Hard to Kill Page 5

  “I was hoping you’d stay. It has been nice having a woman in the house again. I’d be happy if you would remain a part of my life.”

  A proposition, or even a proposal, nicely rendered, without undue pressure. Kellen knew now she could trust him not to hurt her, and with a man like this, her life would be pleasant and easy.

  But no. She wasn’t ready for a relationship. She didn’t know if she ever would be again.

  Gently, Kellen touched his arm. “General, I will always be your friend.”

  9

  Kellen sat back in the leather seat and accepted the glass of pinot noir from the flight attendant. She had never traveled first class before. The gate agent had said something about her status as former military, but Kellen suspected that General Slater might have had something to do with it.

  Wrapping her complimentary blanket around her legs, Kellen reviewed the news stories on her computer. She found an article in The Times out of London about the flurry surrounding a Rubens painting called “Raising of Lazarus,” found by US Army Major Brock Aimes and examined by the Victoria and Albert Museum. Before the reward could be granted, the painting was found to be the work of a master forger. The official was held on suspicion of trying to trick the museum with a fake masterpiece. In addition, the article noted, in a sensational scene, Aimes had been accused of attempted murder by his commanding officer and faced military court-martial.

  Kellen smiled out the window at the clouds and sky.

  What a delightful end to that story.

  She remembered what General Slater had said to her on the curb at the airport in Munich.

  “Kellen, I’ve kept my promises. You have your medical discharge. The Victoria and Albert Museum declared the Monets are authentic, and James and Laurie Roy recently received a visit from two officers stationed near their home in Nebraska. They were informed that while nothing could replace their child, the United States Army was proud to present them with a hefty sum because their son’s efforts to decode his great-grandfather’s diary had led to the recovery of priceless works of art.”

  “Very good, sir!”

  “Yes, I thought you’d like that last part—since you didn’t want the credit, anyway.”

  “I’m delighted for the Roy family. Thank you.”

  “You have your portion of the reward. What will you do with such a sum?” Once again, he was watching her too perceptively.

  “I’ve earmarked it for a particular project.”

  “I thought that might be the case... I hope you keep a little of the money for yourself. It will give you a sense of security as you interview for that position you mentioned—what was it? Assistant manager at Yearning Sands Resort?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No need to call me ‘sir’ anymore, Kellen. I’m not your superior officer now. I’m your friend, and that’s an honor I recognize. From now on, you can call me Lawrence.” Slater offered his hand.

  Kellen shook it. “Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll let you know if I’m ever back in Germany.”

  “Have a safe trip back home.”

  She felt his gaze on her all the way into the airport.

  Now, as she sat in her comfy seat on the plane and looked out the window at the darkening sky, she contemplated where her reward had been sent, and she smiled.

  * * *

  In North Dakota, Harlow Hackett ran down a country lane near his home. Maybe one day he would run in competition again, but in the meantime—he smelled the prairie grass and felt the breeze in his face, and his legs—the good old leg that had gone to war with him and his new running prosthesis—moved with the rhythm of his joy.

  * * * * *

  Can’t get enough Kellen Adams? Don’t miss the first book in New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd’s pulse-pounding Cape Charade series, Dead Girl Running, available now! Read on for a sneak peek...

  Dead Girl Running

  by Christina Dodd

  I have three confessions:

  I’ve got the scar of a gunshot on my forehead.

  I don’t remember an entire year of my life.

  My name is Kellen Adams...and that’s half a lie.

  2

  Washington State’s Pacific Coast

  Yearning Sands Resort

  January of this year

  On January 27, a low tide revealed ocean caves normally submerged by water, Leo and Annie Di Luca left on vacation, a woman’s mutilated corpse was found on the grounds and it rained.

  The rain was business as usual.

  In early November, US Army veteran Kellen Adams had accepted the position of assistant resort manager. Annie had warned her she had arrived at the beginning of what the locals called the Monsoon Season.

  Kellen had chuckled.

