FIVE

      Audrey wasn’t answering her phone. Julian knocked on her door again, willing her to open it. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, entertaining various scenarios that made it impossible to sleep. She shouldn’t be alone. Alone, she was at the mercy of a would-be killer. He never should’ve agreed to keep this from her father. Gunny Harris lived for two things—his only child and the Corps, in that order. The emotional wounds would be beyond repair if anything happened to her. Harris would be a broken man, and Julian would be to blame.

      He took the elevator to the ground level and entered the parking lot, tension tightening his shoulders at the sight of her older model Jetta. Cheering and whistles reached him from the activity fields between the apartment building and gym. A volleyball game was in progress. He wove through the vehicles to reach the spectators—out to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather—and spotted her at the net. The vise in his chest loosened.

      She was fine.

      She didn’t need him.

      He started to turn away, to return to his apartment and another dull morning, which would stretch into a duller afternoon, when she leaped into the air and spiked the ball. He was accustomed to seeing her in hospital scrubs. Today she sported a white T-shirt, red shorts and red, black and white sneakers. Slightly taller than average, with a lean torso and long, tanned legs, Audrey was a neat package of athleticism and grace.

      Julian drifted closer to watch the game. By the time it was over, he was certain she’d played on a college-level team. He would’ve put the question to her if he hadn’t been waylaid by a buddy from church who wasn’t shy in asking when Julian planned to return.

      When he looked around again, most of the players and spectators had dispersed. Audrey must’ve returned to her place. Ignoring the odd sense of disappointment, he walked past the line of cars closest to the field. The one in the last slot caught his attention.

      It was a sleek Mercedes with blacked-out windows. Because of its price tag, the vehicle alone was cause for a second look. The owner aroused more than mere curiosity. Steroid-sized muscles strained his designer suit. His face was mostly hidden by sunglasses and a bushy mustache. Because of his career, Julian had interacted with enough dirtbags to recognize the type. What was he doing at their complex? Running down some idiot who’d borrowed money from the wrong people? Checking up on a low-level drug pusher?

      Their complex wouldn’t be considered ultraluxurious, but neither was it low-end. The monthly fee was affordable for single professionals and young married couples, and out of reach for the type of resident who’d dally in petty crime.

      Unless...

      Foreboding niggled at the base of his skull. What if the man was here for an altogether different reason? One involving a hospital cover-up?

      * * *

      Audrey carried the sack of volleyballs to the storage closet, her mind on a certain spectator who had shaken her concentration. She hadn’t been surprised to see Julian on the edge of the crowd, despite the fact he hadn’t shown interest in group activities before. Honor spilled through his veins, and duty was etched in his DNA. He’d assumed the role of protector because she was his superior’s daughter. She was an obligation, plain and simple. She’d been reminded of that truth last night, when he’d quickly shut down her offer. Sharing a meal would’ve meant they were more than passing acquaintances brought together by outrageous circumstances. Sharing a meal would’ve meant he was interested in getting to know her better. He wasn’t.

      She embraced the disappointment, the sting of rejection. It was a timely reminder—her heart wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not even casual friendship, which she’d seen other women do but hadn’t ever experienced herself. She and Seth had been full-on serious from the start. The sad part? Audrey was fairly certain Julian would make a wonderful friend.

      She moved past mirrored walls and stacks of barbells. The quiet unnerved her. The exercise gym was unusually empty, no doubt on account of the unusually warm weather.

      Skirting the large, complex pulley-and-weight station, she entered the rear hallway, then set down the sack and unlocked the double closet doors with the key she’d gotten from the main office. A creaking sound echoed through the gym. Breath hitching, she whirled around and nearly stumbled over the balls. The lights were off, and shadows lurked on either end of the hall.

      “Hello?”

      The men’s bathroom was to her left, the women’s on her right. Maybe they were occupied.

      Wishing she didn’t have a reason to be paranoid, Audrey entered the walk-in closet and emptied the balls into a metal container. Then she hung the sack on a wall hook. Impatient to be outside and around other people, she closed the doors with more force than necessary. She tried to jam the key into the knob and accidentally dropped it. When she bent to retrieve it, she heard heavy breathing behind her.

      Panicked, she shot upward and spun around in time to see a giant man in a suit swinging a barbell at her head. She tried to dodge it. The blow landed on her upper arm, knocking her sideways. Pain radiated through her.

      Pushing off the doorjamb, she sprinted past him. He put out a foot. She went sprawling face-first onto the thin carpet. Rolling beneath a weight bench, she screamed when the barbell slammed into the cushioned seat, the force sending vibrations through the metal legs. Terror exploded inside. This man was going to crush her skull with that thing.

      Audrey flipped to her stomach and crawled from beneath the bench. Leaping to her feet, she raced for the nearest exit, only to skid to a stop. A second man—younger and slighter but no less a threat—blocked her escape. There was no going around him.

      She was trapped.

      A scream ripped through the narrow room, and it wasn’t hers.

      Time seemed to screech to a halt. At the far end, another volleyball