Critical Doubt - Signed

CHAPTER ONE

Only the good die young… 

The phrase went around in Ryker’s head as he walked into the church auditorium Monday afternoon for the celebration of life honoring Lieutenant Paul Hawkins, dead at the age of thirty-two. He'd stood in the back of the church during the funeral, hidden in the shadows, exactly the way he liked it, but now he had to face the widow of one of his best friends. He had to acknowledge that Paul was gone—another one of his brothers had fallen. 

Paul hadn't died in combat like Leo and Carlos; he'd passed away after a freak fall from the roof of a house, where he'd downed too many shots of tequila in an attempt to escape the demons that had been chasing him and every one of their seven-member Army ranger unit, including himself…

The past nine months had been hell, ever since a mission had led his team into a deadly ambush. Two had died, three had been injured, and while two had escaped without physical wounds, they hadn’t escaped psychological injury. In less than an hour, his team had been shattered. They would never do another mission again. Not one of them was still in the army. They had either left by choice or been forced out through death and medical restrictions.

For him, it had not been a choice to leave the service, but his physical injuries had been too severe to continue to serve as a Ranger and he'd wanted to do nothing else, so his military career that had started at West Point and lasted another twelve years was over. 

But the deaths weren't over. 

The repercussions from that deadly ambush were still rolling, and today they were being felt by Abby Hawkins, a thirty-year-old woman and her seven-year-old son, Tyler. They stood by a table draped in the American flag, a gold urn in the center containing the ashes of a man who had not only been a soldier but also a husband and a father.  

Abby had long, reddish-brown hair that hung like curtains on either side of her face. Every now and then, she seemed to duck behind those curtains to take a second for herself. But then she had to come back out, fake a smile, listen to whatever words of condolence were coming her way. Tyler was at her side, a freckle-faced, ginger-haired kid, who looked as unhappy as anyone Ryker had ever seen. Abby's parents were nearby, also appearing strained and emotional. 

There wasn't anyone present from Paul's family. His mom had died when he was three, and his father, who had also been a military man, had passed away seven years ago. Since then, Abby's family had become Paul’s family, and he'd said many times how grateful he was for them. 

There were two men in uniform speaking to Abby now. The older man with the silver-gray hair, friendly face, and easygoing manner was Colonel Bill Vance, who Ryker and his team had served under in Afghanistan. Vance had been a mentor to Paul—to all of them. Next to Vance was Sergeant James Lofgren, a medic who had been attached to their unit, and had been one of the first to treat their injuries that fateful night. 

Ryker struggled to breathe. Seeing Vance and Lofgren was taking him back to a place he didn't want to go. He forced himself to look away. But as his gaze moved across the room, it caught on a memorial photo display and another man he hadn't seen in a long time—Todd Davis. Todd had been part of their seven-member team and had been Paul's best friend. Todd wasn't in uniform today. He'd left the army months ago, and today he wore an ill-fitting dark suit that hung loosely on his lean frame. His dirty-blond hair looked like it could have used a comb, and he didn't appear to have shaved in a couple of days. He looked terrible and confused, shaking his head every other second in bewilderment, as he drank a beer and stared at a large photo of their ranger team.  

Ryker's gut churned. He didn't want to look at that picture. He didn't want to be reminded of all who were lost. In fact, he didn't really want to talk to Todd, but he had to. He needed to find out what had happened to Paul, why he had been drinking so much, why he had gone on the roof, why he had fallen to his death when he’d been as surefooted as anyone Ryker had ever known. 

His gaze swept the room once more as he wondered where the other members of his unit were. Hank and Mason should be here, too, but he hadn’t seen them in the church. Why weren’t they in attendance? If he could drag himself back into the world, so could they.  

Frowning, he looked back at Abby. She squatted down to talk to a little girl. He could see her trying to smile, but the pain was evident on her face. He wished he could do something to change what she was going through, but he had nothing to offer but the same empty words of solace she was getting from everyone else.

