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Veiled Intentions
Delores Fossen
SAYING "I DO" HAD NEVER BEEN SO DANGEROUS…She bet her badge and her honor when she bent the rules to hunt the deadly sniper who'd declared open season on newlyweds. Now police detective Katelyn O'Malley would answer to hotshot Sergeant Joe Rico, her new boss - and temporary fiance.OR SO DESIRABLEJoe had a plan to draw the sniper out - by dangling his and Katelyn's very public whirlwind "marriage" as bait. But in private, the line between pretense and passion blurred. And as duty and desire tangled them in a web of escalating danger, they raced to discover if the killer had spun the deadliest trap of all….



“I think you’ll regret doing this.”
“Oh yeah?” Katelyn caught his shoulder and turned him around. She positioned his hands, palms flat, against the wall and patted him down. “I doubt it, since it might just save a few people from dying.”
The man was certainly solid. And built. Her fingers skimmed over lots of hard, sinewy muscles. Odd. She’d never noticed anything like that before when frisking a subject. Maybe it had something to do with his memorable aftershave.
She located his wallet. Except she realized it wasn’t a wallet. She flipped open the too-familiar case and read the name aloud. “Joseph Rico.”
“Sergeant Joe Rico,” he clarified, and turned back around to face her. “Homicide. SAPD.”
Katelyn’s breath landed somewhere around that knot in her stomach.
Sergeant Rico moved her out of the doorway and turned to leave, delivering the rest of his news from over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, I’m your new boss.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Temperatures are rising this month at Harlequin Intrigue! So whether our mesmerizing men of action are steaming up their love lives or packing heat in high-stakes situations, July’s lineup is guaranteed to sizzle!
Back by popular demand is the newest branch of our Confidential series. Meet the heroes of NEW ORLEANS CONFIDENTIAL—tough undercover operatives who will stop at nothing to rid the streets of a crime ring tied to the most dangerous movers and shakers in town. USA TODAY bestselling author Rebecca York launches the series with Undercover Encounter—a darkly sensual tale about a secret agent who uses every resource at his disposal to get his former flame out alive when she goes deep undercover in the sultry French Quarter.
The highly acclaimed Gayle Wilson returns to the lineup with Sight Unseen. In book three of PHOENIX BROTHERHOOD, it’s a race against time to prevent a powerful terrorist organization from unleashing unspeakable harm. Prepare to become entangled in Velvet Ropes by Patricia Rosemoor—book three in CLUB UNDERCOVER—when a clandestine investigation plunges a couple into danger….
Our sassy inline continuity SHOTGUN SALLYS ends with a bang! You won’t want to miss Lawful Engagement by Linda O. Johnston. In Cassie Miles’s newest Harlequin Intrigue title—Protecting the Innocent—a widow trapped in a labyrinth of evil brings out the Achilles’ heel in a duplicitous man of mystery.
Delores Fossen’s newest thriller is not to be missed. Veiled Intentions arouses searing desires when two bickering cops pose as doting fiancés in their pursuit of a deranged sniper!
Enjoy our explosive lineup this month!
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor, Harlequin Intrigue

Veiled Intentions
Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Sergeant Joe Rico—One of San Antonio PD’s finest, he’s put in charge of collaring a high-profile sniper who goes after newlyweds. What Joe hadn’t counted on was the intense attraction to his new partner and undercover fiancée, Katelyn.
Detective Katelyn O’Malley—She’s trying to earn a name for herself in the department, so the last thing she’s looking for is a personal involvement with Joe. But it’s hard to push aside the hot Latino cop when their undercover assignment forces them together night and day.
Addison Merrick—The owner of the Perfect Match Agency. Is he murdering his own clients to lash out at his fiancée for ending their engagement?
Fiona Shipley—A frequent client at Perfect Match. She was rebuffed by the grooms who became the sniper’s targets.
Bruce Donovan—Perfect Match employee with a history of violent behavior. He claims he’s trying to help catch the sniper, but maybe he’s just trying to cover his own tracks.
Dr. Allen Kent—The ex-husband of the first murdered bride. Is his connection to Perfect Match simply a coincidence, or is he really the sniper?
Lieutenant Brayden O’Malley—Head of Homicide and Katelyn’s brother. He wants his sister to succeed but fears she’s in over her head with both the sniper case and Joe.
For Don and Orloene

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One
San Antonio, Texas
Detective Katelyn O’Malley stood in the entrance hall and studied each of the wedding guests as they trickled into Sacred Heart church.
If she got lucky, very lucky, maybe no one would be murdered today.
Too bad there was the little annoying buzz in the back of her head that said all hell might break loose before the bride and groom managed to say I do.
While she directed the guests to sign the registry—a duty she’d created for her cover—Katelyn continued her surveillance. She mentally dismissed two giggling teenage girls whose dresses were so skintight that they couldn’t have been carrying concealed weapons, or much of anything else for that matter. Besides, if her profile of the killer was right, she wasn’t looking for a female but a male in his late twenties or early thirties.
A male who’d already killed two people.
“See anything?” she heard her brother, Garrett, ask through her earpiece. He was posted outside the church. Watching their backs. And sides. It’d taken some effort, but she’d managed to get photos of thirty-nine of the forty-one guests. Not bad odds. If someone uninvited showed up, Garrett would know and could relay it to her.
Katelyn kept her voice at a whisper and spoke into the tiny communicator tucked in the neckline of her dress. “So far, so good. How about you?”
“Nothing. Well, nothing other than being hit on by one of the bridesmaids.”
That wasn’t anything new. Lots of women hit on her brother. “Was she armed?” Katelyn was only partly sarcastic.
“No. Unfortunately, I have firsthand knowledge that she wasn’t, since she tripped over her lavender taffeta gown and fell right in my arms.” He paused. “I guess this is a good time to remind you that your lieutenant will have our butts if he finds out about this little unauthorized stakeout you arranged?”
“He won’t find out,” Katelyn said with certainty she didn’t feel. The lieutenant in question was her oldest brother and head of Homicide. And he would find out. No doubt about it. Still, if she could stop someone from being killed today, she’d gladly take the flak over her yet-to-be-an-official-part of this investigation.
“Okay, can I add then that this is probably a waste of a really great Saturday afternoon?” Garrett continued. “You’re assuming the other two murders weren’t just random acts of violence—”
“They weren’t.”
He grumbled something that Katelyn didn’t want to distinguish. “All right, but even if last week’s shooting was the start of some grand serial career, it’s the first frickin’ weekend in June. There are dozens of weddings going on in San Antonio today. Hear that, sis? Dozens. If our gunman’s really a wacko targeting brides and grooms, he could be at any one of them.”
It was true, and they’d already rehashed this subject too many times. Yes, this was a long shot. Yes, this wasn’t exactly standard operating procedure. And yes, they could get reprimanded for this. But after studying all the angles, Katelyn knew in her gut that this particular ceremony was their best bet for saving lives. In her mind, this was one of those times where the means would justify the ends.
An odd sound caught her attention. A scrape of metal. Katelyn whipped her gaze to the other side of the narthex where the lanky, twenty-something photographer was adjusting his equipment. He was definitely on her list of people to be concerned about, and she made a mental note to get a look in his bag. Perhaps she’d try the bridesmaid’s flirting/falling in his arms approach. She was certainly dressed for the part in the short, snug emerald silk outfit that she’d dragged from the back of her closet.
The way back.
Katelyn had added some too-high heels, heavy concealing makeup and a blond wig to go along with it. All in all, it was a very uncomfortable but hopefully convincing disguise that could work for her if needed.
