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Chapter 2

Kyle chased after Portia as he watched the train bear down on the pair in his peripheral vision. He’d seen it pass through the commercial district several times. A lot of times it slowed to a crawl, and then a complete stop as the tracks were switched to allow the container shipments to go to the other part of town that housed many national distribution centers. But this train didn’t slow down, the conductor showing no sign of seeing the women on the tracks as it kept going, way too fast for a local. Kyle figured he had thirty seconds, tops, to prevent Portia from catching up to Markova, or worse, before the train hit them both. Because if Portia caught Markova, the knife blade plunging into her body was the last thing she’d feel.

Kyle couldn’t believe that neither Portia nor Markova had noticed the train as he ran toward them. Portia continued her pursuit of the woman she thought was a mere thief, clearly ignorant of how lethal an encounter with her would be. ROC didn’t put up with interference of any kind and made it a trademark to never leave a witness alive. No matter how trivial the crime, it left no one living to tell their tales. It was what made them so powerful, enabling their insidious network of crime to reach into the most seemingly solid communities.

He ran in a perpendicular line to the tracks, knowing he risked Markova seeing him, wondering if he was law enforcement, but he didn’t care. He had to save Portia. The op would still be there—as far as Markova knew, he was either a Good Samaritan or a friend of Portia’s who’d witnessed their altercation. Or even an undercover cop. Let ROC come after him. He’d be damned if they would add an innocent Silver Valley librarian to their tally of victims.

By the time he was within a few feet of the tracks, the women faced one another, the knife in Markova’s hands poised to do maximum harm. He ran toward them and opened his mouth to shout a warning, anything to distract the knife-wielding criminal. But it was futile against the roar of the train engine, the wheels of the old cargo car squealing in protest as the engineer applied the brakes. Too late, though, to save either woman if they didn’t get off the tracks.

He’d practiced so many dangerous scenarios in both his Marine Corps and Trail Hiker training, and experienced countless more in his work as a Marine Scout and then as an undercover operative for the past seven years. There were no surprises as he measured the situation, decided on his course of action and followed through just in the nick of time. Markova jumped the tracks a second ahead of him. As he hit Portia sideways, tackling her off the tracks and holding her as they rolled down the embankment, the roar of the train drowning out all other noise, he had only one surprise.

He hadn’t screamed “look out” or “stop” or even “train.” The word, the name that had scraped past his throat, dry from the cold air, had been the name of someone he’d never met, not in the conventional way.

Portia.

Portia was aware of a very heavy weight on top of her, her face smooshed against a thick winter coat of some type, the scents of tar, train exhaust, and something else mingling and filling each breath she gasped for. The click of the train-car wheels across the track oddly comforted her, a definite sign that she hadn’t been flattened by the engine but in fact had been knocked off the tracks.

“You with me?” A low, rumbling voice filled her ears as much as she felt it through her very center. Her shuddering, shock-affected center.

“Y-y-yes.” The chatter couldn’t be helped, no matter how hard she clenched her jaw. But it wasn’t hypothermic shivers that ran through her; it was so much more.

The weight shifted and she realized someone lay atop her, a very large, lean person, on the ground next to the railroad embankment. An involuntary moan left her lips. Did the man hear it? Did he think she never wanted him to leave her?

“I thought you were a goner back there.” He gently rolled them both to their sides, still holding her protectively. Bright eyes filled her vision, a gloved hand cupped her chin.

“Who?” She couldn’t manage more than the one syllable; the question who are you? really didn’t matter, as she was still here, alive, intact. And yet it mattered a whole hell of a lot. Who was this savior?

“Here.” Strong arms on either side of her, the weight gone, the sense of being lifted higher, higher, but in reality the man had only shifted her into a seated position on the ground, sitting next to her, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. “Give yourself a few breaths before you try to stand up. Assess if you’re hurting anywhere.”

She listened to his voice, acknowledged she could listen to it all day, any day, and never grow bored of it.

“Are you in any pain?” He reiterated his concern as the last few cars passed, revealing a row of Silver Valley PD police cars on the other side of the tracks, back in the parking lot that stretched behind the library, diner and several other Silver Valley businesses.

“No. I’m...I’m okay.” She wiggled her toes, her fingers, and mentally moved up her anatomy. Her butt and shoulders were sore on the left side—the large man had somehow cushioned the rest of her from the impact upon stony ground, but since he’d saved her life, she was inclined to agree with him.