  But they weren’t kidding. In winter, on the Washington coast, wind blew. Rain fell. The sun rose late and set early. Every day was an endless gray. The holiday season had been busy and full of guests and lights and cheer, but when the decorations came down and January trudged on, their few guests came for discounted prices on meals and rooms. The resort used the downtime to paint, repair and clean, and Annie practically pushed the hospitality staff out the doors, telling them to go somewhere sunny and come back refreshed and ready to face the Valentine’s Day rush. Everyone snatched at their chance to vacation elsewhere, and they knew where to find deals. They were, after all, in the hospitality business. They had connections.

  Kellen told Annie she had nowhere to go, no relatives to visit and no desire to smell coconut-scented sunscreen. She stayed, reveling in the isolation, determined to learn everything Annie could teach her, and kept so busy she fell into bed at night and rose early in the morning. She loved the schedule; it left her little time to think, to remember—and to not remember.

  Then on that dark, cold, rainy morning of January 27, Annie followed her own advice. She and Leo prepared to fly to warm and sunny Bella Terra, California, to celebrate their family holidays at the original Di Luca family resort.

  Under the hotel portico, a group of elderly tourists climbed into a tour bus, so Annie rolled in her wheelchair through the rain toward the limousine.

  Her assistance dog, a black Lab named Hammett, trotted beside her.

  Kellen walked on the other side, holding an umbrella and protecting Annie from the windblown blasts of rain, her brain’s little quirk kicking in, her mind subconsciously scrolling through its catalog of data on the elderly woman:

  ANNIE DI LUCA:

  FEMALE, WHITE, ELDERLY, HEIGHT UNDETERMINED. TOO THIN. CURLY WHITE HAIR, GREAT CUT, BROWN EYES. WHEELCHAIR BOUND. RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS. RESORT MANAGER. BRILLIANT WITH STAFF AND GUESTS. KIND TO A FAULT. FRAIL. HUSBAND: NAPOLEONE (LEO) DI LUCA, MARRIED “SINCE THE EARTH’S CRUST COOLED.”

  “We’ll be back in two weeks,” Annie said. “After my last experience with an assistant, I was determined not to hire a replacement. But Leo insisted, and you know the only reason I relented was because you were a wounded veteran.”

  “I wasn’t that wounded.” Kellen rotated her shoulder.

  “Enough that the Army discharged you!”

  “Men were killed.” I was unconscious for two days. Had an MRI to discover the cause of my coma. Tricky things, land mines. Woke to find myself being discharged; I hadn’t realized the military could process paperwork that fast.

  “I’m sorry, dear, about the deaths. I know how you feel about your comrades in arms.”

  They reached the car where Mitchell Nyugen waited to drive the Di Lucas to the airstrip. Again her mind spun and Mitch’s info popped up, like a little index card:

  MITCHELL NYUGEN:

  MALE. VIETNAMESE AMERICAN, SECOND-GENERATION, 26, 5’9”, 160 LBS., EXCELLENT PHYSICAL CONDITION, NEEDS LITTLE SLEEP. NO AFFECTIONATE ATTACHMENTS. ARMY VETERAN, HONORABLE DISCHARGE. EXPERT LICENSED DRIVER—MI
LITARY VEHICLES + COMMERCIAL DRIVER’S LICENSE (CDL) (TRACTOR TRAILER). EMPLOYED 79 DAYS—DRIVER, MECHANIC, ELECTRONICS. FRIEND.

  Mitch was one of Kellen’s men. Skilled woodworkers, electricians, maintenance and handy workers didn’t have to come to Washington in the wettest, darkest, most miserable time of the year, so when Annie appealed to Kellen for a chauffeur, Kellen had in turn appealed to Mitch. Mitch, who had been driving long hours for a trucking company, leaped at the chance to work at the resort.

  He was the first of her people to arrive at Yearning Sands.

  Now he opened the door and Hammett hopped onto his cushion on the floor. Mitch dried the dog, then picked Annie up and deposited her on the seat.

