lane leading to the two lots on Lake Houston Gramps had purchased long before Coop was born.

Situated on the West Fork of San Jacinto River and a short fifteen miles northeast of Houston, Texas, the almost twelve thousand acre lake had become a favorite fishing and camping area for the family.

It had been Gramps’ getaway place. Lately, Coop found himself going there when he had a problem to solve or wanted solitude. Just what he was looking for today.

“Must have grown more ruts since I was here last.”

Thor growled his disapproval as he shifted to and fro in the seat. The fawn-colored Belgian Malinois’ ears were perked up in indignation,

“I could put you in a seatbelt.” Coop chuckled, as his front tires hit a rather deep groove. He reached over and put a steadying hand on Thor’s back. “We’re almost there.”

Pine trees covered the area. Untrimmed brush had grown taller in the last six months. One of these days, he and his brothers were going to have to take a day and do some serious mowing.

He took a right at the end of the lane and parked between two tall pine trees in a grove close to the water.

Lowering his window, he took a deep breath, and let the peace of the place wash over him. “I love it here, Thor. You will, too.”

Thor gave a sharp bark of agreement.

For a moment, Coop relished the quiet. Not a whisper of traffic, not a single human voice. The soft lapping of water as it hit the shore, the sound of small creatures running through the brush, and the occasional birdsong, lifted a portion of the stress resting between his shoulder blades.

Perfect.

He opened the truck door, stepped out, took another deep breath, and stretched. “Damn.” His left leg went into an involuntary muscle cramp. As if realizing Coop’s discomfort, Thor rubbed his head against Coop’s thigh. For a moment, Coop rested and let the scent of the lake wash over him. The smell of pine, dry grass, and lake water brought back memories.

A quick leg massage, and he headed for the large boulder that once was his and Gramps’ favorite spot.

Thor ran to the edge of the lake, took a drink, and looked back at Coop, who gestured at the water. “It’s all right.”

Coop laughed as Thor bounded in, only to come out quickly. “Cold, isn’t it?”

Because the sun was shining, it was a relatively warm sixty degrees, which was close to normal for late November in the Houston area. The water would be much colder.

Thor shook off water and followed Coop onto the rock, joining the man who sat down and looked across the wide span of water. Trees lined the shore. A few were changing colors. Orange and red peeked out here and there.

This had been Gramps’ favorite spot to do some serious fishing. They could always drop a line in the pond on the homestead, but this was different. Special.

The two of them had come here, off and on, from the time Coop was a four-year-old. He lay back, put his hands behind his head, and remembered how, over the years, Gramps had patiently shown him how to bait a hook, take the hook out of the fish’s mouth, and later, when he was older, how to gut and fillet it for cooking.

As a youngster, this place had been magic; good times alone with Gramps was always a fun outing. When Dirk joined them, it was even better.

“Things are different now, Thor.” Gramps was gone, and Coop was a grown man with problems he couldn’t have imagined as a child.

The problem plaguing him now was the case he’d taken on two weeks earlier. It was at a standstill and he didn’t know where to go from here.

The panic-stricken phone call to his and Dirk’s PI firm from their SEAL team buddy, Ross Young, had been unexpected. Their teammate’s ten-year-old daughter, Christie, had been kidnapped and went missing for three days. Now she was in a coma at the hospital. Houston’s police department couldn’t get a handle on who had taken her or where she had been kept. He’d asked Coop and Dirk to use their firm to find the bastards and put them away.

Strange. He had been about the same age as Christie when he’d come here so often after Dirk became family. He couldn’t imagine how shattering this must be to her parents. Or how the youngster would be able to handle the trauma when she awakened from her coma. If she awakened.

Coop and his brother, Dirk, had opened their PI firm not long after they returned from Afghanistan. They had wanted to join the FBI, but because of their war injuries, that dream had died, and Matt was the only one of the three of them to make it. Opening the PI firm was their second choice, and they were happy with it. What made this particular case more important than others was the fact that Ross had served in their unit and had been there during the firefight that almost cost Coop his leg—had cost Dirk half an arm. It was the worst day of his life. Thanks to Matt, he still had a life. The lingering pain in his leg because of that battle was nothing compared to what others had lost.

SEALs were as close as family. When a member of that family was in trouble, they relied on and took care of each other. Such was this case.