Abby would want more from him. He'd been the leader of the team, and he'd let everyone down, not just the day of the ambush but ever since then. He hadn't spoken to Paul in probably eight months. Instead, he'd isolated himself on the Chesapeake Bay, living as far away from people and noise as he possibly could, because every tiny sound threatened to trigger the bells in his head that were relentless in their torturous sound. 

The doctor said it was PTSD. There didn't seem to be a physical reason for the bells to ring, but they did, and he never knew when the debilitating sounds would overwhelm his brain and make him feel like he was losing his mind. 

Even now, he felt the sounds beginning to build. Hushed conversations seemed incredibly loud. Heels hitting the hard floor made him cringe. Anxiety rose within him, bringing anger and despair with it. 

He’d once been proud of his fearlessness, but now fear seemed to come from every shadow, every corner, and he couldn’t seem to stop the physical reactions. When someone jostled him from behind, and he spun around, his defensive reflexes jumped into overdrive. He raised his hands, prepared to strike. He could have snapped the woman’s neck in one second. Thankfully, he did not.

She gave him a startled look as she stepped back. Concern flashed in her eyes as she probably read the murderous intent in his gaze. But that worry was then followed by shock.  

The same surprise ran through his head. He dropped his hands, his confused brain trying to make sense of the beautiful woman in front of him. 

Was it her? Could it be her? It seemed unimaginable. 

He'd last seen her in a hotel room on a hot summer night in Doha five years ago. He'd been on leave, celebrating a successful mission and taking some well-deserved days of rest. She'd been on a layover, stopping in Doha after a USO show in Kuwait. He'd taken one look at her stunning face and body and knew he had to have her. 

When she'd let him buy her a drink, he'd felt like his ride on top of the world was going for another spin, especially when she'd suggested no names, no promises and no regrets. He couldn't believe his luck. He'd met the perfect woman. 

One drink had turned into two, then three. They'd danced til midnight, each step fanning the sparks between them, and then made their way upstairs to his hotel room. It had been a night he'd never forgotten. And surprisingly he'd had more than a few regrets when he'd woken up to find her gone. He'd wished then he'd gotten her name. In fact, he'd tried to find her after that, but no one seemed to know who she was. He'd started thinking of her as a beautiful dream. 

But she was real, and she was here in Dobbs, Georgia, at the funeral of one of his fallen teammates. What the hell? 

Her gaze clung to his, and he saw the same unraveling of memories in her striking light-green eyes. Her blonde hair had been shorter five year ago, barely reaching her shoulders. Now it fell halfway down her back in long, thick waves. She wasn't wearing a skimpy minidress today, but in her somber black dress, he could still see the curves of her body, the same curves that his hands and body remembered so very well. 

"You," she murmured. 

"You remember." 

She licked her lips. "Yes, but it's been a long time." 

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for my friend—for Abby." She tipped her head toward Paul's widow.

"You're friends with Paul's wife?" he asked, surprised again.

"Since we were kids. I spent most of my childhood in Dobbs." 

"I had no idea." 

She drew in a breath. "I know who you are. Abby showed me a photo of Paul's team two years ago, and you were in it. I had no idea you knew Paul when we…" 

"Slept together?" he finished when her voice drifted away.

"Well, I don't recall us doing much sleeping, but yes. You're Ryker Stone." 

"And you're way ahead of me. What's your name?"

"Savannah."

"Savannah," he echoed. "I guess that fits you, being a Georgia girl and all. But I thought you were from Texas, like the other dancers."

Her gaze shifted, and a flush spread across her cheeks. "I wasn't one of the dancers."

"You weren't? I don't understand. You lied to me?" More surprise ran through him. The perfect woman on the perfect night was starting to look not so perfect. 

"I didn't lie. You assumed I was with the other entertainers. I just didn’t tell you I wasn't."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"I think it does. Why lie? What were you doing in Doha that night if you weren't with the show?" 

"I don't want to get into all that now. Excuse me."

Before he could protest, she was gone—again. His lips tightened at her abrupt departure as more questions ran through his mind. Why had she let him assume she was someone she wasn't? Now he was more than a little curious to know exactly who she was. 

