Buch lesen: «Dangerous Alliance»

Chapter One

“Ms. Tyler, you can’t go in there!”

Libby brushed by Colonel Edwards’s secretary and made a beeline for the provost marshal’s office, her heart pounding.

“I need just a minute of his time,” she pleaded, sidestepping the older woman’s hand with a limberness and calculated ease born of years of equestrian training.

Colonel Edwards looked up with disapproval from behind his oak desk. Dark horn-rimmed glasses emphasized his thick eyebrows, peppered with the same graying hair that showed at his temples.

Libby forced a slight smile that she hoped looked apologetic as she came to a halt inches from his immaculately kept desk. In the corner behind him the American flag stood next to the red Marine Corps flag, and his walls were covered with photos, certificates and a set of crossed sabers.

“Colonel, I’m Libby Tyler, one of the riding instructors at the base stables.” She glanced apprehensively back at the grim-faced secretary following her through the open door. “Please…I know I don’t have an appointment, but this can’t wait, and I’m convinced it’s in your interest to hear what I have to say.”

Edwards put aside his gold pen, nodded to his secretary and then gave Libby a curious look. “Very well, Ms. Tyler. Ardella, it’s all right. Just close the door, please.”

The shaken secretary gave her a disgruntled glance, her face sour with disapproval at Libby’s boldness. Libby managed a placating smile.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” she offered sweetly to the departing secretary. Libby had learned much about military politics and protocol since she’d married marine captain Brad Tyler six years ago—and certainly it was not a good idea to ruffle the feathers of the secretary of the head honcho.

The secretary appeared mollified as she quietly closed the door. Libby returned her attention to Colonel Edwards, an important honcho indeed as provost marshal of Camp Reed, one of the largest Marine Corps bases in the United States. “Colonel, I’m dreadfully sorry for barging in here—”

“No, you aren’t, Ms. Tyler, or you wouldn’t have done it.” He looked at her, one black-and-gray eyebrow raised skeptically, and Libby felt suddenly awkward, dressed as she was in English riding breeches and a short-sleeved white blouse. “Now, I’m a very busy man as I’m sure you know. And my secretary had an impeccable record of stopping anyone who wanted to get in here without an appointment—until just now.” He sat back in his chair and appraised her. “You’re a military dependent, correct?”

Libby moved from one foot to another, smarting under Edwards’s straightforward, insightful remarks. Well, what did she expect? The provost marshal’s office handled legal problems and controlled the military police, one arm of their law-enforcement jurisdiction.

“Yes, sir, I am,” she agreed. Although it wasn’t quite the truth, it wasn’t a lie, either. When Brad was alive, she had been dependent. Now she was employed as a civilian on the sprawling base that took up a sizable chunk of valuable southern-California real estate.

“Hmm.”

That meant, “You knew better than to barge in here,” Libby realized. Not only that, but she had skipped the golden chain-of-command rule that the military lived and died by. “Colonel, if I didn’t think this was important—and if my boss, Stuart Garwood, had been willing to listen to me—I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Stuart Garwood is a fine man, Ms. Tyler.” He scowled at her. “And horse business is hardly provost marshal business.”

Inwardly, Libby flinched. “Yes, sir, Mr. Garwood is a wonderful boss. I’ve worked for him the past three years.” She shifted nervously from one booted foot to the other. “But there’s a problem. At least, I perceive a problem.”

“And it requires provost marshal attention?”

Libby saw the doubt on Edwards’s heavily lined face, reminiscent of a terrain map Brad had once showed her. “I believe it does.”

“And Mr. Garwood. What does he think?”

Libby tried very hard to stand still. She knew her energy and restlessness often translated as nervousness and made people, particularly stoic military types, look at her as if she were some kind of hyperactive child. Lacing her fingers together, she said in the most serious voice she could muster, “Colonel, someone is riding five stable-owned horses at night. And not just one joyride. I’ve noticed it four months in a row now. I’ve spoken to Mr. Garwood about it each time, but he just shrugs it off. These horses are owned by the Marine Corps and are being ridden very hard for a long time. Then they’re left in the paddock without being brushed down or cared for. That’s not right.”