Coop had promised to do all he could to find those who had kidnapped Christie. So far, after hours of hitting the streets, and rutting though the underbelly of Houston on a search to find the pair of sisters who could help solve the case, he’d netted zero.

Frustration ate at him. He opened his eyes to see Thor asleep beside him. The sun had disappeared, and clouds rolled overhead, matching the gloom that descended on him at the thought of the case he couldn’t get a handle on.

Coop shut his eyes again and let the series of events leading to Christie’s coma unfold in his mind.

The day she escaped her captors, surveillance cameras had caught the youngster as she ran down the sidewalk. It didn’t take long to see two Asian women following her. Christie looked back, saw them, and ran faster. Which is when she ran into the street and was hit by a car.

Cameras showed the Asian women racing to her side, trying to get her up and into their arms. Bystanders stopped them. Coop didn’t think Christie would be safely in the hospital now, if the ambulance and the police hadn’t gotten there so fast. The women were involved. But how? Cameras showed them disappearing into the crowd.

No one, not the police, Coop, nor his foot soldiers at his PI firm, had been able to locate the two women.

Though the cops had identified them as sisters Zia and Tan Wong who worked in the mall at a nail salon, the two of them had gone so deep undercover, no one could find a trace.

The case was at a standstill and Christie was still in a coma. If she would only awaken, maybe she could tell them enough to set them on the right track to find her kidnappers.

He would find them, Coop vowed. Those who had kidnapped the child would face the justice they deserved.

The wind picked up. It was getting colder. He sat up. The clouds were darker now. A storm was brewing. Thor stood, his ears perked at attention. “What do you think, Thor? Should we call it a day?”

Thor growled low. “Not yet, huh? Okay.” He rubbed Thor’s sleek back, wondering again how he had allowed this dog to get under his skin.

Suddenly, another spasm shot through his leg. The cold, he thought. He should have worked out this morning.

He’d exercised all right, just not the kind his leg needed. By six, he’d been at the training arena putting a soon-to-be-military dog and his handler through their morning lesson. The dog was better than good. Except for the newbie, every one of their dogs in training could be released now. But he and Dirk didn’t want their graduates labeled as good. They wanted them to be superior. Therefore, their training took longer and was more intense than that of other schools.

Their dedication had paid off. They received top dollar for their dogs and had a long waiting list.

Now that their PI firm was busier than ever, and the canine training took so much time, it was imperative they hire someone to help with the dogs. It wouldn’t be easy to find the right person. He’d have to love dogs and have an immeasurable amount of patience.

Another problem.

Thor nudged his arm. Coop chuckled. “Want a treat?” Of course he did. Coop dug in his pocket and handed the dog a biscuit. Thor mumbled his approval so Coop gave him another. “That’s enough.”

Thor stood and went on alert. His head turned to the left, then the right. His low growl brought Coop to his feet. “What?”

The lake had turned choppy. Waves broke against the rock they stood on. “Good dog.” He rubbed Thor’s head.

Knowing he should leave, Coop remained in place, enjoying the change from clear skies to clouds—from slightly chilly to nippy.

“Are we in for a storm, Thor? Or a cold November shower?”

Thor growled.

Rain began to pepper the lake.

Coop was ready to leave when, unseen through the thick stand of trees and brush, he heard a car door slam a couple hundred yards away. “We have company.” Could be noisy fishermen or kids out for a day of Sunday fun before school tomorrow. He knew the owners of the property next door were out-of-towners and almost never came here.

A shot rang out.

Thor let out a sharp bark.

In seconds, Coop went from a man trying to solve his problems to SEAL mode. His gun was in his hand before taking a second breath. “Such, Thor. Find. Sprechen.” Coop gave the German signal to speak. He hoped whoever had pulled the trigger would take heed. Thor obeyed, his bark loud and anxious as he bounded in the direction of the shot.

Pointing his gun in each direction as he scanned the area, Coop took special note of every tree, shrub, and rock in the vicinity.

Everything looked perfectly normal.

He crouched, slid off the rock, and edged around it. His gun leading the way, he looked right and left, front and back. Who was the shooter? Suddenly, he was back in a combat situation. Coop’s senses were on alert as his gaze swept the area a third time. But all he saw was rain on the lake, trees swaying in the breeze, and dried brush being pelted with rain. In a crouched position, he hurried after Thor as fast as he could. Was he overreacting? Maybe someone was simply target shooting? It was a favorite pastime of many Texans.