  “Thank you, Mitch. When Leo comes out, will you help him with the bags?” she asked.

  “Of course, Mrs. Di Luca.” Mitch backed out of the car.

  “That boy is so formal,” Annie said to Kellen. “I’ve told him to call me Annie, and he won’t.”

  “He’s from the South. Houston. Things are more formal there. He still calls me captain.”

  “Half of the staff call you captain.” Annie patted the seat. “Won’t you come in and sit for a minute?”

  Kellen shed her rain poncho and handed Mitch the umbrella before easing inside. She took a second towel and dried Hammett some more, then scratched him under the chin. As she stroked his soft head, the anxiety she felt about taking charge of the resort faded.

  Mitch shut the door, encasing the two in quiet leather luxury, and walked around to put the wheelchair in the trunk.

  Annie shivered, and Hammett abandoned Kellen to snuggle closer to Annie’s legs.

  Annie took Kellen’s hand in her cold, fragile fingers. “Every day you’ve been a blessing. I never dreamed anyone could pick up the hospitality business so quickly.”

  Kellen couldn’t explain. She didn’t even understand herself how she could meet a person and forever after see them as a list of attributes, or view two timelines and mentally integrate them, or take four spreadsheets and shuffle them through the circuits of her brain and instantly come up with ways to improve operations. It was a gift.

  She touched the scar on her forehead. A gift that had come at a great price. “Business I understand,” Kellen said. “The guests and the staff are the challenge.”

  “You are very private.”

  For good reasons.

  “Yet you handled people when you were the officer in charge of moving men and goods around a war zone,” Annie said. “No one’s shooting at you here. This has to be easier.”

  “The people I managed in the Army had one thing in common—they were soldiers. We were united in one goal—to come out alive.”

  Annie laughed. Probably she thought Kellen was joking.

  “We—my military friends and I—are all of us grateful that you’ve welcomed us so generously.”

  “Leo says I take in strays.” Annie looked startled at her own insensitivity. “I’m not trying to say that you’re a...”

  “It’s all right. I understand. Since my discharge, I have been adrift. It’s difficult to go from being part of a close-knit military community to being...alone.”

  “I can promise, you’ll never be alone again.”

  Another odd statement from the normally diplomatic Annie. Perhaps leaving on vacation made her lose her usual delicacy. “The staff we left in place for you to manage is well trained. Everyone is up-to-date on their first aid certifications, and they can handle all the jobs—although some better than others. We have very few scheduled guests incoming, so hopefully difficulties will be few and far between.” With an expression of dismay, she knocked on the limousine’s rosewood interior. “Now, why did I say that? I’ve doomed you to difficulties.”

  Kellen shook her head. “I’m not superstitious.” I’m simply afraid of the darkness that stalks me in my own mind.

  “At least there are not too many children scheduled as guests,” Annie said. “That will make it easier for you.”

  “Wrong time of the year. Not many school vacations. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind children. I’ve just never learned how to handle them.” No point.

  Annie asked, “Who do you foresee as your greatest challenge?”

  Kellen promptly said, “Sheri Jean.”

  “Ah, yes. Sheri Jean.” Annie sighed softly. “The best way to handle Sheri Jean is to accord her the respect she deserves.”

  “As I always do.”

  “Her personality is split between her mother and her father, and the two halves are constantly at war. She terrorizes her staff, yet no one makes the guests more comfortable than Sheri Jean.”

  “She’s good at her job, but it’s hard to decipher when she’s going to take offense. Most of the time, I don’t know what I said, and I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and my aunt is a delicate flower.”

  “Really?” Annie’s eyes gleamed. “So you do have relatives?”

  Mistake. Uncomfortably, Kellen admitted, “My uncle and cousin are deceased. My aunt and I don’t communicate.”

  Annie’s kind face grew distressed. “I am sorry. Family can be a blessing and a trial. Like marriage.”

  Kellen’s strained smile faded. Why had Annie introduced the topic of marriage into the conversation? Kellen never wanted to talk about marriage.