“Hold on. We might have something,” Garrett informed her. “If there’s something to have in all this. A male. Brown hair, part Latino or maybe Italian. He doesn’t match any of the photos. You’ll have visual in under a minute because he’s headed right for the church.”
“Okay. I’ll handle it. You stay put in case this one’s a decoy.”
“Be careful,” he warned.
Oh, she definitely would.
More guests strolled in, bringing with them the June heat and humidity from the nearby San Antonio River. A pregnant woman with a toddler. A middle-aged couple holding hands. All innocent, she was sure of that.
And then Katelyn saw him.
That buzz in her head turned to a full roar.
He stepped into the entry. Well, he didn’t step, exactly. He stalked in, smooth and slow, like a jungle cat sizing up his hunting area.
Now here was the male who fit her profile to a proverbial tee. Mahogany brown hair, not too long, not too short. Olive skin. Six-one. About a hundred and seventy-five pounds. No distinguishing marks and definitely no pretty boy. He had badass written all over him.
He wore a midnight-blue suit. Nondescript. Ditto for the crisp white dress shirt and his precisely knotted silver-gray tie. But that’s where the nondescript and ditto parts ended. Katelyn had been a cop for nearly eight years and had learned to recognize something lethal when she saw it.
This guy was lethal.
His gaze swept around the room, and like his entrance, it was smooth. He made eye contact with her. Just a split second. Then, he looked away to continue his surveillance. And there was no doubt in her mind that this was surveillance for him. He dismissed the teenagers as quickly as Katelyn had, but his attention lingered a bit on the photographer, before it came back to her.
Was he suspicious?
You bet he was.
His instincts weren’t lacking in any area. That meant she had to strike first.
Pulling in a hard breath to steady herself, she eased from behind the narrow table when he walked closer. She wanted a better look, among other things, and she got a dose of those other things right away. She caught the scent of his aftershave. Something manly and musky. It was better suited for a long night of sex than a wedding.
Or maybe that was just her imagination working overtime.
Whoa.
An imagination with seriously bad timing.
She brushed her arm against his, purposely, and the soft contact garnered her another glance. Not a dismissive one either. There was interest in the depths of those icy blue eyes. Too bad she couldn’t quite make out exactly what kind of interest it was, but it was obviously time for that flirting ruse to see if she had to reel in a killer.
Katelyn smiled, making sure she let her nerves show a little. She didn’t have to fake that part. She was well past being nervous. But then, this was a situation where lack of nerves would mean she was a complete idiot. Someone, maybe this man, had already killed two people. Nerves were part of the job description.
“I’m Kate.” She offered her hand in greeting, and he shook it. Eventually. “Would you like to sign the guest registry?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, okay.” A roadblock. Not too surprising. Katelyn tried a different angle. “It’s a keepsake for the bride and groom so they’ll know who attended. Maybe I could sign it for you if you’ll give me your name?”
He looked at the book, then her again. “Joe.”
She almost pushed for a last name but decided it could wait. “This’ll sound like a really bad line, but don’t I know you from somewhere?” Katelyn asked, letting her voice purr. “You look familiar.”
He spared her another glance. “No. I think I’d remember you.”
There was a touch of Texas in his voice. An effortless, sliding drawl that matched his attitude.
And his aftershave.
Maybe the accent meant he was local. If so, it fit another piece of her unofficial profile.
Katelyn looked around to make sure they hadn’t garnered anyone’s attention. They hadn’t. The guests were still ambling into the sanctuary, which was exactly where she needed them to amble. She didn’t want an audience, or any bystanders, when she confronted him.
“Say, I’m a little light-headed,” she lied. “I have this blood sugar thing. Nothing serious. Just makes me a little woozy. I wondered if I could just catch on to your arm before I fall flat on my face?”
He studied her. A long, snail-crawling moment. And then, as if preparing for a root canal, he offered her his arm. She took hold of it before he changed his mind, and she got a peek inside his jacket.
He was packing a .357 Magnum in a shoulder holster.
Katelyn had anticipated a weapon, of course. However, reality caused her heart to slam against her chest. She pushed that slamming aside and got to work. It was time to move on to the next step of her plan. She needed to get him away from the guests so she could rid him of that weapon and ask a few questions.
She stumbled, just enough to make him grip her arm. That stumble was a real leap of faith on her part, since she wasn’t overly confident that he would even catch her. Thankfully, there was at least one gentlemanly bone in his body, because he cooperated. After he had a good hold on her, she led him a few steps away into the narrow hallway just off the narthex.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mumbled, leaning against him so he wouldn’t easily be able to reach for his gun. “Not the best time to get one of my dizzy spells. The ceremony’s about to start, and I doubt you want to miss that.”
She shoved him into the small vacant room that she’d already checked out. Katelyn didn’t waste any time, figuring she would rather be embarrassed from a case of mistaken identity than to have a dead bride and groom.
Blocking the doorway so he couldn’t leave, she drew her weapon from her holster, hidden beneath her silky jacket. “Here’s how we’re going to do this,” she instructed. “Keep your hands where I can see them and explain to me why you brought a .357 Magnum to a wedding.”
He lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I carry my gun everywhere. I guess you do the same?”
If he was scared, or even remotely concerned, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Too bad Katelyn couldn’t say the same. Her throat was suddenly dry as dust, and she kept a firm grip on her gun to keep her hand from shaking.
“Yes, but for me, it’s part of the job. I’m Detective Katelyn O’Malley, S.A.P.D., and this is what we call a stop and frisk.”
He paused. Said one word of profanity under his breath. One rather crude four-letter word. He tipped his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention.
Or something.
“Know what I think?” he asked.
“Not particularly. But I want you to remove your weapon slowly and carefully from its holster and place it on the floor. Notice those operative words. Slowly. Carefully. Floor. Those are major conditions here, and you’re going to do that while using only two fingers. Make any sudden moves, and I’ll take you down the hard way.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “That wasn’t what I was thinking.” He disarmed himself, just as she’d instructed. Slowly, carefully, and he placed his gun on the floor directly between them.
“Oh, yeah?” Katelyn caught his shoulder and turned him around. She positioned his hands, palms flat, against the wall, and kneed his legs apart. “What exactly were you thinking?” she asked, patting him down.
The man was certainly solid. And built. Her fingers skimmed over lots of hard, sinewy muscles. Odd. She’d never noticed anything like that before when frisking a suspect. Maybe it had something to do with his memorable aftershave.
“I’m thinking you’ll regret doing this,” he let her know.
“I doubt it, especially since it might just save a few people from dying.”
She located his wallet in his jacket pocket. Except when she got a good look at it, she realized it wasn’t a wallet. And that caused her stomach to tighten into a hard knot. It also caused Katelyn to use a little profanity of her own. She flipped open the too-familiar leather case and read the name aloud.
“Joseph Rico.”
“Sergeant Joe Rico,” he clarified. And with that announcement, he turned back around to face her. “Homicide. S.A.P.D.”
Her breath landed somewhere around that knot in her stomach.
Katelyn shook her head. The badge had to be a fake. Except it wasn’t. She scratched it with her thumbnail, or rather tried to. It was as real as the one in her purse. Still, there was something off here. “Impossible. I work Homicide, and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Because I was just assigned there.” He enunciated each word as if she were mentally deficient. “By the chief of police.”
Judas Priest. That bit of information cleared the buzz in her head. Katelyn wasn’t sure exactly where this was leading, but she knew for a fact that she wouldn’t like its final destination.
Joe Rico calmly picked up his gun from the floor and reholstered it. Somehow, he managed to look cocky even while doing that little chore. No hurried moves. No overt display of emotion.
“Well, Detective Katelyn O’Malley, I’d say we have a problem. A problem with you being here because this isn’t your case. Why am I so certain of that?” He aimed his thumb at his chest. “Because it’s mine.”
