Pippa's Rescue Read online

  Table of Contents

  Pippa’s Rescue

  Copyright

  Praise for jj Keller

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Pippa’s Rescue

  by

  jj Keller

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Pippa’s Rescue

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by jj Keller

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Faery Rose Edition, 2013

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-063-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for jj Keller

  Four stars from Long and Short Reviews for THE VALKYRIE AND THE MARINE.

  ~*~

  “TRADE AGREEMENT rocks and rolls with action, suspense, thrills, chills and romance. It's a gutsy read and should come with a physician's warning. If you like to bite your nails to the quick while sitting on the edge of your seat, this read is for you and if you, like me, love your romance on the sizzle burner, well, don't wait another minute go out and get this book.”

  ~Larkspur, Long and Short Reviews

  ~*~

  THE TAROT CARD: “This is a wonderful, lighthearted, and fun quick read to start you day off well or to finish your day feeling good!”

  ~Steph B., The Romance Studio

  ~*~

  A true-to-life Kerry McClure had this to say:

  “J.J., I just finished the book and I absolutely loved it!! I felt like I (Kerry McClure) was on a little vacation! I have told many friends about it, so I hope they purchase it too!! My middle name is Jessica and my maiden name was Cameron so the part about the limo driver and Jessica—I was seeing my ‘names’ everywhere! I really liked the end! Great twist and it explained so much! Thank you and good luck on your next novel!”

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to people who rescue animals

  and Marines who honor the code.

  Chapter 1

  Tick tock. The monotonous sound should have been calming, but the tedious tone wasn’t.

  Instead the rhythm reminded him to find Wilson…and…kill him.

  Despite the low lights and semi-closed slats on the plantation blinds, Basil couldn’t prevent the darkness from coming forward.

  His acute loss brought pain, physical pain, burning into his chest. He closed his eyes and molded his tired body into the cushy sofa. Think positive thoughts and lose the shadow.

  Confident the psychiatrist’s drone would temporarily keep the scorch of darkness away, he relaxed. He must tolerate the psych eval and then finish the mission.

  The exit psychological evaluation was the last checklist item before he could leave his commission. His gut clutched at the idea of no longer being an active Marine, but necessary in order to achieve his goal.

  “Do you find that appealing, Basil?” Damn, he’d missed Dr. Crane’s prelude to the question.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What are your immediate plans for the future?” In time with the clock, the psychiatrist’s pen scratched on paper.

  One of his talents was interrogation. By delaying answering, he would assure the doctor exactly who was in control of this session. Although, perhaps he should give the doc something to chew on and find solace through the telling.

  “My last official mission.” He swallowed. “I thought I saw him running through the jungle in Africa, but he didn’t respond to my call.” He slid his glance to the side not wanting the shrink to see the slightest inkling of fear, an obscurity new to him.

  “Captain Lombard?”

  “Yes. Captain Harrison Lombard. Harry.”

  “Captain, could it be your mind tricked you into believing you saw your friend?” The doc’s smooth and lyrical voice came from a distance.

  Hell, yes, he wanted Harry to be by his side. No better Special Forces officer had risen to the top of their elite squad since he’d disappeared.

  “No.” He sneered. This shrink would love to make him sound crazy, especially after the ruckus he’d caused regarding Wilson. The incident straight-lined him into this blot-reading session. “I know he’s dead. Wilson killed him.”

  “But his body wasn’t found. There is no proof that Captain Lombard has been murdered.”

  Basil shot upright and swiveled around to plant his feet on the floor. At a loss of what to do with his hands, he braced his elbows on his knees and dragged his fingers through the bristle of hairs on his head. “My gut, which is rarely wrong, is telling me Wilson killed my best friend. Harry hired a detective to track our squad leader after the Korean betrayal and Wilson went AWOL. He must have gotten close, because both the investigator and Harry are missing.” Dead. “You’ve read the documents regarding the Korean mission, right?”

  Crane lowered his pointed nose. “I’ve read the reports, but there wasn’t any substantial proof that the mission had been sabotaged. Wilson’s statement validated the attack was a surprise.”

  He lowered his hands. What the hell! Had the records been altered? Was Harry’s take on the activity eclipsed by bureaucratic bullshit?

  “Basil.” Crane crossed his knees and repositioned his eyeglasses. “You’ve had a notable career in the Marines. With the recent promotion, I’d hate to document on your discharge papers about your last mission. Spying your assumed deceased friend romping around an African forest would be discrediting.”

  Behind those square glasses, a cold, obscured stare met his. Nothing would convince him to abandon his quest. “Could have been an illusion. This session is just part of the termination routine, right?”

  Instead of answering straightaway, the psychiatrist scribbled on his notepad again. The murky-shaded leather portfolio matched the sofa perfectly, as if part of the set. The chair squeaked as Dr. Crane repositioned himself. He pursed his lips. “What are your plans after you leave your commission?”

  Basil Vanguard’s initial instinct was to answer honestly—track down the murderer. Finding Harry through Wilson quickly became his power source, a dim link to the saving light. If the bastard had killed Harry, then justice might be swift. However, he knew how to play the political game and this session wasn’t finished. “After I write the formal note of apology for reading confidential files, I’ll spend time with my family. Maybe remodel my house.”

  “And Major Wilson?”

  “I’m sure CI will catch him.” Basil gave the doctor a reassuring smile.

  “Well then, Captain Vanguard, if you should need me before you leave the base or later”—he stood and extended a business card—“contact me.”

  Basil took
the card and gave the proffered hand a short, firm shake. He’d end the session in a fake light manner. If convicted of murdering Wilson, he’d need a positive psychological evaluation.