“Who are you?” At least her voice sounded stronger. She’d never met him, she was certain, but there was something familiar about him, as if they did know one another. Suspicion stole into her sense of security. Did he know the laptop thief—was he part of some kind of criminal network?

Gray eyes narrowed, thin lines fanning out from their corners. “I’m someone you can trust.”

She wiped a shaky hand over her mouth. “That’s something after almost being—” She cut off abruptly. Shudders started to wrack her body and tears spilled onto her cheeks. She’d been that close to dying. To losing it all, forever.

In one moment the importance of her worries and hopes to raise money for the library, to expand its services, her homeless shelter efforts—they all evaporated into what she’d almost become. Oblivion. She looked around her and vowed to never take another day for granted, no matter how cold or how aggravated she was by a laptop thief. It could all be gone as quick as she could say “choo choo.”

“Come on.” He lifted her to her feet and hugged her to his side. Only when he motioned with his free arm did she notice the pair of police officers who’d walked up to them, followed by EMTs.

“This woman is on the verge of shock.” Her rescuer’s voice held a note of steel she hadn’t noticed as he’d made sure she’d survived their tumble. She turned to thank him but he was gone. Her brain felt like she was thinking in a fog and Portia didn’t argue as the EMTs each took an arm and carefully walked her back to the parking area. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut when they had to briefly traverse the tracks again, but at least it wasn’t more than a few paces.

As she received first aid for a couple of cuts and bruises and then was taken to the ER against her desires, as a safeguard, her equilibrium returned. Portia had a lot to do when she got back to the library, but what she wanted to know more than anything was who the man was who’d saved her. And why she could still feel the imprint of his hands, his arms around her as they fell through the air and hit the hard ground, hours later. The matter of the person who’d led her so close to death didn’t elude her. Portia wanted to know who she was and wanted the woman to face full criminal charges for all she’d done. But the overarching curiosity that kept her from drowning in the shock and despair of almost dying wasn’t over the laptop thief. It was all about her rescuer, the man whose arms made her feel like no one could ever hurt her again.

And his eyes—the color of the Susquehanna in January. But unlike the cold slate of the river that ran through central Pennsylvania, where Silver Valley was nestled, the man’s eyes had a warmth in them. And a sadness.

It must have been the shock, as he described it, that made a myriad of emotions assault her as she mentally replayed what had just happened. Because what else explained the instant, white-hot zap of attraction she’d felt for the man, her train-wreck savior?

And who was he?

Ludmila Markova wasn’t happy. She’d have to circle back, in disguise this time, and drop the laptop off through the front door of the library, to leave it on the circulation desk. The book slot was too small for the computer, no doubt for added security. She’d have to act like a dopey kid who’d accidentally taken the laptop from the library property by accident.

Then she’d kill the librarian. Portia DiNapoli. She’d kept one eye on the bitch each time she’d entered the library, mostly just as herself, since this ignorant American town seemed to have a lot of library patrons. It made it easy for her to blend in.

She swore as she made herself down an entire quart of kefir. The protein was necessary to keep up her strength, and she missed the tang of her mother’s homemade drink.

The thought of her mother, gunned down next to her brothers and sisters and Papa, brought tears to her eyes. She viciously swiped at them. No more. After this mission, she’d be free and have the funds to go wherever she wanted. Not back to Russia—never.

Using the tactics ingrained into her by the former KGB official who trained her, she shoved her worthless emotions aside and focused on what the rest of the day would look like. First a stop to the library. Then find the librarian and eliminate the worry of her testimony, no matter how unlikely.

“What do you mean you were almost hit by a train? I thought you were working the ROC distribution network case?”

Silver Valley PD detective Josh Avery looked at Kyle as if his colleague was a new recruit. Kyle’s liaison with SVPD was a necessary part of working an op targeting criminal activity in Silver Valley. ROC was a menace to Silver Valley and instead of eradicating the crime ring’s reach with the takedown of a human trafficking ring, they’d found themselves looking down the barrel of ROC setting up Silver Valley to be its epicenter of heroin distribution in central Pennsylvania, Maryland and parts of New Jersey. Several of the SVPD detectives and officers were cut into Trail Hiker ops on a need-to-know basis, and often a Trail Hiker agent was paired with a single point of contact at SVPD to minimize leaks and maximize both law enforcement agencies’ ability to solve cases. Kyle came into SVPD to debrief Josh, after he was sure Portia was okay and being taken care of by the EMTs. Again, his focus was too heavy on the Portia side for his agent liking.