But as Savannah moved across the room, he thought it might be just as well that she was gone. He wasn't the man she'd slept with. Maybe he didn't need her to see who he was now.

He did wonder if Savannah had told Abby she'd slept with him. She'd said she'd become aware of his identity two years earlier. If Savannah had told Abby about their night, wouldn't Abby have told Paul? Wouldn't Paul have come after him, demanding to know what had happened, why he'd messed around with his wife's friend? But Paul had never said a word. And as far as he knew, the only person on his team who even knew about the beautiful blonde in Doha had been Carlos, who'd been on leave with him. 

Just thinking about his favorite wingman brought another wave of sadness. Carlos had died in the ambush, along with Leo Romano. He still hadn't come to terms with their deaths. Now he had to find a way to make peace with Paul's passing, and that didn't seem possible. 

But he had to start somewhere and that meant talking to Abby. He hadn't spoken to her in probably three years, not since the team had been moved from Fort Benning, which was an hour away, to Fort Lewis in Washington State. Abby hadn't wanted to make the move, because Tyler had been sick, and she needed to be close to her family, close to Tyler's doctors. Paul hadn't wanted her to stay behind, but he knew that he'd be gone more than he was home anyway, and it was better for Tyler and Abby to stay in Georgia. 

It was probably better now, too, because Abby and Tyler had a support system that they would need even more now that Paul was gone. 

Drawing in a breath, Ryker knew he couldn’t keep stalling. But as he took a step in Abby's direction, he saw Savannah grab Abby's hand and pull her toward the side door of the auditorium.

Savannah told everyone in the near vicinity that Abby needed a minute. And then they slipped outside. 

He let out a breath of relief. He needed a minute, too. Maybe more than one. 

* * *

"I can't do this," Abby whispered to Savannah, as they stepped onto the quiet patio. "It's too much."

"Just breathe," Savannah told her, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths as well. She was happy that they had the patio to themselves.

She'd been expecting the funeral to be difficult but running into Ryker had only made things worse. She'd thought he might show up, but she hadn’t let that stop her from coming. Abby needed her, and she owed Abby more than she could ever repay. 

"I should go back inside," Abby said, with a guilty gleam in her eyes. "My mother will be very upset with me for walking out like that."

"She'll get over it. No one is going anywhere. You're entitled to take a little time for yourself." 

"It does feel better out here."

"You're not too cold?" It was February, with the temp in the low sixties, and at half-past four, the sun was already starting to slip past the trees.  

"I don't mind the crisp air. It makes it easier to breathe. I feel like a coward, Savannah, hiding out here. I need to be stronger." 

"You're doing great. The service was lovely. The reception is very nice. There's food and alcohol, and everyone knows each other. It's all going just as it should." 

"It's good to have you here, Savannah. I wasn't sure you'd make it. I know you're busy with work."  

"Work will be there when I get back to it. You're like my sister; you know that."

"And you're mine. But speaking of family…"

She saw the troubled look in Abby's eyes. "You don't have to say it. I know my father is probably coming." 

"He said he was. I didn't see him in the church, but he sent me a note of condolence and said he'd be attending the funeral. He was friends with Paul's father, and I guess he feels an obligation to pay his respects."

"He's big on obligation when it comes to his fellow soldiers. And besides being friends with Paul's father, he liked Paul a lot. He always said Paul was one of his best students at sniper school."

"Paul had a lot of respect for him, too, even though I told him what a shithead your dad had been to you."

"I appreciate that, but I never wanted you or Paul to take sides."

"I know. I always thought it was a little crazy that Paul could be such a good sniper, which required him to be still, patient, unemotional, detached…he was never that guy at home. He was always moving a mile a minute. He was warm and funny, and he got emotional when he saw a stray dog in the neighborhood."

She smiled at that memory. "I remember when you had four dogs, because Paul couldn't stop rescuing them."

"And then Tyler's allergies kicked in, and we had to find them all good homes." Abby sighed. "Paul was a good guy."