Edwards’s eyebrows moved up like two fuzzy caterpillars, and he growled, “Ms. Tyler, I really don’t think your charges hold any water. This is a stable matter, one I think Mr. Garwood is consummately capable of handling. I’m sure if he thought it was a genuine problem, he’d have contacted our office.”

“But, Colonel—”

“This is not a law-enforcement matter, Ms. Tyler. Good day.”

Libby watched the officer pick up his pen. Frustration thrummed through her. “Colonel, I’m trying to be reasonable about this! Those five horses have nearly been ridden to death. For two days after each experience, they just stand or lie in the corrals, they’re so exhausted.” Her voice turned strident. “You must investigate!”

“Ms. Tyler, go back to Mr. Garwood. He’ll deal with this the way he sees fit.”

Backing away from the desk, Libby whispered, “Colonel, my boss doesn’t seem to care one whit about those horses or their condition. I’d hoped to handle this through military channels, but if I can’t get any satisfaction through your office, I’m going to the Oceanside Register to talk to a reporter!”

Edwards snapped a look across the desk at her. The silence grew heavy and strained as he drilled her with a scathing glare. Finally, with deliberation, he laid the pen on the papers.

“Very well, Ms. Tyler, since you feel so strongly about this, I want you to go down the hall. My new assistant, Captain Dan Ramsey, will take care of your complaint.”

“Thank you, Colonel. You won’t regret this, I promise!” Libby quickly made for the door. She knew the marines hated for the civilian press to delve into anything that went on within Camp Reed’s one-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-acre territory. Edwards was throwing her a bone, intending to foist her off on some unsuspecting captain who would sweep her plea under the carpet. Well, that wasn’t going to happen!

“Good day, Ms. Tyler. Anything further regarding this case is to be handled by Captain Ramsey. Understand?”

Libby smiled and opened the door. What Edwards meant was, “Don’t ever come barging into my office with an idiotic complaint like this again.”

“Of course, Colonel. Thank you for your time.”

Ardella gave her a dark look as Libby passed, but Libby smiled and called, “Thanks,” as she sailed out the door.

Once in the hall, its floor lined with highly polished green-and-white squares of tile contrasted by battleship gray walls, Libby walked slowly, reading the names on each of the office doors. The provost marshal’s office was part of the Headquarters building complex that sat off Teddy Roosevelt Boulevard, the one and only main highway loop that connected everything of importance on Reed.

Libby made it to the end of the hall without finding a Ramsey listed. Two rooms, doors shut, had no names on them. She wondered if Edwards was giving her the run[charound. The military was famous for it, as Libby knew all too well from personal experience. Brad had been killed in a helicopter accident, and the Marine Corps had done ev[chery[chthing possible to hush up the matter with interested civilian reporters. They’d even tried to avoid telling Libby the whole truth until she’d squeezed it out of them, with similar methods to those she’d just used on Edwards.

A tall, darkly tanned marine, showing three dark green staff-sergeant stripes and a rocker arm beneath it on his summer tropical-weight short-sleeved shirt, appeared out of a nearby office. Libby had heard of brig chasers, marines who formed a special arm of the provost marshal’s jurisdiction, charged with transferring dangerous prisoners to and from bases, but she had seen few close up. Still, she was certain this man was one. His harsh features included merciless-looking blue eyes and a mouth compressed into a hard line. Although she judged him to be in his late twenties, tension and power radiated around the man. The black nametag over his right breast pocket read Donnally, J., Corrections Div.

“Excuse me, Sergeant,” Libby called, lifting her hand.

He halted and slowly turned toward her, his eyes quick and appraising. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for Captain Dan Ramsey’s office.”

The sergeant nodded differentially. “Third door on the right, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

She moved with respect around the sergeant and headed for one of the closed doors with no name on it. Libby hesitated momentarily, knocked on the opaque window, then entered.