Still, doing so in the rain didn’t make sense.

A clap of thunder made him run faster.

A door slammed and a vehicle took off. Thor, still barking, bounded through the high, brown, almost dead, winter grass ahead of him.

Rain lashed at Coop as he hurried after Thor. Even without a bum leg there was no way he was going to keep up. Belgian Malinois were the fastest dogs around. He couldn’t even see the dog that, like a bullet, was responding to the signal with all the speed he had. He was beautiful to watch, but right now, Coop could only hear him.

It was cold now, and he was drenched, but it didn’t matter when he was in SEAL mode. Personal discomfort was put aside. Nothing mattered except the operation. Hunt and find the enemy.

By the time Coop reached Thor’s side, the dog was standing over a body.

Shit!

Body dump.

His heartbeat raced as he put his hands to his knees to bring his breathing under control. He’d been trained for just such a situation. Then, he’d been in a war. Now he was in his own backyard, and this wasn’t something one saw every day, as they had in Afghanistan.

Was the killer still here?

His Pucker Factor increased ten-fold.

Not likely, or there would be bullets headed his way. To be safe, he’d have to check. He looked around again. Rain brought visibility to a few hundred yards. But within that perimeter, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Coop edged closer to the body, taking in the scene with a glance. Blonde. Five foot seven or so. From what he could see, attractive. Thor was licking the woman’s face, nudging her, as if to wake her. “Enough.” He signaled, and Thor stopped. “We can’t help her now.” Stunned by the body, Coop leaned closer. Blood had flowed from her head, down her face, and onto what looked like very expensive clothes.

His military training sent him into a crouch by the woman’s body with a finger to her neck. Her pulse was weak. Not dead as he expected. Her breathing though, was irregular and shallow.

Putting his hands to her chest, he gave a few compressions, sat back.

“Breathe!” After a moment the woman choked and coughed.

Thank God.

The last thing he wanted was a dead body on his hands.

Thor trembled. He’d been trained to help a fallen soldier.

Another clap of thunder echoed off the lake.

He checked the woman’s pulse again. Her heartbeat had accelerated to dangerous levels.

Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled out his cell phone. Now he would be involved in a long series of explanations. The cops would most likely be suspicious of him, since he was carrying. He didn’t need this.

He started to make the call, when her hand grabbed his wrist. He jerked back, but the woman’s hand was locked tight, and he fell on his butt. Mud splashed, but her grip grew even tighter. “Don’t!” Her voice was a barely-there whisper.

Coop’s heart trip-hammered in his chest. As rain poured on and around them, he sat up. Blood mixed with rain as she blinked and stared. “I need to call the cops and an ambulance.” She needed medical attention. Fast.

If anyone knew how to identify a gunshot wound, it would be Coop and his brothers. They’d been in more than one firefight in Afghanistan and had the wounds to prove it.

“No. Please. I’ll be all right.” Her voice was soft, with an East Texas accent. Who was she?

She struggled to sit up. Coop put an arm around her shoulders and helped her to a sitting position. “Take it easy. We don’t know how serious your wound is.”

She put a shaky hand to her head to wipe the rain away. Her hand came away covered in blood. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. Winced.

“Someone shot you. I heard a car, a gunshot, and then the car left. Whoever it was, must have thought you were dead.” Either that, or Thor’s barking frightened them off.

She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m going to leave Thor with you for a minute. He’ll keep you safe. I want to recon the area.” Though he thought the shooter long gone, his training told him to make sure.

She took hold of his arm. “I won’t be long. I promise.” He peeled her hand off. “You’ll be all right for a few minutes.” If he was lucky, he would at least find the cartridge.

“Pass,” Coop gave Thor the signal to guard. The dog went to stand close to the woman, his ears perked up in attention mode. No one would get past him. Taking off his windbreaker, Coop draped it over the woman’s head. Not that it would do much good. It was raining too hard.

Still crouched, and watching in every direction, Coop took off as fast as possible. When he got to the lane leading into the property, he saw a few tire tracks that were quickly being wiped away by the rain. No footprints. No gun casing.

To be on the safe side, he extended his search a good fifty feet. The rain and brush made searching next to impossible.

Convinced the shooter had left the scene, he hurried back to the woman and Thor. She hadn’t moved. Neither had Thor. “Good dog.” He gave Thor a quick pat on the head.