"Of course he was." She wondered why there seemed to be doubt in Abby's eyes. "Am I missing something?" 

"It's just that Paul's emotions went haywire after he was injured, after he realized he couldn't go back to his team, because he had nerve damage in his hand and arm. He didn't know what to do with himself."

"It's difficult for a lot of soldiers to start over, especially when the choice isn't theirs."

"I tried to be understanding; I really did. But it wasn't enough." Abby teared up. "Damn, you'd think I'd be done crying by now."

Savannah dug into her bag and pulled out a pack of tissues. "I came prepared."

Abby wiped her eyes. "Thanks."

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"Turn back time."

"I wish I could. I still don't understand how it happened." She regretted her words as soon as she said them, because more anguish entered Abby's eyes. 

"I'm pretty sure it's my fault."

"Your fault? That's impossible." 

"My mom blames me. I've seen it in other people's eyes, too."

She was shocked at Abby's words. "Why would your mother hold you responsible for Paul drinking too much and falling off a roof he shouldn't have been on in the first place?"

"I kicked Paul out three weeks ago, Savannah. He wasn't just visiting Todd that night; he was living there."

"I had no idea. I know you said you'd been having some problems since Paul came home, but I didn't realize they were that bad. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was hoping Paul and I could fix things, but he's been different since he left the army. I almost wish he'd been able to stay in, which is crazy, considering how many times I prayed for him to get out. But he wasn't the same man. He was moody and angry, jealous and paranoid."

"It sounds like he needed help."

"Which he wouldn't get. I asked him to go to counseling with me, and he refused. I said I'd be fine if he went on his own, if he was worried about me being there, but he wasn't happy with that idea, either. He was drinking from morning 'til night. He was barely coherent in the evenings. He literally passed out at the dinner table one night. He fell head-first into the mac and cheese. He scared Tyler. My little boy ran out of the room crying. I had to drag Paul into the bedroom that night. He was so out of it. And the next day he didn't remember a thing. But I remembered."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, feeling an overwhelming wave of sympathy. 

"That's when I told him he had to leave. He had to get sober and get help. I thought I was protecting Tyler, but maybe I was too harsh. Paul served his country. He was a hero. He saved lives, and I kicked him out."

"You were protecting your son."

"Or was I just protecting myself?"

"No, you were doing what you had to do for both of you. What happened after he left?"

"He seemed to get a little better. He said he would see a doctor and that he was cutting back on the alcohol. I let him visit with Tyler a few times, and it went well. I thought that staying with Todd was good, too. Because Todd was in Paul's unit. He was part of the ambush. Paul could be himself with Todd. And Todd needed the connection, too; that's why he moved here from Jacksonville two months ago. They grounded each other. They were better together." 

She'd met Todd once at a birthday party, and had thought he was a good guy, a little too hyper for her, but fun to be around. "What did Todd think about Paul's behavior?"

"He was worried, too, but he kept saying Paul would work his way out of it, that he loved me and Tyler, and he'd find his way back. I wanted to believe him. But now he'll never come home." 

"Oh, Abby, this is so messed up. But you are not to blame for Paul's drinking or his fall."

"I'm glad you don't think so, but I know other people do."

"That's their problem, not yours. You and Paul were the only ones in your marriage. It was between you two." 

Abby stared back at her, with her heart in her eyes. "I just worry that maybe it wasn't exactly an accident. I know that's also being gossiped about. Like maybe he didn't fall—maybe he jumped." 

"Is there any evidence of that? Was Todd there when Paul fell?"

"No. He was asleep. He woke up when he heard Paul land on the trash cans. He ran outside and found him. Todd said…" Abby drew in a shaky breath. "He said his neck was broken and he was dead. There was no coming back."

"Oh, God," she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

"I wasn't home that night. I was in Atlanta with Tyler and some friends. By the time Todd got a hold of me and I got back here, Paul's body was already in the morgue."

She was horrified at the details. "I'm so sorry, Abby."

"Everyone says I should be glad he didn't suffer, that he probably never knew what happened, but I know. I can't forget it."

