CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Thirteen months later…
At two o’clock in the morning, Jenny Hanford still sat at her desk in the half-lit office on the first floor of her house. Day or night, nothing much happened in Berry Lake, Washington, a small town located north of the Columbia River Gorge. Maybe that was why she’d grown up devouring novels and now wrote books full of intrigue, espionage, and non-stop action.
Jenny stifled a yawn.
Yes, she was tired, but sleep could wait until she finished the draft of her new novel,
Assassin Fever
—the next volume in her bestselling thriller series called the Thorpe Files, which featured spy extraordinaire Ashton Thorpe.
Almost there…
As sights, sounds, and smells swirled through her mind, her fingers flew over the keyboard. The tapping sound became nothing more than white noise. She focused on the screen. Letters turned into words that became sentences and then paragraphs.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Tears stung her eyes.
Oh, Ash. You did it. You saved the world. Again.
With a sigh, she typed her two favorite words in the English language—
The End
. The draft was finished.
Satisfaction flowed through her.
A good feeling considering she’d been certain the story was the worst thing she’d ever written only four days ago. Still not perfect, but the manuscript didn’t suck as badly as she’d thought. All she needed was feedback from her editor so she could do revisions. She typed a quick email, attached the file, and then hit send.
Now she could sleep. Well, once her brain slowed down.
If she went to bed now, she wouldn’t sleep. The story still looped through her mind. The elation of finishing mixed with the sadness of saying goodbye for now to her favorite character.
Might as well do something productive until she could no longer stay awake.
The number of emails in her inbox made her do a double take. Jenny groaned. She’d been ignoring everything for almost two weeks, but…
She groaned again.
Don’t look at them.
But, of course, she had to.
Jenny deleted as much of the junk as she could. Message notifications from her online book club could wait until tomorrow. They were used to her disappearing to write. When she’d first joined the Romantic Hearts Book Club, she’d been a full-time textbook editor and part-time author. Now she only edited an occasional textbook project—usually as a favor to her former boss—and wrote full time.
So much had changed over the past four years. Her entire life really, though few knew because she’d never made a big deal over writing as Jenna Ford. She wasn’t
that
secretive about her pseudonym, but she’d quickly learned too many people only wanted to be
Jenna’s
friend. Not Jenny’s.
Maybe that was why her closest friends, other than her sister-in-law and some college classmates, were people she’d met virtually. She could just be herself with them. It was easier that way.
She scrolled through her inbox and deleted what she could. The subject line “
Message in Bottle Found
” caught her attention.
She did a double take. “Seriously?”
Over a year ago—thirteen months to be exact—she’d taken a Caribbean vacation on Enchanted Island with eleven other members of her book club. Meeting in person seemed appropriate after being together online for three years.
Boy, was it ever!
Spending face-to-face time with friends, having fun in the sun, and talking about books had been the perfect getaway. Jenny hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a vacation—or how enjoyable it would be to hang out with women from the book world.
Before they returned home, they’d each tossed a message in a bottle into the ocean in hopes of finding true love. They weren’t called the Romantic Hearts for nothing. Surprisingly, a few had met their dream heroes after they received replies and were now married.
Not Jenny.
She’d gone into the bottle toss with zero expectations. Oh, she’d hoped it might work out, but deep in her heart of hearts, she had a feeling it wouldn’t. She might write fiction, but her life was no storybook. Her romantic past read more like a comedy—a dark one. She’d assumed a tanker or cargo ship would run over her bottle and the note would never be read. But now…
Jenny tapped on the subject line.
Message in Bottle Found
DOR2008@…
To: Jenny <8675309@…>
Message received, Jenny. I assume that’s your name. 8675309 is one of my mom’s favorite songs.
Bottle found on a beach in Key West.
An asteroid has a better chance of causing an ELE than an EMP. Just sayin’.
Roswell, seriously? You should be more embarrassed about that than someone reading your message in a bottle. Guess you’re a Bigfoot believer, too.
DOR
P.S. I am single and male, but not in the market for a soul mate. Hope you’ve found your true love.
Well, her bottle had at least reached an unmarried guy. What were the odds of that?
She laughed at his last line.
Jenny hadn’t found her one true love, but that was okay. She had room for only one man in her life.
Yep, good old Ashton Thorpe.
He might only live in her mind and on the pages of her novels, but he was the ultimate book boyfriend—the kind of guy men aspired to be. Her series that featured him had made more money than she’d ever imagined having, and Ash would soon grace the big screen in what the producers hoped would be a successful movie franchise.
He was made for that kind of stardom… if the actor slated to play Ash could pull off his combination of courage, daring, and hotness. The right amount of swagger wouldn’t hurt, either.
Larger than life was the only way to describe Ash. Perfect was another. Make believe, yes, but no guy she’d dated could compete. Although… she hadn’t given up hope one would someday.
Jenny read the message again. The fact DOR knew the song she used for her email address impressed her. That the bottle reached Key West didn’t surprise her given the currents and the amount of time that had passed. The Roswell and Bigfoot comments brought a much-needed smile to her tired face.
Yawning, she typed off a quick reply. The cursor hovered over the send button.
Another yawn.
In the morning, Jenny would likely regret she’d responded, but she was too tired to care now. She hit send.
Army Sergeant Darragh, aka Dare, O’Rourke needed a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order, but both would have to wait until after the debriefing. As he sat on a bench waiting for the rest of his squad to arrive, he pulled out his cell phone. His mom and his three sisters had texted, but nothing urgent.
