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  “Everything is going to be all right.” Gabe moved to her and pulled her against him.

  His arms felt so good, Renata wanted to relax. “You can’t be sure of that. We still haven’t found the killer.”

  “I’m sure as anyone can be of anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe in you.” He drew back enough that he could see into her eyes. “I believe in us. Together, we’ll find proof—”

  “You believe in us?” she echoed, her heart thumping against her ribs.

  “We make an unstoppable investigative team.”

  “Oh.” She thought Gabe was getting to something more intimate. It certainly felt as if it should be, her being in his arms with his body pressed against her, hips to hips, breasts to chest.

  “I thought maybe you meant something more personal,” she said, unable to stop herself.

  Gabe’s low, sexy voice vibrated through her when he asked, “Do you want it to be more personal?”

  Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

  August marks a special month at Harlequin Intrigue as we commemorate our twentieth anniversary! Over the past two decades we’ve satisfied our devoted readers’ diverse appetites with a vast smorgasbord of romantic suspense page-turners. Now, as we look forward to the future, we continue to stand by our promise to deliver thrilling mysteries penned by stellar authors.

  As part of our celebration, our much-anticipated new promotion, ECLIPSE, takes flight. With one book planned per month, these stirring Gothic-inspired stories will sweep you into an entrancing landscape of danger, deceit…and desire. Leona Karr sets the stage for mind-bending mystery with debut title, A Dangerous Inheritance.

  A high-risk undercover assignment turns treacherous when smoldering seduction turns to forbidden love, in Bulletproof Billionaire by Mallory Kane, the second installment of NEW ORLEANS CONFIDENTIAL. Then, peril closes in on two torn-apart lovers, in Midnight Disclosures— Rita Herron’s latest book in her spine-tingling medical research series, NIGHTHAWK ISLAND.

  Patricia Rosemoor proves that the fear of the unknown can be a real aphrodisiac in On the List—the fourth installment of CLUB UNDERCOVER. Code blue! Patients are mysteriously dropping like flies in Boston General Hospital, and it’s a race against time to prevent the killer from striking again, in Intensive Care by Jessica Andersen.

  To round off an unforgettable month, Jackie Manning returns to the lineup with Sudden Alliance—a woman-in-jeopardy tale fraught with nonstop action…and a lethal attraction!

  Join in on the festivities by checking out all our selections this month!

  Sincerely,

  Denise O’Sullivan

  Harlequin Intrigue Senior Editor

  ON THE LIST

  PATRICIA ROSEMOOR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To research her novels, Patricia Rosemoor is willing to swim with dolphins, round up mustangs or howl with wolves—“whatever it takes to write a credible tale.” She’s the author of contemporary, historical and paranormal romances, but her first love has always been romantic suspense. She won both a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in Series Romantic Suspense and a Reviewer’s Choice Award for one of her more than thirty Intrigue novels. She’s now writing erotic thrillers for Harlequin Blaze.

  She would love to know what you think of this story. Write to Patricia Rosemoor at P.O. Box 578297, Chicago, IL 60657-8297 or via e-mail at [email protected], and visit her Web site at www.PatriciaRosemoor.com.

  Books by Patricia Rosemoor

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  38—DOUBLE IMAGES

  55—DANGEROUS ILLUSIONS

  74—DEATH SPIRAL

  81—CRIMSON HOLIDAY

  95—AMBUSHED

  113—DO UNTO OTHERS

  121—TICKET TO NOWHERE

  161—PUSHED TO THE LIMIT

  163—SQUARING ACCOUNTS

  165—NO HOLDS BARRED

  199—THE KISS OF DEATH

  219—TORCH JOB

  243—DEAD HEAT

  250—HAUNTED

  283—SILENT SEA

  291—CRIMSON NIGHTMARE

  317—DROP DEAD GORGEOUS

  346—THE DESPERADO

  361—LUCKY DEVIL

  382—SEE ME IN YOUR DREAMS *

  386—TELL ME NO LIES *

  390—TOUCH ME IN THE DARK *

  439—BEFORE THE FALL

  451—AFTER THE DARK

  483—NEVER CRY WOLF *

  499—A LOVER AWAITS

  530—COWBOY JUSTICE

  559—HEART OF A LAWMAN †

  563—THE LONE WOLF’S CHILD †

  567—A RANCHER’S VOW †

  629—SOMEONE TO PROTECT HER

  661—MYSTERIOUS STRANGER *

  665—COWBOY PROTECTOR *

  684—GYPSY MAGIC

  “Andrei”

  703—FAKE I.D. WIFE **

  707—VIP PROTECTOR **

  745—THE BOYS IN BLUE

  “Zachary”

  785—VELVET ROPES **

  791—ON THE LIST **

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Renata Fox—The bright, young Safenet agent thinks her agency got the wrong man accused of being the Chicago Sniper. Now someone wants her dead, and only a mysterious stranger can help her.

  Gabriel Connor—The elusive Team Undercover operative has his own secret reasons for wanting to protect Renata and prove her sniper theory is correct.