"Of course you can't."

"Paul's blood alcohol was twice the legal limit. He was very drunk, Savannah. It would have been easy for him to fall."

She nodded, wishing she knew what to say. 

"I better go inside, Savannah."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"I have to be. Oh, one other thing," Abby continued. "Your cousin Josie may also show up. I know you don't talk to her, but she came back to Dobbs a few months ago, and she's in all my social female groups. We've become friends. I think she's changed since she was such a jealous bitch to you. But I hope you don't think I'm betraying you." 

She was touched that Abby even had the bandwidth to worry about that. "You're not betraying me. And you don't have to avoid her. If you're friends now, great. It doesn't matter to me."

"Good, then I won't feel guilty about that."

"You shouldn't be feeling guilty about anything."

"These days, guilt seems to be my middle name."

"Well, we're going to change that." 

"Are you coming in?" 

"I'll be inside in a minute. I just need to make a quick call." After Abby left, she let out a breath, not bothering to get her phone from her bag. She didn't have a call to make; she just needed to get her head together. The details of Paul's death, the last few weeks of his life, the problems in the marriage were all much worse than she'd realized. Now she was the one feeling guilty for not having kept up with Abby's life. But she would do better now. She would do everything she could to get Abby through this.

She just wanted the memorial to be over, so she wouldn't have anyone else to worry about but Abby. But at the moment, she was still dreading the idea of running into her father or her cousin and having to deal with old family business. And then there was Ryker…

She hadn't yet let herself think about him, but as she stood in the cooling, late afternoon air, she felt a rush of warmth as his image filled her head. She wasn't seeing the man who had looked like he wanted to kill her a few minutes ago, but rather the guy in the hotel bar with the compelling brown eyes, scruffy beard, and sexy mouth. He'd given her a confident, I'm-on-top-of-the-world smile and asked her to join him for a drink, and there was no way she could have said no. Because that night, that moment in her life, she'd felt completely adrift, lost between one world and the next, and she'd wanted a third option, an escape, a time-out from the pressures of trying to decide her life. Ryker had given her exactly what she needed in so many ways. 

It hadn't been easy to leave his bed before dawn. A big part of her had wanted to stay, to talk, to share names and stories, to have breakfast, maybe lunch, perhaps even another night. But they were ships passing in the night. He was going one way; she was going the other. So, she'd left and for some reason doing that, taking that action, actually made everything else fall into place. 

It might have just been a one-night stand for Ryker, but for her it had been a lot more. In some small way, she'd taken back some of her power, and she'd been able to make the hard choices that had been dogging her for a long time. 

She'd never thought she'd see him again. Actually, that wasn't completely true. When she'd realized he was friends with Paul, she'd thought there was a chance their paths might intersect once more, but she'd never imagined it would be like this, on a very, very sad day.

Ryker had looked awful, a shadow of himself. He'd lost weight. He was paler than he had been, but it was in his eyes that she'd really seen the change. There had been sadness, anger, grief, and, strangely enough, uncertainty. He'd probably been the cockiest man in the bar the night they'd met, and she'd found his confidence inspiring. But today it felt like he was the one who was adrift. 

She knew he'd been injured in the ambush and that he'd had to leave the army. He'd lost two friends—make that three now. He was definitely no longer on top of the world, and a part of her wished she could do something about that. But her focus had to be on Abby and Tyler. Ryker would have to deal with his issues on his own. 

In reality, they barely knew each other. He had his life and she had hers. They couldn't go back in time and recreate that magical night. It needed to just stay a happy memory. 

As she turned to go back inside, she froze, her happy memory materializing in front of her in a very real, very physical way. Ryker might be a shadow of his former self, but he still made her heart beat faster. 

"I was just on my way in," she said, even though he hadn't asked what she was doing. 

"Before you go, let's talk."

"Why?" 

"Why not?" he countered. 

"I'm here for Abby."

"But Abby isn't here, and you are. She can do without you for a couple of minutes."

"I don't want to talk about that night."

"Then let's talk about now. You said you weren't a dancer. What do you do, Savannah? Who are you?"