Katelyn hadn’t thought this moment could possibly get more frustrating—or embarrassing—but she was obviously wrong.
“Yours?” she demanded.
“Mine.” Sergeant Rico muscled her out of the doorway and turned to leave, delivering the rest of his news from over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, I’m your new boss.”

Chapter Two
Well, it wasn’t exactly the smooth start Joe wanted for this particular investigation. While undercover, he’d been made quite easily—by his subordinate, no less. And then that subordinate had frisked him.
He was sorry to say the frisking had been more enjoyable than it should have been.
Far more.
“The chief assigned you this case?” Katelyn O’Malley asked, following him.
Since he’d already made that perfectly clear, and since he detected some resentment in her voice, he surmised that she’d heard him correctly but wasn’t in agreement with the chief’s decision.
Joe stopped at the edge of the narthex and pressed the transmitter of the communication device hidden in his jacket. “Did anyone come in the church in the past three minutes?” he asked the backup officer who was positioned in an office building directly across the street.
“No.”
So they’d been lucky. Katelyn O’Malley’s stunt hadn’t allowed the sniper to walk in unchallenged. Of course, if the killer followed the method of operation of the last shooting, he or she wouldn’t burst into the church until the I do’s had been said. There’d be a frenzied battery of gunfire from a ski-mask-wearing shooter who wouldn’t actually enter the sanctuary but would stay in the narthex and then make an easy getaway. Just the way it’d happened to the victims, Gail Prescott and Raul Hernandez.
Joe clicked off the transmitter and glanced back at Detective O’Malley.
She was staring at him as if he were a member of the fungus family.
Too bad he couldn’t say the same for her.
She was attractive. Damn attractive. Not like a beauty queen either, but in a strong, athletic, kick-butt sort of way. The girl-next-door meets Buffy type.
The type he found attractive.
And no amount of denial would make his body think otherwise. Fortunately, the parts of his body that noticed her attractive looks didn’t have any say in the decisions he made.
“There’s been some kind of mistake.” She jammed her gun back into her holster. “After the initial investigator dropped out because of family illness, I requested this case, and I was told my request was under consideration.”
“It was,” Joe calmly assured her. “But the considering part is finished now, and I’m the lead investigator. End of discussion.”
There was nothing calm about her response. He saw some fire dance through ultraclear, cool green eyes. He’d obviously stepped on her toes, toes encased very nicely in a pair of sex-against-the-wall stilettos.
Something else about her that he truly wished he hadn’t noticed.
Joe quickly pushed that, her physical attributes and the remnants of the frisking aside. What the devil was wrong with him anyway? Even if he’d been looking to spice up his love life, he darn sure wouldn’t have been looking in Katelyn O’Malley’s direction.
“I knew the woman who was killed last week,” she added.
As if that would help her cause.
“Gail Prescott,” Joe supplied. “You went to high school with her and you’ve maintained occasional contact with her and her family. You probably would have attended her wedding even if you hadn’t been on a stakeout. Your relationship with the victim, however, doesn’t give you priority in this investigation. In fact, it does just the opposite. I don’t care to work with an officer who comes into a case with a personal chip on his or her shoulder.”
She unclenched her teeth before she could speak. “There’s no personal chip, Sergeant. Just my desire to bring a killer to justice.”
“Good. Then, we’re in agreement. I have that same desire, but that doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to be part of this case.” But the moment the words left his mouth, Joe remembered a vital point that had come to mind. “By the way, why’d you stake out this particular church?”
The fire in those baby greens dwindled a fraction. She pulled back her shoulders as if preparing to defend herself and met him eye-to-eye. In those heels, she could almost manage it, even though he was just over six feet tall.
“Because the bride and groom met through the Perfect Match Agency, the same matchmaking service that Gail and her fiancé used,” she explained. “They both also had the same florist. I thought there might be a connection so I contacted the minister here at the church—”
“You told him about this possible connection?”
“No. Of course not. There’s only been one shooting, and I have no proof that there’ll be another one. I didn’t want the couple to bring a possible lawsuit against the department for disrupting their wedding, so I simply reminded the minister of some recent robberies in the area and offered my services as a temporary security guard. He agreed, and we came up with the idea of using the guest registry as my cover.”
So she’d done her homework. He liked that. But this wasn’t a time when Brownie points counted. “The florist and Perfect Match could be a coincidence. There are other possible angles.”
“Yes. Gail’s fiancé was Hispanic, so the shooting could have been racially motivated. Or maybe their deaths are linked to some other aspect of their personal lives.” She paused. “But I don’t believe that, and apparently neither do you, or you wouldn’t have come here today.”
Touché.
Joe fought back an urge to smile. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed this verbal sparring, but these weren’t different circumstances. Katelyn O’Malley would be in his way, because despite her denial, this case was personal for her. In his experience, when it got personal, people made mistakes.
That wasn’t going to happen on his watch.
“I came here to follow up on one particular theory. One theory of several,” he assured her.
Joe checked the entryway. No new guests, and the others had already moved into the church. He could hear the organ start to play, an indication that the bride and groom were about to make their entrance.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be their last.
Katelyn huffed. “I know those theories as well as you—”
“Caucasian male is approaching the church,” the backup officer said through Joe’s communicator.
That, and the sound of hurried footsteps, interrupted whatever else she was about to say. Frantic footsteps that sent them both reaching for their guns. In the same motion, she stepped into the hallway beside him. However, the threat for which they’d braced themselves didn’t materialize.
Judging from the strong family resemblance, the man who came into sight was Sergeant Garrett O’Malley. His gun was already drawn, but he held it discreetly by his side so it wouldn’t easily be seen.
“Katelyn, what’s going on?” her brother demanded.
Because Joe was standing arm-to-arm with her, he felt her muscles relax.
“False alarm,” she let him know. Once again, she reholstered her gun. “This is Sergeant Joe Rico. Homicide. This is my brother, Sergeant Garrett O’Malley, Special Investigations.”
Unlike Katelyn, Garrett didn’t appear to relax. Just the opposite. It was obvious he had issues, and Joe didn’t have to guess who or what those issues were.
“Rico,” Garrett repeated in the same tone that he no doubt reserved for profanity. “According to the rumor mill, the chief sent you in to investigate our brother, Brayden. And possibly Katelyn and me, too.”
“The chief did what?” Katelyn asked. Mouth gaping, she stepped in front of Joe and pinned her gaze to his.
This obviously wasn’t the way to win friends and influence people. But that didn’t matter. He had a job to do, and he’d do it, with or without the O’Malleys’ approval.
“Since it appears you can answer your sister’s questions,” Joe said to Garrett, “I’ll leave you to it and see what’s happening in the church. I’d prefer that people didn’t die while we’re standing around chitchatting.”
It was a good exit line. The only thing missing was, well, the good exit. Katelyn didn’t get out of his way so he could leave, and the hallway was too narrow to go around her. He really didn’t want to play bump and grind just so he could get past her.
Really.
Even if there were various parts of him that thought it might be fun.
Her hands went to her hips. “I don’t know what your agenda is—”
“To do my job,” Joe insisted.
That earned him a scowl. “My brothers are good cops. Don’t judge either of them by the fact that I came here today. This undercover investigation was my idea and mine alone.”
Since it was clear this argument wouldn’t be resolved in the next couple of minutes, Joe put his gun back into his holster, firmly caught her shoulders and moved her out of his path. “I’ll see you both back at headquarters when I’m finished here.”
Joe turned to leave. But he still didn’t manage that exit. A few steps was as far as he got. The sound stopped him in his tracks. Because it was the last thing he wanted to hear. A sound he’d anticipated, and dreaded.