Dan Ramsey was down on his hands and knees, surrounded by a dozen boxes, when he heard someone knocking on his door. Before he could say, “Come in,” the door opened to reveal a woman in highly polished black boots, yellow breeches that outlined her form to perfection and a simple white blouse. He sat back on his heels and looked up at her as she stood poised in the doorway. Some things Dan had just never expected to see at HQ. One of them was a beautiful woman horseback rider. And God, was she beautiful. Not in a classically pretty way, but because of a unique combination of features that made her stand out like a wildflower in a meadow of dried grass.

“Hi…” Libby said hesitantly. “Are you Captain Ramsey?”

Dan grinned, liking the coverlet of freckles across her wide cheekbones and her nose. Her eyes were a glorious green that reminded him of new leaves in springtime. “Yes, ma’am, I am,” he agreed. The life in her eyes struck him deeply, as if sunlight danced in them. His gaze moved to her nose, which was crooked as if it had been broken at some time, but which suited her oval face. Dan’s eyes continued their inspection, coming to rest on her full, expressive mouth, parted and breathless looking, as if she weren’t sure she should be in his office. He quickly got up from the tile floor, dusted off his hands and stood awkwardly.

“I’m Libby Tyler, one of the base equestrian instructors,” Libby explained, offering her hand. As her fingers gripped Ramsey’s, she felt their latent power. She could tell so much from a handshake. She distrusted men who gave her a wimpy, weak one—and equally disliked those who tried to grind the bones of her hand together in a macho power display. But Ramsey’s warm, dry grip was strong without being overpowering, exerting just the right amount of pressure. And she liked the warmth and interest banked in his intelligent blue eyes.

Realizing he still had a hold on her hand, Dan reluctantly released her fingers. “Glad to meet you.” He looked around, a wry smile on his mouth. “I’d offer you a seat, but I’ve got boxes piled everywhere.”

“Are you moving in or out?” Libby asked, her hopes falling. It would be just her luck if Ramsey was moving out of the office.

“In.” Dan’s smile deepened. Libby’s sable hair was shoulder length with just a bit of curl, dancing with reddish highlights. He felt inexplicably drawn to her, but there wasn’t time to ask himself why.

“Oh, good,” Libby whispered, pressing a hand to her heart in relief. “Colonel Edwards told me to come down here and talk to you. He said you’d handle my case.”

Frowning, Dan looked around. His small office, painted a pale green and lighted by two windows covered with venetian blinds, was in a state of chaos. “Well…Ms. Tyler, I just got here this morning. Two hours ago, as a matter of fact.” What the hell was his boss doing, sending him a case to investigate? Wasn’t he supposed to move in and get briefed before he started taking on a caseload? He’d seen Edwards first thing this morning and had figured him as a no-nonsense officer like himself. But throwing him a case like this was unheard of in Dan’s book.

Libby shifted from foot to foot. “I know this is un[chusu[chal. And from the looks of it, Colonel Edwards didn’t take my case seriously, or why would he give it to someone who’s still moving in?”

Grinning, Dan nodded and put his hands on his hips. “It does seem odd, Ms. Tyler.”

“Call me Libby. I can’t stand marine formality. It just drives me crazy.”

“All right…Libby.” He liked her friendliness in this world of ceremony and protocol. She was tall—at least five-nine or -ten—and medium boned. Dan had always wondered why the advertising industry touted women who were little more than skin sagged over tiny skeletons. Libby probably weighed around a hundred and thirty or forty pounds, and on her tall frame it looked good. Damned good. She was curved and firm, a testament to her demanding physical job. Her shoulders were thrown back, her chin held proudly. He supposed it was riding that had given her such an elegant carriage.

“This is crazy. The colonel doesn’t care about what I’ve seen. He’s just dumped me on you. I’m sure he’s hoping I’ll just let it go.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Dan turned around and took two boxes off the leather chair in front of his desk. “Here, have a seat.” He went around his gray metal desk and removed several more boxes from his chair, a metal contraption that was unmercifully squeaky when he sat down. Fumbling for a pen from the pocket of his shirt, he finally found one, then hunted for the Investigation Report form that had to be filled out. It took nearly five minutes of rummaging through desk drawers to find what he wanted. He noticed Libby sat fretfully, crossing her legs first one way, then the other.