  “When I hired you,” Annie confided, “Leo didn’t trust you.”

  Oh. This was about Leo. “I suspected he didn’t trust me when he demanded my records—” birth certificate, undergraduate degree from University of Nevada and business degree from Vanderbilt, honorable discharge from the Army “—be examined to see if they were original and investigated their authenticity.” He had uncovered no deception, of course, but even when he was satisfied, he had continued to watch Kellen like a hawk.

  “It was because of that girl. A nice young woman, but misguided.”

  Was Annie rambling? “What girl?”

  “The girl I hired first. Priscilla Carter.”

  Kellen had heard mutterings about Annie’s first attempt to hire an assistant manager. “The one who left without notice?”

  “She didn’t have to do that. We had already realized she was unsuited for the job and intended to help her find another position. We’re not without heart!” Annie’s cheeks flushed.

  “You’re lovely!” Kellen pressed those cold fingers.

  “Leo says I give too much. I don’t think that’s true, but I did hire Priscilla...” Annie stared out the side window at the wide spread of lawn and the ring of rhododendrons that tossed with each gust of the storm. “Priscilla imagined the resort would be her stepping-stone to a life as a rich man’s wife. Leo reprimanded her twice. I should have reprimanded her myself, but I’m a coward. Then she volunteered to take guests on a tour of the property—and left them out there on the cliffs. It’s one thing to make the resort look bad, but she abandoned elderly guests out there. No compassion!” Annie sounded so hurt.

  Kellen barely knew what to say. “She sounds like a piece of work.”

  “The guests said she fell ill, promised she’d send someone out after them. Sheri Jean didn’t realize the guests had been left until one called. They were worried about Priscilla! We were all worried about her until Leo discovered she had packed her bags, gotten in her car and headed south. She never even contacted us for her final paycheck.”

  “I promise I would never do that.” With a fair amount of humor, Kellen added, “I like my paychecks, and anyway, I don’t have a car.”

  Annie’s brow knit fretfully. “So I should worry when you buy one?”

  “Not even then.”

  “Thank heavens. I...I don’t know what I’d do if you disappeared, never to be found, and I hadn’t told...” Annie seemed to drift off.

  “Told...?” Annie’s rambling was so unlike her, Kellen was concerned.


  “Told him... He’s suffered so much. He’s fretted. He’s searched...”

  “Who? Who’s searched? For what?” Kellen leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Annie’s, and in her brain, a new slot lit up, empty of information and hungering to detail this new person.

  In a normal tone, Annie asked, “Do you have any final questions?”

  “Um, I...I don’t think so. Just, you know, what you were talking about before. Or who you were talking about.”

  Annie brushed her hair off her forehead. “I didn’t sleep well last night. So excited. To go to California, to see the family. But I want to make sure you feel comfortable in your role as resort manager.”

  Because Annie suddenly seemed to need reassurance, Kellen said, “With Mr. Gilfilen to handle security, with the tight staff and the small guest list, this is a great way to introduce me to handling the job of resort manager.”

  Annie fussed with the folds of her long black velvet skirt. “Yes, Vincent Gilfilen. He’s a difficult man, you know. Obstinate. A little odd.”

  “I do know that.”

  “He does things his own way. He’ll always do the right thing.” Annie avoided Kellen’s gaze. “You go along with whatever happens. It won’t be so bad.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Kellen felt as if she’d missed something. Like the point.

  Annie leaned forward and affectionately took Kellen’s face between her palms. She looked into her eyes, and in a dreamy voice, she said, “I told Sarah and June about you. They could barely believe you’d come back.”

  “Came back?” Kellen pulled out of Annie’s clasp. “Came back from where?”

  Annie blinked as if trying to clear a fog from her brain. “What?”

  “What did you tell Sarah and June about me?” Sarah and June were Annie’s sisters-in-law and best friends. But Kellen didn’t know she’d been the topic of discussion and she didn’t like the sound of They could barely believe you’d come back. “Is this to do with the man you didn’t tell about me?”