A shot blasted through the church.

THE EMOTION of her argument with Sergeant Rico evaporated instantly, and in its place, Katelyn felt the barrage of instinct and adrenaline.
Sweet heaven. The gunman had attacked after all, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She prayed the bullet had missed its target and that everyone was safe.
“The shot came from outside,” Rico offered, taking the words right out of her mouth. “The west side of the building, maybe. Maybe the rear. Garrett, secure the front doors, and just in case someone else hasn’t already done it, call for backup. Katelyn, you’re coming with me.”
Rico didn’t hesitate. Neither did Garrett nor she. Her brother hurried to the front door, kicking it shut and locking it. He kept his weapon ready, secured a spot near one of the sidelight windows and then pulled out his cell phone. Rico went in the direction of the sanctuary, and Katelyn followed.
“Get down!” Rico yelled to the guests.
Most had already done just that, squeezing themselves underneath the pews. There were raw screams. Chaos. The smell of fear. And in the middle of that, Katelyn saw the bride, groom and the minister cowering between the altar and an archway of pale peach roses.
No visible evidence of blood. Thank God. They seemed unharmed.
For now.
“There’s an auxiliary building out there. Two story, brown brick,” she relayed to Rico. “Our gunman could be using it as a catbird seat.”
He nodded and without taking his attention off the partially shot-out stained glass window, he whispered to her over his shoulder. “You don’t happen to have another brother stashed in the parking lot, huh?”
“I wish. But no. We’re on our own until backup arrives.” Which wouldn’t be for minutes. Long, critical minutes.
Where just about anything could happen.
“Good,” Rico responded. “Because I have an officer out there. One who’s officially on this case, and I didn’t want any of your relatives accidentally shooting him while he’s trying to do his job.”
Katelyn didn’t appreciate the sarcasm but welcomed all the help they could get. Maybe the officer would be able to stop the gunman before any more damage was done.
But at the moment that seemed a lot to hope for.
There’d been damage already. Even if they stopped the shooting here and now, every one of the guests would remember this horrifying ordeal for the rest of their lives. Katelyn blamed herself for that. She’d been in a position to stop this and had failed.
A second shot rang out, quickly followed by another. And another. Two of the three went through a window on the right front side of the church and tore chunks of glass from the frame. No doubt that’s what the shooter had intended to do. Now he or she had a direct line of sight into the church.
Yelling and crying out, the bride, groom and minister scurried to the other side of the altar, but it wouldn’t give them shelter for long. Bullets could easily eat through that wood.
“I’ll make my way over there.” Rico tipped his head to a set of ornate double doors, which were only a couple of yards away from the shattered window. “If necessary I’ll return fire to draw the shooter’s attention. I might be able to get a visual and take him out.”
Yes. Or maybe the gunman would get him first. Of course, that was a chance they had to take.
“I can help.” Katelyn kicked off her shoes and peeled off the silky jacket so they wouldn’t get in her way. “There aren’t any guests near that other window next to the doors. I’ll knock out the glass and return fire, as well. Don’t worry—I’ll keep watch for your officer and make sure I don’t send any friendly fire his way.”
Rico might have disagreed with that impromptu plan, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. More shots came crashing through the building.
Heavy, thick blasts.
Nonstop, this time.
The sounds were deafening. And they drowned out the shouts, screams and prayers that increased with each new round of fire. Just as Katelyn had figured, those shots were aimed right at the wooden altar. It was the same as the first shooting, the one that had killed Gail and her fiancé. Shots and plenty of them. But that knowledge gave Katelyn no comfort whatsoever. She’d already guessed that Gail’s murder wasn’t some random act of violence.
For all the good it’d done her.
Her guess was right, and yet it’d still been repeated right under her nose.
The bride screamed. Maybe in pain. Maybe just from fear. Katelyn prayed it was fear.
Rico moved. Fast and low. He was almost graceful, surprising for a man his size. With Katelyn following closely behind him, they went toward the door. Along the way, he identified himself and doled out assurances to the terrified guests.
He kept close to the perimeter wall until he got to the row of the stained glass windows, and then he lowered himself to the floor and proceeded to the doors.
The shots stopped for only a couple of seconds. Not for reloading, Katelyn soon learned. And they didn’t stop because the gunman was finished for the day. The break was so the person could change out rifles. The sound of the new shots told her that much since it was a different calibration. Whoever was doing this had certainly come prepared to kill but wasn’t necessarily an expert marksman. The stray bullets were landing everywhere—which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous.
Katelyn made her way right along behind Joe Rico. Trying to time it perfectly to coordinate with his efforts, she sheltered her eyes and used the grip of her gun to knock out the glass that formed the image of the archangel, Michael. The glass was solid and held in place by not just strips of lead solder but also a sturdy frame. It took several hard jabs before she managed to dislodge enough of it so she could see into the parking lot.
Pressing her back against the narrow section of wall next to the doors, she rotated her body and did a quick check outside. She had a fairly good view of the building—and the dozen or so windows facing the church. Too many windows, and the reflection of the early afternoon sun didn’t make things easier. She quickly scanned them all as best she could.
No shooter in sight.
Yet, he had to be there.
Somewhere.
Because he was still firing.
While still low on the floor, Rico reached up and turned the old-fashioned brass handle on the door. He opened it a fraction and looked out. Katelyn waited for a signal so she could return fire.
And just like that, the shots stopped.
She felt another surge of adrenaline slam through her. A bad-feeling kind of surge. If the gunman wasn’t shooting, then he was likely making his getaway.
That couldn’t happen.
Because she knew in her heart that he would continue this until someone stopped him.
It was a risk, but Katelyn moved closer to the window so she could check the parking lot and the grounds. Rico did the same to the door. He stood, took position and aimed.
“Think,” she whispered to herself. If she were a killer, what would be her escape plan? Not the parking lot. Too visible. Not the side either since it bumped right against a fairly busy street.
No.
He’d go out the rear of the building and slip into the myriad of old shops and businesses that were crammed into this particular part of the downtown area.
Katelyn heard the sound of sirens the moment that Rico opened the door wider. Mumbling something, he peered out. He’d perhaps come to the same conclusion as she had. The gunman was getting away.
“Stay put,” Rico ordered.
It was a logical order.
Katelyn needed to stay there to protect the guests. Still, part of her wanted to go after the gunman.
“Hold your positions,” Garrett called out from the arched entryway that led into the church. Katelyn glanced at him and saw that he had his phone pressed to his ear. “Backup is in pursuit of a white car that just sped away.”
Katelyn released the breath that she didn’t even know she’d been holding. She glanced at Rico, but he didn’t seem any more eager than she was to let down his guard. So they did the only thing they could do. They waited with their backs literally against the wall and their guns ready.
“Is anyone hurt?” Rico called out to the guests.
The response varied, most still layered with panic, but from what she gathered, no one had actually been shot. Nothing short of a miracle. Katelyn said a quick prayer of thanks for that and then turned to the man who’d given her so much grief about being here.
“Still think I’m the wrong person for this case?” she asked Rico.
“Yes.” No hesitation whatsoever.
The analogy of butting her head against a brick wall came to mind. “But I guessed right about the gunman picking this particular wedding. Even in your book that has to count for something.”
He made another check of the parking lot. “It doesn’t count for much.”
Crouching there among shattered glass and the smell of gunfire, it seemed petty to dislike this man because he was arrogant and hardheaded, but that didn’t prevent her scowl. The scowl didn’t lessen either when Garrett called out something else.
“It’s over already. Backup lost the guy in pursuit,” her brother announced.
“It’s over,” some of the guests repeated. Slowly, they began to come out of hiding. Hugging each other. Crying. Praying. Most still in shock.