“Are you always in a hurry?” he teased, laying the forms on his desk.”

“Not usually.” Libby forced a smile as he arranged the items he’d need to take her report. Dan Ramsey was around thirty, she guessed, with dark, walnut brown hair cut military short. And he must be a good two inches over six feet tall. Like the man she’d seen in the hall, Ramsey was powerfully built, with an aura of latent power swirling around him. He must be part of the brig-chasing team, too, she guessed. She’d noticed that brig chasers were a lot like recon marines—set apart from other marines. There was a special look to them. A bearing, perhaps. Libby couldn’t put her finger on it, but Ramsey had it.

She liked his square face and intense blue eyes, which danced with obvious amusement. She just hoped he wasn’t laughing at her.

When Ramsey looked up from the form, Libby added, “I have to teach a class of nine year olds in about half an hour, that’s why I’m antsy.”

“I see….” Patiently, Dan filled out the required information at the top of the form. Like it or not, things only got done when forms were filled out properly.

“You’re Libby Tyler, riding instructor? Correct?”

“Yes.” Even though Libby had sworn she’d never be interested in a marine again, she found herself continuing to absorb Dan Ramsey. The summer uniform he wore, consisting of a short-sleeved shirt and trousers, looked good on him. He was broad shouldered, his arms darkly tanned, with a fine carpeting of dark hair across his forearms. His hands were large and callused, indicating he was a field officer who really didn’t want to be in an office. What attracted her to him? Was it his features? Those alert eyes that seem to look into her soul with ease? That hawklike nose? Or perhaps his mouth? Unexpectedly she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. The thought nearly unseated her. There was no way on earth she was ever going to be interested in a marine again. Not ever.

Squirming all the more in response to her unbidden thoughts, Libby saw him lift his head momentarily from the paperwork.

“Are you like a little schoolgirl who can’t sit still for two minutes?” Dan asked, baiting her.

Libby smiled broadly. “How’d you guess? I drove my teachers crazy in school. They thought I was hyperactive, but I wasn’t. I just hate sitting around. I’d rather be outside.” Why on earth was she telling him this? she wondered distractedly, even as she noticed the warmth that settled in his gaze at her admission.

“That’s why you’re a riding instructor and not stuck behind a desk like I am.”

She smiled at his insight. “You don’t belong behind a desk, either,” she guessed.

“Good observation,” Dan commented dryly. “But orders are orders.”

“Are you an attorney?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, good….”

“Did you think the colonel threw you a curve and sent you to some poor schmuck who didn’t know anything?”

Libby had the good grace to blush. She lowered her lashes. “He wasn’t very happy when I interrupted him without an appointment,” she admitted. “I thought he might not take my complaint seriously.” Looking up and meeting his interested gaze, Libby offered, “You’re not too shabby in the observation department yourself.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, it’s a definite skill. Sometimes a talent.”

Dan smiled. “We agree.” He had only half an hour to spend with this woman. Suddenly he wanted a lot more. Conversation seemed highly personal between them, which struck him as unusual. For the first time in two years, Dan realized he felt lighter, happier, as if the heaviness he’d carried in his heart for so long had dissipated at Libby Tyler’s unexpected and sunny entrance into his life. Well, maybe she wasn’t exactly like sunshine, he amended. More like a hot thoroughbred racehorse being asked to stand quietly in a stall when all she wanted to do was run.

“Okay, let’s get on with this report. Please understand it’s going to take me a while to move on this investigation.”

“No problem,” Libby assured him. He cares. The discovery, and accompanying emotion, flowed through her like a warm spring wind after a very cold winter. But the undeniable concern showed in Dan’s eyes, in the tilt of his head when he looked up at her. Libby swallowed convulsively. Her pulse seemed to be jagging through her, she realized with dismay. No man since Brad had ever set her heart to skittering this way before.

“So what’s the problem?”