“We’re soaked, and the rain isn’t letting up. Let’s get out of here.” He helped the woman to a standing position. Every movement made her wound bleed more.

“You need a hospital.”

“No.”

The woman looked around. Rain pounded harder than ever. The ground was turning to a river of mud. “Did I have a handbag?”

“I don’t see one.” Thor let out a loud bark. “We need to leave. Whoever shot you may come back.”

He hadn’t taken his hand from around her waist. She was none too steady, so he was forced to hold her upright. “You may think I’m crazy, but I’m going to take your jacket.”

He helped her out of it. She didn’t complain. It was as if she didn’t fully comprehend what was going on around her.

He wasn’t surprised.

Taking it, he threw it as far as he could into the dancing water. “My truck isn’t too far.” If the killer came back, they’d think she had washed into the lake. At least he hoped so.

The woman staggered. “I’ll have to carry you.” She looked thin, and probably didn’t weigh one twenty.

“I can make it.”

“No. You can’t.” She wouldn’t make it ten feet. He bent, picked her up in his arms and tromped toward his truck. Though she wasn’t that heavy, the pouring rain, weeds, and his bum leg hampered his progress. His accelerated heartbeat didn’t help.

He’d been out of training too long.

Finally, he opened the back door of his pickup and put her inside as gently as possible, bringing mud and water with them. Thor jumped into the front. The injured woman lay back, her eyes almost rolling in her head. He patted her face gently. When she looked at him again, she was more conscious. “My name is Cooper Browning. I’m going to do a quick field dressing on your wound. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She was way too pale. Hell, he’d thought her dead. What did he expect?

He secured her seatbelt, took a gauze pad out of his first-aid kit and wiped her wound with water from his water bottle. It was more than a graze. Luckily, the bullet had hit at an angle and knocked her out. He was convinced Thor’s barking kept the killer from pumping a few more rounds into her head.

From the way he visualized the scenario playing out, the woman had Thor to thank for saving her life.

He put a gauze pad over the wound as gently as he could and taped it tight. Scrabbling around the floorboard, he found an old T-shirt, wadded it up and pressed it against the wound. “Hold it as tight as you can.” It was still bleeding, but it was the best he could do. Whoever this woman was, she needed a doctor.

Her turquoise eyes tracked his every movement. Something stirred in him. He ignored it.

He tucked an old blanket around her wet, trembling body, got in the driver’s seat, and turned the heat up to high. Reaching over, he patted Thor. “Good boy. You knew the lady was alive.” Muddy, wet clothes clung to his cold skin. Until now, adrenaline had kept discomfort at bay. Now, he was freezing. So was the victim. And she could go into shock. He had to hurry.

He left the area, pulled onto the lake road, and made sure no other vehicle was in the area. Thank God. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him leave, especially if that anyone happened to be a killer. From there, he hurried as fast as the rain allowed and got back on the freeway.

What was he to do?

He knew what he should do. Haul ass to the nearest hospital and let them take care of her.

He pointed his pickup in that direction.

There was a moan from the backseat. Yep. Definitely a hospital.

“Where are you going?” Her voice was so low he barely heard it.

“Hospital. You’re badly injured.”

“No! Please.” She started to cry. Though weak, her hiccupping sobs got to him. There was something desperate about her. She said she couldn’t remember. If that were so, how did she know she shouldn’t go to a hospital? Or shouldn’t report an attempted murder to the cops?

He slowed the pickup. Hadn’t something similar happened in Afghanistan? After a firefight, a buddy had been injured. He’d been close to the blast and had been unconscious for a while. When he came to, and they were headed back to base, he begged them to take another route. Their logical explanation that they were going the closest way and he needed medical attention didn’t matter, he was adamant. So, they went the long way. Later, they learned a landmine had killed all those in a Hummer that was on the road they were to take.

Sixth sense? Premonition?

Whatever it was, against his better judgment, he’d do this her way. He pulled out his cell phone. “Doc, I have an emergency. I need you at the homestead. Bring as much surgical stuff as you think necessary for a bullet wound. Throw in an IV drip just in case. You know more than I do about the essentials. “

“It sounds as if you need a hospital.”

“Special circumstance.”

“Damn it, Coop. You know the law. I have to report bullet wounds.”

“Talk to you when we get there. Till then, this operation is Need To Know.”