  Muti Hawass—He’s been identified as the Chicago Sniper, then shot dead. But is he the real killer or another innocent victim?

  Tag Garvey—A sharpshooter with Safenet, why is he suddenly harassing Renata?

  Frank Broden—The Safenet agent supports Renata, but is that just a cover to get close to her and end her quest for justice for good?

  Elliott Mulvihill—The director of Safenet has ordered Renata to cease her inquiry or she could lose her job.

  Thanks again to Sergeant David Case for giving me some insight on police procedures and relationships between local police and federal agencies.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Who would be the next victim?

  For nearly a week now, Chicago residents had been keeping to themselves, venturing out of their homes only to go to work or to perform some necessary task. Even then, they’d looked over their shoulders, wondering who the City Sniper would stake out next. Some believed the shooter was a psychotic with a god complex, but the majority believed he was a terrorist, drawing attention and manpower to the shootings while more widespread plans were afoot.

  Good.

  Standing back from the apartment window so he wouldn’t be seen, he laughed to himself. Below, the head of S.A.F.E., which stood for Security Agency Fighting Extremism—a Homeland Security operation—signaled the uniformed men to scramble into position. He spotted two sharpshooters taking position on the roof opposite and knew there would be more men overhead that he couldn’t see. They were there because the authorities had pinned the identity of the sniper who killed citizens seemingly at random.

  Seemingly being the operative word.

  Believing they had the killer in their grasp, they thought they were going to take him down. Fools! A well-placed phone call had set up the
bogus confrontation exactly as he’d hoped.

  The men below scurried around like ants, so cocksure of themselves. Oh, they would get their supposed sniper—a known suspect already under government surveillance. They would even find their proof.

  But they wouldn’t find him.

  The shootings would stop, though, and the authorities would pat each other on the back, certain they’d gotten their man.

  The area below was still.

  No movement…no sound…as if the city were holding its collective breath.

  And then he heard the door below opening.

  He steeled himself to stay where he was, away from the window, so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. He wanted the focus to remain right where he’d centered it.

  Then he saw him. Muti Hawass scurried along the courtyard sidewalk, a long package in his hand. One long enough to hold a weapon.

  He raised his own and watched the man through his scope.

  “Stay where you are, Hawass!” came a shout from streetside.

  Hawass froze, then pulled a handgun and blasted away as he tried to make a run for it.

  He smiled. The patsy had played right into his hands.

  Several cracks from various points reverberated through the courtyard and Hawass stumbled, the package dropping from his hand. Then the man dropped, too, face down in the courtyard, brains and blood splattering the sidewalk around him.

  Dead…no doubt there.

  Exactly as planned.

  Chapter One

  “‘Elliott Mulvihill, director of S.A.F.E., the newest arm of Homeland Security, denies allegations that Muti Hawass wasn’t the City Sniper,’” Gabriel Connor read. He snapped the morning newspaper open and went on.

  “‘The proof is in the aftermath,’ Mulvihill said. ‘The sniper took five lives, a new victim every other day for nearly two weeks. And a week has gone by since he was unfortunately killed, and there hasn’t been another incident.’

  “‘The denial comes in response to a report filed by Agent Renata Fox. When questioned by a WBNX reporter, Fox told all. She found information in the histories of the victims that indicated the shootings were not random, after all.’

  “‘And if something so important about an investigation is off, then it’s time to look at all the facts again,’ Fox maintains.”

  Having relayed the story in a nutshell, Gabe lowered the newspaper to look at his boss. They were in Gideon’s Club Undercover office—all black and chrome furniture and deep blue walls. Gideon himself reclined with his feet up on his desk, looking more relaxed than he had since Gabe had first met him several years before when they’d both needed new identities.

  “So what do you think?” Gabe asked.

  “That Agent Fox’s theory has at least enough merit to question the case.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Gabe knew that Fox had followed her gut and had taken another look at the case files after Hawass was killed. She’d noticed that each of those victims had something off in their histories. Not one average, law-abiding John Q. Citizen among them. So she’d questioned whether there might be a criminal connection that took the shootings out of the terrorist arena and therefore out of Muti Hawass’s hands.

  Meaning, the sniper was still out there…

  “Mulvihill had a lot of nerve stopping her report from going further,” Gabe said, his voice bitter. “I don’t blame Fox for blowing the whistle on him.” She’d been the darling of the media—and no doubt the pariah of S.A.F.E.—for the last twenty-four hours, Gabe thought.

  Gideon pinned Gabe with his intense blue gaze. “It’s not the shooter who interests you.”

  “Nope.”

  “And it’s not that you feel sorry for Fox, either.”

  “You’re on a roll.”

  “It’s Mulvihill.”

  Gabe nodded. Gideon knew his background. Not many did. Not many men Gabe could trust with it. Like souls, they’d bonded the first time they’d been thrown together, and the rest was history.

  Maybe that’s why, when he’d been at loose ends and wanting a friendly face six months before, he’d looked up Gideon here at Club Undercover. Now Gabe was settled in as Club Undercover’s security chief. And on the side, he’d helped Gideon and his team with a couple of covert operations, as well.