Katelyn groaned and scrubbed her hand over her face. Judas. This wasn’t over. In fact, that buzz in the back of her head told her it wasn’t over by a long shot.
The killer had just gotten started.

Chapter Three
Joe reread the overview of the proposed mission that Lieutenant Brayden O’Malley had handed him just minutes earlier. The overview didn’t read any better the second time around, and he didn’t hold out hope that a third read would make it any more palatable.
There were quite a few points of contention so Joe chose the first one. “You really think the shooting day before yesterday was a result of a botched burglary of the building next to Sacred Heart church?”
“No,” O’Malley readily answered. “But I’d rather have the press report that than link it with the shooting that happened a week earlier.”
Joe nodded, but the two shootings wouldn’t stay unlinked for long. All it would take was another incident, and unfortunately another incident was probably in the planning stages. That is, if the gunman hadn’t already finalized his next hit. But the real question was—was the killer linked to the matchmaking agency or the florist?
Or neither?
The or neither was the most troublesome scenario of them all. If the shootings weren’t connected through the businesses, then maybe they had a thrill killer or just a plain psycho on their hands.
Not that they didn’t have that anyway.
But Joe preferred his psychos to keep to a discernable pattern, because with hard work and some luck, patterns could be identified.
“The shell casings taken from the two crime scenes didn’t match,” Katelyn said, reading from a copy of the overview. She gave a weary sigh. “So that complicates things.”
“It just means our shooter likes to trade off weapons,” Joe advised her. “It doesn’t mean the crimes aren’t related.”
Another sigh from her. This one wasn’t weary. It had a you-think? tinge to it.
“Arguments? Comments? Objections?” Lieutenant O’Malley asked. “If so, direct them to me and not at each other.”
The man was definitely a multitasker. While he tossed out those leading questions and semireprimands, he looked through a report, scrawled his signature on it and tossed it into his out-box before he went onto the next one. But then, no one had ever accused this particular O’Malley of being inefficient. Just the opposite. The only accusation had been in the area of his preferential treatment.
“Concerns,” Joe volunteered.
Time to move on to point two. He had a lot of concerns, but the major one was the woman with the short, flame-red hair who was sitting next to him. Now the question was how to voice that concern without thoroughly riling Katelyn’s oldest brother, a man he had no desire to rile. Even under a cloud of suspicion, Brayden was formidable. Joe’s investigation into departmental favoritism would no doubt irritate the man enough without adding more to the mix.
“Sergeant Rico thinks this case is too personal for me,” Katelyn countered. “He believes I should step aside because I knew Gail.”
And with that totally accurate observation, she looked across the desk that separated them and met her brother’s gaze. In the next few seconds, at least a hundred or more words passed between them, even though neither spoke.
It was an interesting encounter to watch.
The lieutenant stared at her and lifted his eyebrow, just a fraction. That was it. No other change in his otherwise calm, authoritative expression. Yet the simple gesture caused Katelyn’s mouth to tighten, and her grip on the chair arm whitened her knuckles. Joe could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a full ten degrees. It was the most efficient warning he’d ever witnessed.
“Your sister has renegade tendencies,” Joe added, feeling that after what’d just happened, he was probably preaching to the choir. Still, a little choir preaching might go a long way to some changes in this mission proposal. “I’d prefer to work with another detective on this case.”
And Joe already had one in mind. Detective Dawn Davidson, a veteran officer who’d worked a serial killer case just the year before. She had the experience and from all accounts was levelheaded.
“Bringing in another detective might be a problem.” The lieutenant extracted a manila folder from a stack and slid it Joe’s way. “This’ll be an undercover assignment, and Katelyn already has her foot in the door.”
“What door?” Joe asked.
“At the matchmaking agency that might be connected to the two shootings.”
Judging from the soft groan that Katelyn made and the way she sank slightly lower in her chair, this would not please him. From the lieutenant’s elevated eyebrow, it didn’t please him much, either.
“I must have missed that foot-in-the-door part when reading the overview,” Joe commented.
Brayden pointed to the folder. “It’s all in there.”
Katelyn turned slightly away when he opened it and kept her attention focused on her brother. The top page in the folder was a rather lengthy questionnaire from the Perfect Match Agency, and it was dated a week earlier. It’d been filled out just two days after the first shooting.
And the name at the top?
Kate Kennedy.
Joe felt a groan coming on, as well.
“Is this your handiwork?” he asked her.
“Yes. But no one at Perfect Match has any idea that I’m a cop. No one. Kennedy is obviously an alias.” Katelyn directed the rest of her explanation to her brother. “I wanted to get a look at the people who worked there. I figured this was the fastest way to do it.”
“But not the smartest way,” Joe quickly let her know. “You could have jeopardized everything by going in there on your own.”
“But I didn’t.” Moving to the edge of her seat, she repeated it to her brother. “I can do whatever you need me to do to make this undercover assignment work.”
“I’m not the one you need to convince, Katelyn. The chief assigned Sergeant Rico as the lead for this case.” And the lieutenant sat back and left it at that.
The proverbial ball had just been tossed into Joe’s proverbial court.
Unfortunately, he also knew how these next few minutes were about to play out.
Hell.
Katelyn O’Malley had certainly put him in a hard place with her coloring-outside-the-lines attitude. Still, it’d only compound the problem if he let his personal feelings influence the most logical way to approach this. Well, it was the most logical approach considering she’d already tossed a monkey wrench or two into the scenario. “It wouldn’t be smart for me to use another detective at this point,” Joe concluded, speaking more to himself than the O’Malleys. He glanced at the questionnaire while he finished up his explanation. It figured. Katelyn had listed chili as her favorite food. “If the killer’s part of the Perfect Match Agency, then he or she might be suspicious of anyone registering so soon after the second shooting.”
“Guess that leaves you out then, huh?” Katelyn all but smirked at him.
Even though it was borderline petty, Joe liked it when people did that, especially when he could smirk right back. He calmly shuffled through the papers in the folder, extracted his own questionnaire and passed it to her.
Her eyes widened and skimmed over the first page. “You filled this out the same day I did?”
Let the smirking begin. “Yes.”
She hissed out a breath. “Need I remind you that you just accused me of jumping the gun by going to the agency?”
“The difference is—I was on this case, and you weren’t.” Joe held out his hands to emphasize the space. “Big difference. I’m talking huge.”
The temperature went down another notch, and her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Which brings us up-to-date, I believe,” Brayden interjected. Good timing, Joe thought, since Katelyn looked ready to implode. “We have to act fast. There are only five days until Saturday. Five days until a whole host of weddings are scheduled to take place all over the city. Five days to stop a killer from striking again.”
Joe was well aware of that. Those five days were already breathing down his neck. “I’ve learned the florist in question is doing the flower arrangements for two weddings this weekend, one Saturday, another Sunday night. But neither couple met through the Perfect Match Agency. If fact, I haven’t been able to connect any of the upcoming marriages to a matchmaking agency.”
“Neither have I.” Katelyn pulled out her own set of notes from a leather briefcase that was leaning against her chair. “And therein lies our problem. Perfect Match doesn’t release all the names of their former customers who’ve made wedding plans. So it becomes a needle-in-a-haystack approach.”
“It’s the only approach we have right now,” Joe fired back. “We could stake out all the weddings in San Antonio, but it’ll eat up a ton of manpower and cause people to ask too many questions and maybe even panic. Plus, there are the other ceremonies, the ones that aren’t listed in the paper. We wouldn’t be able to cover those. So our best bet is to go back to the source of the connection—the Perfect Match Agency. They require matched couples to meet there first for an icebreaker, and there’s one every Tuesday night, including tomorrow night.”