Staff Sergeant Mitch Hamilton lumbered up and sat next to Dare. They’d deployed together numerous times. Hamilton was a couple of years older and an excellent leader, one who knew when to get in a soldier’s face or act like a big brother.
Yep, usually, he was in Dare’s face.
Hamilton stretched out his long, dust-covered legs. “Love training at the range for a few days, but I’m going to enjoy having a long weekend off. I hope Lizzy doesn’t hand me a honey-do list the minute I walk through the door.”
“Given she does every weekend you are home, I’d say rest up now, Sergeant.”
“You’re right.” Hamilton laughed. “Any plans, O’Rourke?”
“Sleep and more sleep.” Dare clicked on his email app. He leaned forward to take a closer look at the screen. “No way.”
“Everything okay?” Hamilton asked.
“Yeah.” Dare stared at the email from Jenny. “Just got an email from someone.”
“A woman?”
He half-laughed. “I think she’s a woman.”
“Whoa.” Hamilton’s visible concern made Dare straighten. “Back up, O’Rourke. You think? You don’t know?”
“I…” Might as well start at the beginning. “When I was on leave in the Florida Keys, I found a message in a bottle. There was an email address on it. The person wanted to know where the bottle was found, so I wrote back. This is her reply.”
“Catfish.”
“Maybe.” Dare thought about that reality show. Many people had been strung along by an online scammer pretending to be someone they weren’t. Although, he
had
made it clear he wasn’t looking for romance. “But she had no idea who would find the bottle or if they’d respond. She probably replied because she was lonely.”
Weren’t most people
? Even though Dare was surrounded by amazing guys—his brothers-in-arms who would risk their lives for him—he was lonely at times.
“If she replied with a marriage proposal or nude pic, she’s catfishing,” Hamilton said.
If she had, Dare was hitting the delete key. Call him old-fashioned, but no.
“Guess we’ll find out.” He opened the email.
Re: Message in Bottle Found
Jenny <8675309@…>
To: DOR2008@…
You deduced the song reference correctly, however…
Jenny suffered only mild embarrassment, rather than death, after realizing someone read her message in the bottle. That led her to go hiking in the woods nearby. No one has heard from her since. Large footprints and splotches of dark, smelly fur were found at her last-known location.
Sasquatch lives. Possible soul mate? Let’s hope so for Jenny’s sake.
P.S. Embarrassed by Roswell? Never. Just because you haven’t seen a UFO doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
P.P.S. I haven’t seen a UFO myself, but the documentaries on Roswell are fascinating. Watch one if you get the chance. It happened!
Dare laughed. No marriage proposal or nude pic, but Jenny was funny. A little off the wall, but he’d known that from her bottle message.
Hamilton read the email when Dare tilted the phone toward him. “Good sense of humor. Sounds smart. A little geeky. I think you’ve found yourself a girl. Write her back.”
“I have no idea who she is or if she’s even real. Why would I keep this going?”
Hamilton looked around as if to see if anyone was near. No one stood close enough to overhear. “Because this is the biggest smile I’ve seen on your face in over a year. It’s time you moved on, Dare.”
That was the first time he’d heard Hamilton use his nickname in months. Not since Mitch had been promoted to staff sergeant.
“I’ve moved on,” Dare said.
“Really?”
The disbelief in Hamilton’s voice made Dare bristle. What could he say?
There hadn’t been much for him to smile about. A year and a half ago, he’d discovered his girlfriend, Kayla, was cheating on him with his best friend, Brock. Dare had been planning to propose. Instead, his trust had been betrayed by the two people closest to him in the worst possible way. At least Brock had transferred to a different company. Seeing him every day would have sucked.
Dare dragged the toe of his boot across the asphalt. “Yes.”
“When was your last date, O’Rourke?”
He shrugged. That wasn’t an answer, but the truth would only give Hamilton more ammunition.
A corner of the staff sergeant’s mouth lifted. “That long ago, huh?”
Dare nodded once. He hadn’t felt like meeting women after what happened with Kayla and Brock. Not wanting to be hurt again had been his priority.
“I’ve been thinking about dating,” Dare finally said.
“Maybe this Jenny person is a way to get in the game and put yourself out there.”
Dare drank a swig of water.
“What have you got to lose?” Hamilton asked.
“Money and my identity if she, or he, is a scammer.”
Hamilton cursed. “You’re a United States Army Ranger, O’Rourke. You’d better be smarter than that.”
“I am.” Granted, he’d been clueless about what Kayla had been doing with Brock or maybe Dare just hadn’t wanted to see.
“Then reply.” Hamilton’s tone challenged Dare the same way it had in the past, often in a faraway land on a different continent. “You know you want to.”
Maybe Dare did. He typed a quick email.
“Send it,” Hamilton ordered.
“You can’t tell me what to do in my personal life.”
“I can, and I did.” Hamilton laughed. “Relax, O’Rourke. I’m only doing this because it’s for your own good.”
Dare hesitated. Keeping the email exchange going made no sense. “This is a bad idea.”
“When have you let that stop you before, O’Rourke?”
They didn’t call him Dare for nothing. “Never.”
He didn’t know why he was putting so much thought into this. It was just an email. No big deal. He’d probably never hear from Jenny again.
Dare hit send. “Done.”