“I was. I am.” Kyle weighed what to say next, even though Josh was his SVPD liaison for this particular Trail Hiker case. But they were working as a team. “I was conducting surveillance, the same kind you do every day, on the library’s back entrance. Another agent had the front door covered. When trouble showed up in the way of an intruder—Markova—trying to pry open the locked exit-only door, I paid attention. I never expected the librarian to take off after the assailant, though.”

“It’s not like we can warn civilians about top-secret ROC details, not if we want to keep our covert ops secret.” Josh’s face revealed his concern.

“That’s the double-edged sword of this work, isn’t it? Providing safety for all by tracking the bad guys we can’t talk about.” Kyle leaned back in the chair across from Josh’s desk, in the detective’s office. “Who knew a librarian could run that fast?”

“I haven’t seen the official report come across yet. Are you sure it was the head librarian, Portia? Or one of her assistants?”

“It was Portia. And we’re lucky Markova didn’t knife her on the spot at the library.” No sense pretending he didn’t know who Portia was. “You know Portia?”

“She’s my fiancée’s best friend.” Josh grinned. “Don’t get sucked into any librarian stereotypes. Portia doesn’t take crap from anyone.”

Two strikes against his attempts at staying unseen today. He avoided public venues with any law enforcement agencies, or LEAs, as much as possible while doing his initial surveillance of Markova and ROC. But both Portia and Markova had seen him on the railroad tracks. Portia might believe he was a simple Good Samaritan, as could Markova. But a former FSB agent operated on the belief that there were no coincidences. Chances were that Markova suspected she’d been marked. His days in his undercover guise as a homeless man were numbered now, because Markova was as good as an enemy agent got. She’d put him with his disguise with little trouble. “Hell. Can’t one go anywhere in this town without running into another connection.”

“It’s not that bad. We’re bigger than you think, not just because we’re over twenty thousand last count. And you could run into the same people in a city of millions, especially in our profession. It happens.”

“But it’s not supposed to. Not if I’m doing my job right.” Kyle’s mission was to stay under the radar of a casual observer. He knew that Portia probably hadn’t noticed him in the library. He wore various disguises whenever he went there, to keep himself free to be himself during off-hours. He should have worn a disguise this morning, too, but with daylight surveillance, he wasn’t as worried—it was easier to pass off someone as inconsequential, normal, during busier working hours.

Josh nodded. He got it—he was an SVPD detective, yes, but also a Trail Hiker Agent as needed, per case. Right now they were using all agencies and means available to eradicate the crime through which ROC had infiltrated Silver Valley.

Kyle happened to have drawn the case of the stolen freight shipments, which amounted to millions of dollars of lost high-end technology goods in the past six months. Televisions, luxury audio systems and scores of top-of-the-line computer systems had been stolen. It’d blossomed into more when he discovered that heroin shipments were part of the ROC clandestine network, too. “I’ve narrowed down the place where they exchange possible hits and heroin drops to the library. I just haven’t spotted them doing it yet.”

“You still think it’s with the library’s computer internal system?”

“I did. But now, I’m not so sure. I’ve sat surveillance on Markova and the library for almost three weeks with no new leads.” The lack of movement on the case had given him too much time to think about Portia.

He wondered if she’d needed stitches, if she was released from the ER yet.

Not your problem.

Josh shook his head. “This is the hardest part. Waiting out the losers to make a wrong move so that we can put all of us out of our misery.”

“Yeah.” Kyle didn’t know Josh that well but knew that he’d recently been involved in a big sting against ROC. “How long did you wait before you saved all those Ukrainian women?” He referred to the human trafficking ROC had conducted in Silver Valley last year. Josh had also been instrumental in helping the wife of a notorious ROC operative get out of a domestic violence situation. He’d told Kyle about it in one of their many liaisons like today’s.

“It felt like forever but it came together quickly, once things started falling in place. You know the drill—hurry up and wait. And then be ready to go full throttle.”

“Hmph.” Kyle tried to review the work he’d done the past weeks, most of it surveillance, but he couldn’t stop the image of Portia’s big brown eyes watching him earlier. If he weren’t committed to remaining single, putting his career first, always, she’d be...no. He couldn’t go there. If he did decide to date someone, as he’d been considering, it couldn’t be Portia. Portia was too dangerous, because he barely knew her and couldn’t shake her.

“You’re still thinking about Portia, aren’t you?” Josh’s grin rankled Kyle but not as much as his uncanny ability to read him. Few could.

“Why do you ask?”