“It starts at seven-thirty,” Katelyn provided. “We don’t need an invitation. We just need to be computer matched…somehow.”
It didn’t surprise Joe that she knew those details. She’d probably already picked out the clothes she was going to wear. And she’d done all of that before even being officially assigned to the team.
His team.
He hoped like the devil that she didn’t wear those sexy stilettos and the little green outfit. He’d have enough distractions as it was.
“Detective O’Malley and I’ll do this intro thing tomorrow night at Perfect Match,” Joe continued, making sure he sounded like the boss. Because after the minifantasy involving her choice of fashion, he needed the reminder in the worst sort of way. “We’ll pretend we were high school sweethearts and that we’re surprised but happy to be reunited.”
She nodded. “Good idea. And that’ll explain a hasty engagement and equally hasty marriage.”
“Well, hopefully.” It might also make the wrong person suspicious, but he’d deal with that when and if it happened. “While we’re there, we’ll have a good look around the place. Without breaking the law, of course.”
Another you-think? huff from Katelyn.
Joe ignored her and continued. “In the meantime, I’ll keep going through the background checks I’ve been doing on the employees and the owners of Perfect Match and the florist.”
“I’ve done backgrounds checks, as well,” Katelyn informed him.
Joe bobbed his head. “Of course you have.”
The woman had an incredibly effective scalpel-sharp glare. “I’m not an idiot. I did them discretely.”
Joe might have questioned her on what she considered discrete, but the lieutenant spoke first. “Sounds as if you have everything under control.”
Not even close.
Joe kept that sentiment to himself.
“Good.” Brayden stood and reached for the jacket draped over the back of his chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the chief. Feel free to use my office to hash out the rest of the details. Oh, and it goes without saying—keep me informed.”
“Wait,” Katelyn called out when her brother headed for the door. “You’re both missing a key point. Yes, Sergeant Rico and I filled out these questionnaires, but that in itself doesn’t give us a computer match. I hate to state the obvious here, but the computer does that. In fact, it generates a list of matches so the candidates can meet the people at the icebreaker. What if neither of us has any matches? What then? We can’t just show up.”
“I’d planned to have one of the techs go into the system and arrange for the questionnaires to be matched,” Joe explained.
Katelyn shook her head. “That sounds risky. Someone at the agency might figure out—”
“A match isn’t a problem,” Brayden assured them. “It’s all in the folder.”
There was something about the lieutenant’s strange, almost self-satisfied expression that sent Joe thumbing through the rest of the papers in the file. Katelyn must have had the same feeling, because she leaned closer so she could see the documents, as well.
It didn’t take Joe long to find it. There it was. The dozen or so men listed as “dream date” matches for client 6341B, Kate Kennedy. His own alias, Joe Farrell, was the first name on the list.
He felt as if someone had slugged him in the solar plexus.
“You already had the tech rig the system?” Joe asked. But he didn’t think that’s what had generated the look on the lieutenant’s face.
“No. The two of you matched without any tech interference.” Brayden’s eyebrows flexed. “For once, Murphy’s Law worked in our favor. Let’s hope that luck continues.”
And with that little scud missile attack, the lieutenant left them sitting there in somewhat stunned silence.
“It had to be the chili,” Joe mumbled under his breath.
Or maybe Katelyn just jotted down a whole bunch of lies while filling out the questionnaire. He hadn’t, that was for sure. Unnecessary lies were just too hard to keep track of, so with the exception of his name, address and occupation, everything else was true.
Yet, they’d matched.
Even if she’d lied, that was an unsettling coincidence because it meant her lies matched his truths.
Joe quietly pushed that coincidence aside and moved on to the mission at hand.
“I’ll see you at the Perfect Match tomorrow night.” He stood and tucked the folder beneath his arm. “Until then, we keep doing these background checks and hope we find a smoking gun. Oh, and by the way, I insist the officers on my team follow the rules. My rules,” he emphasized. “If you jeopardize this assignment again—”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, I’ll have your butt and your badge.”
She nodded, after a contemplative moment.
Joe almost decided to leave it at that, but there was something he couldn’t leave unsaid. “I hope it’s occurred to you that this plan is designed to send a killer after us.”
No hesitation this time. “It has.”
Good. At least underneath all that wisecracking talk, Katelyn O’Malley was smart enough to know what they were up against.
And what they were up against was a killer.
Even more, the moment they stepped inside Perfect Match, they would become the ultimate bait.

Chapter Four
Katelyn fanned herself with the Perfect Match folder.
Even though the sun was on the verge of setting, the summer heat was still escaping in filmy waves off the asphalt. It was muggy. A Texas-June kind of muggy that even the locals complained about. The air was heavy with exhaust fumes and the steamy smoke from the mesquite grills of a nearby patio restaurant. Not exactly an enticing combination, but the aroma of spicy fajitas was somehow pushing its way through the rest of the less appetizing scents.
She willed herself not to sweat as she hurried across the parking lot toward the sprawling building that housed the Perfect Match Agency. Willing didn’t work. A slick bead of perspiration slithered down the center of her back, and for a couple of seconds, she entertained a pipe dream of stopping by the restaurant for a virgin frozen margarita.
This wasn’t, however, the time for pipe dreams or sweat-cooling margaritas, even virgin ones. It was time to look for a killer.
Katelyn stepped through the front door of the agency, mumbled a thank-you! for the Arctic blast of the A/C and made her way to the reception area.
An empty area, she soon learned.
Empty, no doubt, because she was early. But then, she usually was. Brayden joked that she’d inherited some bizarre fear-of-being-late gene, but her early arrival in this case would allow her time to double-check the few things she could actually double check. Exits. Bullet-accessible windows. Security cameras, like the one mounted on the light fixture in the center of the room. It also gave her some time to take a deep breath and steady her nerves.
Someone had decorated the spacious rectangle-shaped room. Unlike her earlier visit, tonight there were bunches of gold Mylar balloons in the corners, huge bouquets of cream-colored flowers in crystal vases and bottles of champagne angled into gleaming silver ice buckets. Soft, romantic music filled the background. The stage was set for love.
But hopefully not murder.
She was armed with a Glock in her purse. It was her preferred poison when she needed to carry light. And thanks to the flexible, pencil-size device beneath her collar, she had two-way communication with headquarters. However, neither of those two security measures would give her much protection if someone opened fire through the trio of floor-to-ceiling windows. For all practical purposes, she was on her own.
An obvious drawback to being early.
The sudden clicking sound sent her reaching for her gun, but Katelyn forced herself not to draw. She needed to stay in character. It was a good thing, too. Because the click was a door opening, and the blond-haired man who came in through the side entrance wasn’t carrying a weapon but another bottle of champagne.
He immediately made eye contact and smiled, a slightly too-friendly smile, before he proceeded to the table with the champagne. “Kate Kennedy, right?”
“Yes.”
Katelyn didn’t have to ask his name. He was Bruce Donovan. Age, twenty-nine. A local, but that sun-bleached hair, tropical tan and muscled torso seemed more suited to a California beach than the Alamo City. His official job title was office manager of the Perfect Match Agency.
He was also a prime murder suspect.
Of course, anyone associated with the agency was a suspect, but Donovan was near the top of that list. According to his background check, he’d been hit with not one but two restraining orders for stalking former girlfriends. The last incident had escalated into an assault. Combined with the fact that he was from San Antonio and a white male, it meant he fit their profile to a proverbial tee.
“I’m Bruce Donovan,” he greeted. “I run things around here. In fact, I’m the one who processed your application.” His face got a contemplative look for several seconds, then he snapped his fingers. “You’re a P.E. teacher on break for the summer. You like old Indiana Jones movies, basketball and chili.”