She stared back at him, not sure why she was hesitating. She was proud of herself. She was living her own life and no one else's. "I'm a special agent with the FBI." 

His jaw dropped and wonder entered his eyes. "Well, I was not expecting that. You're serious?"

"Do you want me to show you my badge?"

"Were you FBI the night we met?"

"No. I was a soldier. I was on leave from my job in Army intelligence in Kuwait."

More surprise ran through his eyes. "Why did you let me think you were one of the dancers?"

She thought about that. The answer was really very simple, and it was a pattern she'd lived too many times in her life. "You wanted me to be one of those women. I gave you what you wanted." 

He gave her a thoughtful look. "What about what you wanted?"

"I got what I wanted, Ryker. We had a good time. I didn’t have any regrets. Did you?"

"Only one. I wished I'd gotten your name. I would have liked to see you again."

"I suspect you only wanted to see me again, because I left before you did. You like to control the timeline."

"Possibly," he admitted. "Why did you run away?"

"I didn't run away. The night was over. That's all we'd promised each other." 

"It could have been more than that."

"But it wasn't." She paused. "You look like you've had a rough year, Ryker. Abby told me you were injured and that you couldn’t go back to active duty. I'm sorry."

A shadow fell over his eyes. "I'm fine now." 

She wondered about that. There was no visible sign of injury but there was something about the way he moved that felt a little stiff and not like the powerful, athletic man she'd met five years ago. "What do you do for work?"

"I run fishing charters on the Chesapeake Bay. That's where I live now."

"That sounds relaxing."

He shrugged. "I suppose. It's quiet. I need that."

"You—the life of the party—now likes quiet?"

Something passed through his gaze. "You have no idea how much I appreciate silence."

His words were odd. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. You should go find Abby."

Now that he wanted her to leave, she felt inclined to stay. "When you first saw me, you had a deadly look in your eyes, as if you thought I was going to attack you."

He gave her an awkward nod. "Sorry about that. I'm a little on edge."

"Are you okay, Ryker? I know this must be awful for you. Paul considered every man on his team his brother. I loved him, too, but I didn't spend as much time with him as you did."

He gazed back at her, a look of pain in his dark eyes. "It's worse than awful. But it is what it is." 

She glanced toward the church as the door opened, and Todd Davis stepped onto the patio. Todd's expression turned grim as he realized he wasn't alone. She could feel the tension in Ryker's body as he met Todd's gaze. She didn't know what was between them, but she had a feeling these two men had a lot to discuss, and she did not need to be in the middle of any more drama. "I'll let you and Todd talk."

"You don't have to leave."

"It's fine. I need to get back to Abby." As she moved past Todd, she gave him a brief smile. "I'm so sorry," she said. 

He gave her a tight nod, his eyes strained. "Me, too. I'm glad you're here for Abby, Savannah. She needs you."

"Then I better get inside."

When she walked into the auditorium, she realized the crowd had grown. While some people had missed the service, they had come for the reception. And one of those people was a tall, older man in an army dress uniform. He had a strong build, and an imposing presence. His light-brown hair was now peppered with gray, but he looked every bit as stern and intimidating as he always had.

She felt a turbulent mix of emotions: love, hate, and everything in between. For the last five years, she'd been able to keep her past and her present apart, but they were getting closer by the minute.

THE FBI SERIES takes readers on thrilling, romantic, and suspenseful adventures! While an overarching mystery plays out over the first five novels, every story stands completely on its own and there are no cliffhangers!

The books feature complex and exciting storylines ranging from kidnapping to organized crime, terrorism, and espionage. Personal stories often play out against a bigger, broader storyline, and surprising twists will keep you up all night. Start reading today!

Check out more books in the series!

• Perilous Trust
• Reckless Whisper
• Desperate Play
• Elusive Promise
• Dangerous Choice
• Ruthless Cross
• Critical Doubt
• Fearless Pursuit
• Daring Deception
• Risky Bargain
• Perfect Target
• Fatal Betrayal
• Deadly Trap