“I think it’s the same expression I had on my face, oh, about six months ago. When I realized Annie was more than a childhood friend.”

“Doubtful. I don’t know anything about Portia DiNapoli except that she’s the town librarian, and also volunteers a lot of time at the Silver Valley homeless shelter. I can only hope she doesn’t recognize me the next time I’m there. She’s making my job more difficult.”

Josh slapped him on the back. “You are so full of crap. You had to have done a quick background check on Portia as part of this case,” Josh called him out without hesitation.

Kyle felt his face redden. “Of course I did. But what I mean is that I don’t know her personally, at all.”

Josh laughed. “You’ll figure it out. It’s nothing a pro like you can’t handle, Kyle.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to pass as a homeless person a few times a week.” Contrary to his words, though, he’d learned more from his undercover work at the shelter than what the case demanded. He’d realized that Portia was a very compassionate, dedicated woman. The kind of woman a man didn’t play with romantically.

You’re undercover at the shelter for the case, not Portia.

“When are you going back in?” Josh referred to the Silver Valley homeless shelter.

“Tonight. I’ll look nothing like this, of course.” He motioned to his jeans and flannel shirt. “The other night, I found out that there are three new dealers in town. I need their names. Then I can track down their supplier more quickly with triangulation.” And hopefully directly link it to ROC, but he wasn’t holding his breath. ROC was notorious for its ability to evade law enforcement. But ROC wasn’t used to the state-of-the-art technology and techniques employed by the Trail Hikers. ROC thought they were up against SVPD and the FBI, tough enough adversaries. “I’ve also got to get into the library to do a thorough search for evidence.”

“I’ve seen your getup. You’re right—you don’t look anything like the homeless person you use for your cover.” Josh paused. “You’ll need a search warrant for the library, though.”

“Unless we can convince the local librarian to let me in for a look-see.” Kyle drummed his fingers on the table, alongside his coffee mug.

“Kyle, you can tell me to mind my own business, but what did you do before TH?” He’d lowered his voice, as the secrecy of the agency meant that the majority of SVPD officers and employees had no idea of its existence. They all thought Kyle was a visiting detective from out of state.

“I was a Marine.” He wasn’t going to spell it out—Josh wasn’t stupid.

Josh’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it. The US Marine Corps—it explains how cool you are, no matter what.”

“And my lack of patience while conducting civilian stakeouts.”

“Forget about that. What do you think they’re passing in the library?”

“I don’t know but from all indications, ROC sends thugs from New York into the library to drop intel for a local operative. Then they split. The local person in charge comes in, gets the information, then passes the information to their local network. It’s what TH has put together after collecting information from all available agencies and sources.”

“You think there’s a tip-off going down soon, for certain?”

“I do. It makes sense, as it’s been ten days since the last rash of trailer thefts.” Two truckloads of computer equipment and one of wide-screen, high-technology televisions.

“I’m glad they’re not doing anything more than knocking out the truck drivers,” Josh said, expressing what worried Kyle. It was only a matter of time before ROC left behind their use of chloroform and used weapons that would leave more permanent wounds. Or worse. Escalation was part of ROC’s methods. The minute one trucker didn’t go down easily with a chloroform-soaked rag, they’d up the ante to let the other truckers in the region know they’d better give up their goods without a fight. His mind flashed back to the image of Portia facing down Markova, and the former FSB agent’s knife. He hadn’t ever felt that frightened for someone he didn’t know. Hell, when was he going to admit to himself that Portia had gotten under his skin?

“You and I both know that they’re used to making smaller PD’s roll over and get out of their way. They’re not afraid to hit at officers as needed. They don’t like the press attention, but when it comes down to it, they don’t really care. To them, money and power is what matters.”

“Not on my watch,” Josh said, expressing how Kyle felt.

“I have to admit, Josh, I never know what I’m going to find when I walk into a new PD. Silver Valley PD is solid,” Kyle said without thinking and realized he was speaking from his heart. He took a long, hot gulp of coffee. For over a decade, he’d either been a Marine or Trail Hiker, protected the highest officials of government, conducted clandestine ops and never thought much about his dang heart. But since this morning, and coming head-to-head with Portia, he’d—

“Officer Avery? Portia DiNapoli is here to give a statement and she wants to talk to you.” The receptionist stood at Josh’s desk. “Should I bring her back here or tell her to wait?”

Josh looked at Kyle. “You okay with her seeing you here?”