  Club Undercover…when the desperate have nowhere else to turn…

  “So what do you have in mind?” Gideon asked.

  “I’m going after Mulvihill, of course. I’m going to find out whether or not the director of S.A.F.E. pushed the task force in the wrong direction as Agent Fox indicated. And if he did, I’m going to make sure he gets nailed.”

  At least for his latest crime.

  “And your plan is…?”

  “Use the woman to get to him.”

  FEELING LIKE the wind had been knocked out of her sails in the past twenty-four hours, Renata Fox stared out of the S.A.F.E. office window and wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by blowing the whistle on the agency. More specifically, on Elliott Mulvihill.

  “He says my judgment is impaired,” she told Agent Paul Broden, one of the few employees who seemed willing to speak to her today.

  Broden was a little under six feet tall, with a body that appeared more agile than pumped. His thinning blond hair and three-piece suit added to his quiet command. They were in his cubicle—hers didn’t have a window. Being one of S.A.F.E.’s top agents, he got sunlight and a view of other Chicago Loop office buildings and pedestrians scurrying along the streets below. Too bad his legendary dedication to the job had lost him his family. His wife had blamed their teenage son’s problem with drugs on an absent father and had divorced Broden shortly after Renata had joined the agency.

  “You are new at this,” he reminded her.

  “I was hired for my skills,” she said, meeting his steady gray gaze that held just a touch of pity.

  She’d only joined this S.A.F.E. office that summer after training in Virginia. And before that, she’d been a corporate mediator with an advanced degree in psychology. This was her first job in law enforcement, and if she’d ever wanted to be part of the good-old-boy network, she’d just put herself squarely out of the running.

  “But the task force didn’t need a negotiator in this case.”

  “But they needed a good psychologist. That’s why Mulvihill gave me open access to the files. He should have given me those files sooner than he did. It all happened too fast. And Muti Hawass wasn’t the sniper,” she added for good measure.

  “I know you believe that.” Broden drummed his long fingers on the desk. “No one’s been shot since he was put down.”

  “Put down?” she echoed, taken aback by the phrasing.

  “Like a rabid animal. Hawass was no innocent. He was already on the watch list. Even if he’s not the sniper, that doesn’t mean he’s never killed anyone.”

  Renata gaped at him. “That’s cold, Broden.”

  “That’s realistic. Consider the background we have on Hawass. Consorting with known terrorists, being picked up several times for suspected terrorist activities. We just never could get the goods on him.”

  Renata knew other law enforcement people had the same attitude—letting an offender who got off on one crime pay for another seemed to be okay with them.

  “What about justice?” Renata asked.

  “Keep in mind Hawass was no innocent and you’ll feel better.”

  But no, she really wouldn’t, Renata thought, which probably made her as naive as she was green.

  “I know what it’s like to make a mistake and hold unpopular opinions,” Broden stated. “But the agency hasn’t recovered after the Embry Lake fiasco, and here we are with another potential problem.”

  Months before she’d been hired, the Embry Lake standoff in Michigan had echoed the FBI’s Ruby Ridge incident. Nine civilians had been killed, starting with militia leader Joshua Hague.

  “This is no Embry Lake,” she insiste
d.

  “You’re right. And people here will come around. You need to hang in there until things die down. In the meantime, drop this whistle-blower thing, Renata, for the sake of your career. Your first big assignment and you’ve made a powerful enemy.”

  Renata sighed. Director Elliott Mulvihill had looked right through her that morning. “I appreciate your not turning your back on me, Broden.”

  “Hey, everyone makes a mistake. I’m just giving you a pass on this one.”

  But she hadn’t made a mistake, Renata thought, as she traded Broden’s cubicle for her own.

  She would bet her career on it.

  She had bet her career on it.

  Though she couldn’t be fired for going over the director’s head and speaking out, there were other ways to punish her, to make her quit. But she wasn’t going to quit. She couldn’t let her family be mired in humiliation and disgrace again. She’d heard the anxiety in her mom’s voice when she’d called that morning. Renata had assured her mom that she would be all right. That her career would survive.

  But would it?

  That remained the uppermost worry on her mind as she checked her messages—another from her mom, the rest from reporters who were hoping to make a name on her back. Not that she was going to cooperate. The only call she intended to return was her mother’s.

  Tapping into her speed dial, Renata took a few deep breaths and pasted a familiar smile on her face, hoping it reached her voice.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  “Renata, honey, reporters have been calling here all morning. And I think one is outside waiting for me to leave the house. What do I tell them?”

  “Don’t talk to any reporters, Mom. You don’t have to. Maybe you should go visit Aunt Lainie until this passes over.”

  Her mom wasn’t strong like she was, Renata knew. The publicity and the effect on her family was the only thing she regretted about going public with that report. It brought up terrible memories for them all, but worst for her mom. Linda Fox had never gotten over what had happened to her beloved husband—she’d had a breakdown over his death. But her dad had instilled such strong ethics in Renata. She’d had to do what her conscience directed.