“Shit!” She hung up.

“Can you hear me?” He raised his voice so the woman would stay awake. It was possible she had a concussion along with the bullet wound.

“I hear you.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

There was a long pause before she answered. “No.”

“No, you can’t, or no, you won’t? Is there anyone I can call? Family?”

Another long pause. “My memory. It’s gone. I can’t remember.”

“Don’t worry about it now, just stay awake.”

“I’ll try.”

Her voice was getting weaker. Was he doing the right thing? Was he risking her life by listening to her?

“Tell me why you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

Silence.

“Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know. It’s a feeling. Strong. I’ll die if I go there.”

“You may die if you don’t.”

“I’ll take my chances. If you take me to a hospital, I’ll refuse care. Since I don’t have money, maybe you could loan me enough for a couple of nights at a motel. If I rest, I’ll be fine. I’ll pay you back.”

Stubborn woman.

Even with a bullet wound and barely conscious, she knew what she wanted and was determined to have it.

“I can call the cops?”

“Nooo!” she wailed. “I told you before. I won’t be safe with them.”

He banged a hand on the steering wheel. “How the hell do you know you’ll be safe with me? How do you know I’m not the one who pulled the trigger and put you in this condition? How do you know you can trust me?”

There was more traffic now than earlier, probably because everyone wanted to get home and out of the rain. He slowed the truck and drove especially careful.

She sat forward to lean as close as she could. “I don’t know. Maybe the same reason I know I wouldn’t be safe with the cops or at a hospital. Please. Can you do this simply on faith?” She patted Thor’s head before she fell against the backseat.

“I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. If you go and die on me, I’ll be accused of murder. Do you want that on your conscience?”

If he thought she’d relent with that statement, he was mistaken.

She let out a soft bark that might have passed for laughter if she weren’t so weak.

“I’ll be fine. You’ll see. When my memory returns, I’ll know whether to go to the cops or not.”

She shut her eyes.

His gaze went from the road to his rearview mirror and the woman slumped against the seat. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“Then open your eyes.”

“Too tired.”

Who the hell was this stubborn woman? How did she get herself in this position?

How had he? He should ignore her wants and do what he knew was right. Instead, he was doing the opposite.

“Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?”

Her eyes opened to slits. “Like where I grew up? Went to school? Where I live?”

“Yeah.” If he could get some information out of her, he’d unload her and her problems on somebody else’s doorstep and get back to his case.

“Haven’t a clue.” Her eyes shut again.

“I could use a name.”

“Don’t have one.”

“What should I call you? Jane Doe?”

There went that soft bark again. She couldn’t be too badly hurt. “Make up one.”

“Lori, Marcie, Margie, Thelma, Reanna, Karen, Della?”

“Anything but Thelma. You pick.”

He played the game to keep her awake. “Lori or Margie?”

She sighed. “Lori.”

“Good. That’s settled. We’re almost there. How do you feel, Lori? Does anything hurt?”

“Head.”

“Understandable.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to the homestead. One of my best friends is a doctor. She’ll tend to your wound. I warn you, though. If she says you need a hospital, that’s where you’ll go.”

The lashing rainstorm hadn’t eased and he couldn’t get warm. He could only imagine how chilled Lori must be. Her lips were so blue they were purple and her body was shaking. She could go into shock. He didn’t want that.

“No. I won’t. I may not know who I am, but I’m not ready to die. If I go to a hospital or to the cops, that’s what will happen.”

Was she on the up and up? How could she possibly know? Was she pretending amnesia for nefarious reasons? Could be if she knew who’d shot her and didn’t want them to know she was alive—if she was involved in a crime and didn’t want to be caught?

There were dozens of scenarios out there. Since he didn’t know whether he could trust her or not, he’d watch her closely.

If she raised his suspicions to a higher level, he’d call the cops no matter how loud she yelled.

Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to.

Her family would notify the authorities, and there would be a missing persons bulletin. Simple.

He’d wait and see.

The truth would come out eventually.

Lashing rain eased to a sedate drizzle.

Before long he turned into the lane leading to the homestead.

He pulled his pickup as close to the house as possible. Doc Louise, a big red-and-white striped umbrella in hand, ran out the door to meet them.

Doc might not approve of the burden dropped in her lap, but instead of shying away, she was heading straight for it—ready, as always, to help, and to heal.