Kyle wanted to see Portia, know she was okay. It was an unreasonable level of concern for someone he wasn’t personally acquainted with. Best stop it before it began.

You’re already done for.

“Naw, I’ll take off before you talk to her.”

“Can you have her wait a few, and I’ll come get her?” Josh said to the receptionist.

“Sure thing.”

After she was out of earshot, Josh looked at Kyle. “I know you’re undercover for TH, but Portia doesn’t have to know that. She could think you’re a contractor or other LEA, working with SVPD on the ROC case, in general. It’s no secret that we’ve got ROC problems in Silver Valley.”

“I know. It’s the details that are classified, not the big picture.” Kyle’s gut clenched. It’d be too easy to let Portia know what he did, that he was someone she could trust, as he’d told her. “But unless she absolutely has to know—”

“I hear you. And I’d do the same.” Josh confirmed the conservative approach all undercover agents employed. It was always better to stick to the tightest parameters of operational security possible. Then you could loosen up as needed. But once the cat was out of the bag, i.e., a civilian such as Portia DiNapoli found out you were doing something classified or law enforcement related, you couldn’t put it back.

Kyle stood. “I’ll check in after my stint at the shelter tonight. Tomorrow morning work for you, unless something important happens?”

“Sure thing. By the way, Kyle? You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

Josh didn’t say anything for a moment while he grinned at him. Kyle braced himself for what he knew was coming, and it wasn’t unwarranted.

“One word, Kyle. One woman. P-o-r-t-i-a.”

Fuuuuuudge.

It took most of the morning for Portia to be cleared by the medical staff at Silver Valley Hospital, so she wasn’t sure if Josh would be in when she showed up to file a report at SVPD at lunchtime. Annie was engaged to Josh and Portia knew that they enjoyed lunches together during the workweek. She suspected the “lunches” were sexy liaisons, but never pressed her friend on it. Not too much, anyway.

Holding her driver’s license up to the security camera, she pushed the button outside the station entrance. She’d had tours of the police department with the library’s murder mystery book club and remembered the protocol for civilians.

“Come on in, Ms. DiNapoli.” The receptionist’s quick acknowledgment didn’t surprise her. Portia had been instructed to go straight to the station after she left the hospital, to file her report.

“Hi. Thanks for letting me in so quickly—it’s still pretty cold out there.” She began to unbutton her coat in the warm entryway. The receptionist nodded.

“You’re here to see Detective Avery?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where his office is?” Portia noticed that the entryway had a lot of people coming and going.

“I do.”

“Great. Just pass your bag through the scanner and step through the metal detector.”

Portia turned to the security guard who led her through the procedure, clearing her to enter the main building.

Portia walked back to Josh’s desk once the receptionist cleared her. She didn’t have a lot of business at SVPD, except to ask Josh, a high school classmate, if he’d read to the elementary school students when she’d been working at Silver Valley Elementary. And even then, she called or emailed him, didn’t pay the police department a visit. The bustle and sense of many different officers and detectives in constant motion hit her. It matched what she’d read: Silver Valley was in the midst of a crime wave unlike any ever seen before.

A tall man at the end of one of the long corridors made her stomach flip in ridiculous anticipation. Walking away from her, toward the back exit, he could have been anyone. But her body sensed it was the man from the tracks. He was tall, with an angular build that only hinted at his sheer strength—the kind of power that enabled him to knock her out from an oncoming train. Short, military-style hair, a sandy blond. Her gaze travelled down his length. He carried a parka in one arm, the same color as the man who’d saved her wore. Without the extra goose down padding his frame seemed all the more impressive. His butt was all muscle in worn jeans, and his stride in his boots bespoke of stealth. It might not be him, but then he threw her a quick look over his shoulder. His eyes—silver like a wolf she’d seen once, visiting a wildlife preserve. He gave her a curt nod. As if he knew she’d been there all along. Her stomach leaped and she increased her pace, but he disappeared around the corner before she reached him. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to her. She paused right before she got to Josh’s office. She’d been through a lot today, and she might be seeing things, seeing someone wherever she looked. What were the odds it was the same man who’d saved her from the tracks? The man who’d held her, made her feel safer than she had in a long, long time?

“Hey, Portia. Come on in.” Josh Avery’s smile was as genuine as his quick, warm hug. He kept a hand on her upper arm after he pulled back and peered into her eyes. “You okay? Really?”

Realization struck her yet again that the morning’s events hadn’t been a dream, or an almost-nightmare. She’d indeed missed being flattened by a locomotive, with no more than a second or two to spare.