He grinned as if pleased with himself for recalling that information. Katelyn didn’t return the grin. If he actually memorized details about every client, it was a little unnerving. If he’d only memorized her details, then it went well past the unnerving stage.
“I remember because I kept thinking what a great match we’d be,” he continued. “But unfortunately since I work here, I’m not allowed to pair up with any of the clients. Well, not officially anyway.”
Good grief. As if he hadn’t gotten his message across, he aimed another flirtatious grin in her direction.
“So do a lot of people actually find their perfect match at these icebreakers?” she asked.
“Depends on your definition of perfect.”
“A lifelong partner,” Katelyn quickly offered.
“Ah, marriage.” He shrugged. “Sure, it happens.” But that was as far as he took the thread of conversation.
She pointed to the wall above the table. “You should put photos of the happy couples there. It’d be great publicity.”
“I’ll pass on your suggestion to my boss.” He placed the bottle of champagne on the table, searched through the two dozen or so plastic-encased name tags and picked up one.
Hers, apparently.
He crossed the room and reached out as if to pin it on her jacket, just over her left breast, but Katelyn intervened and took it from him instead. So he was perhaps a groping pervert in addition to being a stalker and a killer.
What a pleasant guy.
His all-American surfer-dude smile faded. He probably wasn’t happy with her insistence that she pin on her own name tag.
Katelyn nodded her greeting in lieu of a handshake, and she tried to pick up on any other vibes. There was definitely that little buzz in the back of her head, but it’d been there since she’d first stepped foot in the place. And speaking of stepping, she backtracked a little toward the door so she could take cover in case Donovan was aiming for a third restraining order.
Donovan tipped his head to the glossy gold-and-white Perfect Match folder she’d tucked beneath her arm. “So did you see any immediate prospects on your list?”
“One. But it could be a coincidence.” Since it was time to do a little more stage setting, she pinned on her name tag and opened the folder. She pointed to Joe’s alias. “I dated a guy by that name in high school.”
Something darted through his coffee-brown eyes. Concern, maybe? “Is that good or bad?”
“Definitely good. He’s the one who got away, if you know what I mean.”
He made a sound of superficial agreement and then quickly excused himself to leave when a man and a woman came in. Not Joe. But from the already friendly chatter and come-and-get-me smiles, these two had already decided they were a good match.
Once the two newcomers had on their name tags, Katelyn whispered their identities so the tech back at headquarters could begin background checks. In case something serious developed between them, she didn’t want this couple to become the sniper’s next targets.
“Kate Kennedy?” she heard the now-familiar voice say. “Is that really you?”
It was show time. She took a long breath, braced herself and turned toward him to start the charade.
Oh, mercy.
She obviously hadn’t braced herself nearly enough.
At the wedding, she’d seen Joe Rico’s GQ look, and over the past couple of days, his urban cop look of khakis and button-down dress shirts. But this was obviously his cool hot-guy look.
It worked.
Black pants, perfectly tailored. A deep crimson red crewneck pullover that hugged his chest the way men’s chests should be hugged. Well, men with great chests, anyway.
Which he had.
The breeze coming in from the still-open door stirred his lightweight jacket. Also black. He’d likely worn it to conceal his .357 Magnum, but it made him look a little mysterious, confident. And dangerous.
Katelyn bet he’d never had to take a deep breath to steady himself. On the other hand, she required several more.
“Joe?” she managed to say, when she remembered how to form words. Sheez, her throat actually clamped up. She added a staged giggle of excitement to unclamp it. “It is you. I can’t believe this.”
As they’d discussed, Joe and she went to each other immediately, and he pulled her into his arms. Yep. He was definitely carrying concealed, and there was a backup in the slide holster on the rear waist of his pants.
“You’re early,” he whispered.
“You’re not,” she countered, also in a whisper.
“I was busy. We might have a little problem.”
Okay. Little didn’t sound so bad. Little problems always arose during undercover missions. “What—”
That’s as far as Katelyn got.
Joe brushed his mouth over hers. A friendly sort of gesture—which they’d also discussed should happen. In theory, such a gesture was supposed to announce to the people at the agency that they were staking their personal claims on each other. Like his clothes, it worked. Katelyn heard the other couple and Bruce Donovan mention something about an apparent perfect match.
Katelyn also heard her heart pounding in her ears and felt her body turning soft and warm.
And she cursed herself.
Talk about being a hormonal wimp. Somehow, she had to make herself immune to any carnal-related reactions to Joe Rico, and she did that with a simple reminder that he was not only her boss but also the man investigating her brother.
That immediately cooled off her body.
She pulled back, both literally and figuratively.
“Incoming, six o’clock,” Joe whispered.
In other words, someone was approaching from directly behind her. While Joe kept her firmly against him, she turned her head, already smiling, and came face-to-face with Addison Merrick, the owner of Perfect Match. He was also one of their suspects.
He seemed younger than Katelyn had expected, and she’d expected young. Merrick was barely twenty-six but could have passed for a teenager. Well, except for the gunmetal-gray eyes. There was something not so youthful about them.
Merrick wasn’t alone. A broad-shouldered man came into the reception area with him and took up position near the door. It was Katelyn’s guess that he wasn’t a client looking for love but was rather a bodyguard. Maybe this was the little problem Joe had mentioned.
“I smell success,” Merrick greeted.
No all-American, surfer-dude smile from him. It was on the mechanical side. Probably no perverted, name-tag-pinning intentions, either. He looked more like the Ivy League type. And was. Old money. And from all accounts Perfect Match was a gift from his megasuccessful father. A way of keeping Addison a productive member of society. So far, it’d worked. Despite a fairly recent dip in business, it was the most successful agency of its type in the city.
“Kate Kennedy, Joe Farrell,” Merrick continued. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome.”
She felt Joe stiffen slightly but couldn’t ask him why. It probably had something to do with the guard who was studying them a little too carefully.
Joe extended his hand to Merrick. “Thanks. It looks like joining Perfect Match was the wise thing to do.” He smiled lovingly at Katelyn before he slid his attention back to Merrick. “By the way, a friend of mine said he might be here tonight. Chad Benton. Have you seen him?”
Chad Benton? Katelyn had no idea what this was about. There was no one by that name associated with this case.
Merrick shook his head. “We’re expecting a big crowd so you might want to check to see if your friend’s name tag is on the table.”
Merrick’s suggestion was just the beginning, however, and not a prelude to a departure. He wasted no time latching on to her hand, and like a good host, he introduced Joe and her to the other couple. By the time he’d finished, more clients had started to trickle in.
Bruce Donovan did his hosting duties, as well. He began pouring the champagne—lots of it. Nothing like alcohol to kick up the libido and lower the defenses. The piped-in music switched to a slow, sultry beat.
“What about that little problem?” she asked Joe the moment Merrick walked away. She looped her arm through his and leaned against him, snuggling, so she could speak as softly as possible.
“Someone’s watching the place.”
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t so little after all. “Any idea who?”
“Yeah.”
Again, no explanation since groping-boy, Bruce Donovan, walked up to them with a tray of filled champagne glasses. Even when they both declined, the man didn’t move far enough away for them to have a private conversation.
Joe remedied that. Smiling and whispering sweet nothings about how glad he was to see her again, he led Katelyn to the far end of the room and then just inside the hallway that led to the agency’s offices. He angled them so they wouldn’t be facing the camera in the reception room.
“Fiona Shipley,” Joe informed her. When the static crackled in their respective communicators, he turned his off, because the now close proximity was interfering with reception. “She’s parked outside watching the building.”
