Veiled Intentions

“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

MILLS & BOON

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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.