Libby leaned forward, her hands resting on her thighs. “Captain, someone’s been using five horses from the stable. They’re riding them at night, after the stable’s shut down. No one except dependents who board horses there are allowed to ride after hours. But these are owned by the Marine Corps’ Special Services branch. The horses are ridden by off duty marines who can’t ride worth beans, and they’re exhausted at the end of the day. They’re not available for evening rides.”

“What time does the stable close?” Dan asked, struggling to act official when all he wanted to do was stare across the desk at Libby like a lovesick kid. She was so alive, so vital in a way he’d never seen in a woman.

“Nineteen-hundred hours,” Libby responded, offering the military terminology for 7:00 p.m.

“Five or seven days a week?”

Libby liked Dan’s attention to detail, and she felt a bit more reassured that he might actually be able to solve the mystery. “Seven days a week. The marines can go out on trail rides, in groups of twenty-five, with an instructor during the day. All kinds of riding activities are going on all day long. After that, the stable is available only to those who own horses here on base. And everything is shut down by 2100.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“For the last four months I’ve noticed something really strange, Captain Ramsey. The five horses I mentioned are being illegally ridden after hours. Now, it doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does, these poor animals are being ridden to death. Yesterday I came in to work early, at 0700, and there they were—heads hanging down, their feet spread apart so they wouldn’t collapse and fall down from exhaustion. Not only that, but their coats were still damp, and they were covered with sand. You know how the dust and sand is at Reed. No, I guess you wouldn’t, since you just got here. Anyway, for a horse’s coat to gather that much dust, the animal would have to be ridden for an awfully long time and a very long way.”

Dan scowled as he recorded her story. He liked the husky timber of Libby’s voice, and her concern and sincerity touched him. When he looked up and saw the fire and care burning in her emerald eyes, something walled and hidden deep in his heart seemed to break loose. He hadn’t been interested in any kind of an intimate relationship with a woman since his divorce from Janna, two years ago. But the fierce determination and anxiety in Libby’s eyes was toppling his defenses.

With a shake of his head, Dan forced himself to get back to the business at hand.

“What’s wrong, Captain?”

“Nothing….”

“You shook your head.”

He smiled wryly. “It had nothing to do with your case, Libby.”

“Oh…good. Well, as I was saying, these same five horses have been used like this at least four months in a row. I’ve been at the stables for three years now,” she added.

Dan glanced up. “Who’s in charge of the stables?”

“Stuart Garwood. He’s very well known and respected in eventing circles.”

“Eventing?”

“Yes. You know—a cross-country jumping course, a dressage competition and stadium jumping—the three events that test a horse and rider on all levels of stamina and ability.”

“Right…”

“Captain, do you know very much about horses?”

“I know you ride them.”

Libby groaned and rolled her eyes.

Ramsey laughed outright and sat back in his chair, enjoying her spontaneity. Where had this sprite of a woman come from? Time was running out. He only had ten minutes left with Libby Tyler.

“I have a feeling that anything I don’t know about horses you’ll teach me,” he told her, trying to maintain an air of gravity. He caught a whiff of her perfume, a distinct odor of cinnamon combined with a subtler spicy fragrance. Without thinking, Dan inhaled deeply and felt the stirring of dormant longings he’d thought had died years ago.

“You can’t realize the seriousness of my charges unless you know about horses.”

“I’m sure you’ll fill me in.”

Libby frowned, not at all sure he was taking her allegations seriously. There was something magical about Ramsey. He had an inner flame that Libby had never encountered. “Are you making fun of me?” she demanded.

“No.”

“Then why are you laughing? I see it in your eyes, Captain.”

Dan moved uncomfortably in his chair. Libby’s insights seemed as sharp as his. “The truth?”

“Nothing but. I’ve been accused by my friends and enemies alike of being too blunt and direct, but above all else, Captain, I value a person’s honesty. I want the truth, even if it hurts.”

“Well,” Dan said blandly, “this shouldn’t hurt you at all. I was smiling to myself because I was enjoying you as a person. I’ve never met a woman like you in my life.” He held her startled gaze. “That’s a compliment, in case you were wondering. And I take your charges about these horses very seriously.”