Katelyn didn’t have to ask who that was. Fiona was a regular client at Perfect Match and a former acquaintance of Raul Hernandez, the murdered groom, and that was former acquaintance in a really bad way. After Fiona and Raul had met, dated and then broken up, she had apparently threatened him. The police had been looking for her but hadn’t been able to locate her—not since she’d quit her job and moved out of her apartment. Apparently though, she’d come to them.
“No sign of her carrying an assault rifle, huh?” Katelyn asked, only partly joking.
“Not that I could see, but I’ve got two officers in a surveillance van watching her just in case.” Joe glanced over his shoulder and mumbled some profanity. “Play along.”
That was it. No other warning. No hint that he was about to launch into a full-contact charade.
Joe pushed her against the wall and kissed her. He pressed his body against her. Snugly against her. Until they were aligned like human puzzle parts.
Katelyn caught a glimpse of Addison Merrick watching them from the reception room. So this was Joe’s version of a get-lost tactic.
Joe kept the mouth-to-mouth clinical. Well, as clinical as something like that could be, considering he had a rather hot kissing technique. No tongue involved. Just pressure. The right amount of pressure, glide and moisture to make her wish, at least temporarily, that he’d use his tongue.
He didn’t stop there. His kisses traveled from her mouth. To her cheek. To her ear.
Not good.
She bit off a moan of pleasure. It seemed trivial, considering everything else that was going on, but if these forced kissing sessions continued, she would need to set some ground rules so he could go easy on her erogenous zones.
“Any suspicious activity around the perimeter of the building?” Joe murmured.
Not exactly the sensual question her body had expected to hear from the man kissing her, and it took her a moment to realize Joe was speaking to the officer monitoring the communicator under her collar.
“Fiona Shipley’s still watching the place,” was the response they got.
Obviously unaware of the effect he was having on her, Joe continued his inquiries while pretending to nibble on her earlobe. “Tail her if she leaves.”
Normally, whispered official orders wouldn’t have been a turn on for her, but Joe’s warm, moist breath hit against her neck and ear. Mercy. Not good. She didn’t want to add any more hormones to this volatile mix.
Another glance at the reception area. No Addison Merrick in sight. At least their kissing session had sent him on his way.
“Merrick knew our names,” Joe informed her. “I wasn’t wearing a name tag, and he never looked at yours. Yet, he knew who we were.”
Katelyn went back through the events of that particular introduction and realized it was true. She reprimanded herself for not noticing it, as well. “So that’s what Chad was all about?”
Not a real person but a test. Since Merrick suggested that Joe look through the name tags, it meant he didn’t know the names of all the guests. And unlike a few of the others, Joe and she weren’t repeat customers. Nor had they met him when they filled out their applications.
So how had he known their names?
“This might not be such a little problem,” Katelyn mumbled.
Joe quickly agreed.
In fact, it could mean the killer was already on to them.

Chapter Five
Joe should have been thinking about Addison Merrick. Specifically, about the fact the man was obviously suspicious of them.
With reason.
Both Katelyn and he had registered at Perfect Match just days after the murders. That said, only the shooter himself would have likely made the connection at this point. And that meant that Merrick was possibly their wedding sniper.
So why wasn’t his attention on Merrick or the “security guard” he’d brought with him?
Because Joe was involuntarily sharing that attention with the woman he had plastered against him, that’s why.
He was a fool to notice how nicely Katelyn fit in his arms. A fool to notice that she tasted almost as good as she looked. And basically, he was just a fool to have thought he could kiss her and not lust after her. That meant he had to do something about it.
Joe slid his fingers beneath her collar and temporarily turned off the audio feed on her communicator. The surveillance officers would be able to talk to them, to warn them if necessary, but they wouldn’t be able to hear what he was about to admit to Detective O’Malley.
“We’d better try to keep the kissing to a minimum from now on,” he whispered.
“Sure,” she readily agreed.
Too readily.
Which meant all the supposedly for-show making out probably had an effect on her, as well. Joe didn’t care much for the fact that it pleased him a little. This wasn’t a competition, but sometimes it felt like one.
“Hey, contrary to public opinion, I’m human,” Katelyn said, frowning. And probably so she wouldn’t have to add more to an already uncomfortable conversation, she reconnected her communicator.
“Any indication that Addison Merrick has been investigating us?” she whispered to the person on the other end of that communicator.
Joe wished he’d thought of the question first, which was only more proof that he needed a serious mental adjustment. This case was critical. People’s lives were at stake, including theirs. Heck, even his promotion to lieutenant was probably riding on this. It was no time for lust.
He repeated all of that to himself several times and hoped those reminders stayed reminders for the rest of this assignment.
“He didn’t trigger any info markers to indicate an investigation,” the other officer answered through the communicator. “But then, with his resources, that’s not surprising.”
In other words, Merrick could have done a full-scale check on them—or rather on their false identities—and they wouldn’t have known.
“Hypothetically, what would Merrick have learned?” Joe asked.
He glanced at the person who stopped at the end of the hallway. Bruce Donovan. Joe didn’t think it was his imagination that the man cast a suspicious glance their way. It made sense. If there’d been a computer search, Donovan would have likely been the one to do it. But the real question was—had Donovan instigated that search on his own, or had Merrick ordered it?
“The only thing Merrick could have gotten was what was in the fake files we created for you and Detective O’Malley,” the officer explained. “Fake employment and financial records. Phony e-mail accounts. The addresses of the apartments that were rented to support your covers. That sort of thing. If they went after your real backgrounds, we’d know.”
Katelyn opened her mouth, probably to respond to that, but she’d obviously not seen Donovan and his spying eyes. Just in case the man was eavesdropping, Joe did a quick maneuver and put his mouth right against her ear.
“Save your questions,” he mumbled. “We have company.”
She groaned softly.
So with this latest round of surveillance, things weren’t going exactly as planned. Joe had hoped to establish the pretense of the reunited couple, leave Katelyn in the reception area and have a look around while she covered for him. He’d only managed the first of those and would likely have to save that search for another day. They would have to return anyway in two days, on Thursday, to announce their engagement. By then, he’d figure out a way to do the search.
“Fiona Shipley’s about to drive away,” Joe heard the backup officer announce into the communicator.
“Go after her.” And that meant with the heavy scrutinization from Merrick and Donovan, it was a good time for him to get Katelyn out of there, as well. He caught her arm. “Let’s say our goodbyes. We’ll come back later for your car.”
“Wait.” She held her ground. “We still haven’t looked around the place.”
“And it won’t happen tonight.” Joe had to pull her closer to him so he could whisper. “You heard—things aren’t exactly routine around here, and now we’re without backup because they have to go after Fiona Shipley.”
She wanted to argue. He could see it in the depth of those slightly narrowed eyes. Heck, he wanted to argue, too. And he really wanted to stay and see what he could find. But he wouldn’t do that at the expense of further risking her life. There were already enough risks without him bending the rules.
Since there was no way to make this sound better, Joe just came out with it. “It’s time to act as if we’re ready to drag each other off to bed.”
Which wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him.
A few mumbled words of profanity from her, but she cooperated by sliding her arm inside his coat and around his waist. She even added a sultry chuckle and nudged him playfully with her hip.
Nope.
The pretense of dragging her off to bed wouldn’t be much of a stretch at all.
Bruce Donovan stepped in front of them when they started across the reception area. “Hey, you’re not leaving already, huh?” he asked, seemingly shocked.
“Kate and I have some, uh, catching up to do.” Joe made sure there were enough undertones in that remark.
Too bad Donovan didn’t pick up on those undertones. He placed his hand on Katelyn’s arm and gave her an almost intimate rub with his fingers. His fingers even strayed a bit in the direction of Katelyn’s breast.

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