“Oh…” He liked her. Flustered, Libby looked away. He didn’t wear a wedding band. Neither did she. Was he making a pass at her? Taking her case for personal reasons rather than professional ones? She suddenly stood up and began pacing around the boxes in the small office.

“Captain, I care for the horses. All horses. Too many people treat them poorly out of ignorance. These five have been ridden into the ground! Yet Mr. Garwood doesn’t seem to care about it, which I find highly unusual. He’s always had the horses’ care high on his list of priorities. Why not these five? I’ve brought them to his attention, but he ignored me.” Libby swung around and held Ramsey’s azure gaze. “I’m not going to let this drop. If you don’t help me, I’m going to go to the civilian paper in Oceanside and make waves.”

“You don’t have to threaten me, Libby. I’ll assign someone to investigate as soon as I can get moved in. Fair enough?”

Libby stopped pacing, her gaze mercilessly probing his. “I know Mr. Garwood and Colonel Edwards think I’m some kind of flaky idiot for bringing this up. Many things in my life touch me, but kids and animals are especially important to me. If one of the children in my classes has a problem, I try to help. If one of the horses in my classes is hurt, I make sure it gets vet attention.” Her voice lowered with even more feeling. “I want to find out who is ridingfj those horses after hours. One of these days, those poor animals will end up lame, or worse. It’s not fair. They need someone to fight for them.”

Dan rose and nodded. “I like your concern, Libby. I promise I’ll get someone from the PM’s office on this as soon as humanly possible. Deal?”

Libby wondered if Ramsey was just giving her words she wanted to hear. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long before someone comes to investigate?”

“Within the next forty-eight hours. Is that soon enough for you?”

Relief flowed through Libby. “Yes.” She moved forward suddenly, extending her hand. “Thank you, Captain. You’ve been very patient and understanding.” She gripped his hand and shook it with feeling. “Mr. Garwood and Colonel Edwards think I’ve gone off on a tangent or something….”

The last thing Dan wanted to do was release Libby’s artistic fingers. Her hand was long and lean, like her, the nails cut no-nonsense short. She wasn’t the type of woman to use hair spray, nail polish or much makeup, he thought. No, Libby Tyler was a wildflower who thrived on fresh air, lots of sunshine and a demanding physical job.

“Perhaps they’ve misinterpreted your care for something else,” Dan told her quietly. Her eyes widened beautifully, and he had the powerful urge to take her in his arms and kiss the hell out of her. Shocked by the intensity of the feeling, Dan stepped back, afraid he’d really do it. Libby was like a magnet, inviting spontaneity and erratic behavior. He was sure the children in her classes loved her fiercely, because she’d never lost her own ability to be childlike.

Libby walked to the door and opened it. “Thank you, Captain.” She hesitated. For some reason, she wanted to stay. She liked Dan Ramsey’s ability to put her at ease, as well as his sincerity. Gripping the doorknob, she walked out.

Dan stood, hands on hips, and shook his head. His first case. Although he wasn’t supposed to get into normal PM investigative matters, he didn’t mind taking Libby’s case. The real reason he’d been transferred from the Yuma Marine Air Station to Reed was his unceasing efforts to eradicate drugs from the marine base. Colonel Edwards had heard about his success in Yuma and had pulled strings to get him here, to set up the same kind of program. So why had Edwards assigned Libby Tyler’s case to him? It certainly wasn’t drug related.

Then Dan laughed, something he hadn’t done often in the past two years. Maybe Libby’s tornadolike presence had so discombobulated Edwards that he’d foisted her off on the first person he could think of. Well, Edwards’s loss was his gain.

“Sir? Did you say something?”

Dan looked up. A marine staff sergeant stood in the doorway dressed in his summer uniform. “Uh, no…I was muttering to myself.” And then Dan became all-business. “I’m Captain Ramsey, the new assistant PM.”

The marine stepped forward and offered his hand. “Sergeant Joe Donnally, sir. I’ll be working with you. In fact, I’ll be your right-hand man around here.”

“Good, you’re just the person I wanted to see,” Dan said, turning around to pick up the report. “I’ve got a case I want you to investigate for me.”