  ****

  Two Months Later. Pure, Indiana.

  The Horse Rescue Ranch, aptly named, was registered with the state as a refuge for abused equines. Wilson owned a fair amount of land. A good portion was fenced, including some of the woods. From the forked driveway, one could see three stables, two barns, and a utility building with a grass-green grill of a tractor peeking through. Gray metal grain silos provided shade for a number of young men who surrounded hay baling equipment. Pungent scents of wheat and corn invaded the space inside Basil’s rented Jeep.

  Minimal chance of his target being on the property, but according to the detective’s notes Harry’s family provided, Wilson had one sister. Basil parked the car close to the corral and evaluated the scene. Tiny, busty, and blonde, a dream woman stood in front of the fenced-in area. Inside the corral, a black-haired spirited woman wrapped her long legs around the belly of a reluctant horse. The stallion jerked his neck and the rider tugged the reins. A gentle nudge to the equine’s flank didn’t get him to move.

  Stiffness in Basil’s legs confirmed getting out of the car would be awkward after sitting for an extended time. War did that to a body, bruised it beyond repair. He shook his joints loose, smoothed the blue jean material, and meandered toward the corral. Despite the faint noise of distant farm machinery and horse hoofs as they pounded the dirt inside the corral, he experienced a twinge of excitement. Was he close to finding Harry’s killer?

  The woman on horseback kneed her mount, coming closer to the fence. She tilted her hat, tipping the brim enough to uncover a thin red indention from the pressure. Her dark eyes contained skepticism and a glimmer of interest. Things were looking up.

  Was she the protector of the little chick? As if reading his mind, Cutie-pie turned to look in his direction. He gave her a How-you-doin’? smile and she rewarded him with a broad grin and slight hand wave. Fortunately for him her slim fingers were unadorned. His gloom receded, waiting deep in his core to strike until another time, because for now he had entertainment.

  “Hi.” Perky and cute, the tiny blonde smiled large.

  Could she be Wilson’s sister? He’d certainly have an easier time romancing the information from her. He winked at her. No doubt she’d be a lot more fun than Sour-face. “Hi, I’m looking for David Wilson.”

  “Who’s askin’?” Husky and deep, the voice drew his attention back to the woman on horseback. Darkly beautiful, she resembled Xena, princess warrior, sitting high on her horse.

  A burnished red snout with a black nose blew air as the horse sidled, bumping into the side of the fence. A human leg hit the wood planks. The shapely leg led to a clearly indented waist and substantial set of knockers. Gloved fingers lowered her gray Stetson to shade and hide eyes the color of shiny bits of licorice. If it wasn’t for the angry expression the cowgirl would be doable in bed.

  “I’m a…friend.”

  She dismounted. “Take him to stable one, Brooke.”

  Agile Brooke climbed over the fence and took the reins. Apparently Basil wasn’t going to the stables.

  “Nice to meet you, Brooke.”

  She pinked real pretty, then sashayed away with the beast in tow. He enjoyed her traipsing around the corner. He wasn’t a fan of the four-legged transports, preferring a motorized vehicle, but he admired someone who was willing to take care, feed, and house abused animals. The sister cared about animals, and Wilson hid his stolen money in a horse rescue ranch. Fire burned inside him whenever the thought of small, large, or wild innocent creatures being preyed upon with cruelty on the hunter’s mind. What had happened to humanity?

  “She’s only eighteen. You might keep that in mind.” Angry Xena walked away.

  A couple of steps and he caught up. “Do you know where I can find David Wilson?”

  “No, I don’t. From your appearance”—her hand closest to him fluttered—“and swagger, you’re a Marine. You’re aware of his disappearance.” Arm at her side again, she maintained her brisk walk, heading toward a slim path between enormous white pine trees.

  He placed his hand on her forearm. “Yes, I’m part of his squad, Lieu—er, Captain Basil Vanguard.”

  She didn’t appear to recognize his name. Not unusual. Some military folk didn’t discuss their squads and missions off base. “Look, I understand you’re busy. I just need to talk to his sister. Do you know where I can find her?”

  “Which one?” she spat, resuming the fast pace.

  Nothing could have shocked him more. Wilson’s records only mentioned one sister. A twinge of guilt ripped through Basil about the base B&E, intel gathering for the right cause was permissible. Even the detective’s notes indicated one sister, Phillipa Wilson, age twenty-seven, who managed Horse Rescue Ranch in Pure, Indiana.

  Basil hooked her arm, stopping her. She looked into his face. His gut knotted in reaction. Her creamy complexion was perfect except for a couple of freckles near the bridge of her nose. Pink lips, unpainted, puckered, ready to deny him more information but certain to give him a blistering lecture about touching. And then, her mouth softened.

  “In order to find out, you’ll need to, at the very least, donate a boatload of money.” She shook her arm free and hurried along the make-believe pathway.

  Basil brushed aside pine-needled swags and hustled to keep close to her. His heart raced and he became short of breath. He shouldn’t have slacked off the exercise the past several weeks, or maybe he was aging faster now that his tour of duty had ended. “Where do I go to do this? Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “I didn’t offer. I respond to Pippa. Come along, I’ll show you the way.” She glanced over her shoulder. “For a Marine, you’re awfully slow.”

  ****

  Pine needles crunched under her feet. Phillipa Wilson wished she could escape the man in tow. He was nice enough. The stutter between lieutenant and captain could mean he just got the promotion, or he was fibbing to impress her. A quick glance over her shoulder showed a light-brown five o’clock shadow on a taut jaw.

  She sighed. He wasn’t going to give up with his questions. Although, he didn’t seem to figure that Pippa stood short for Phillipa, so maybe he wasn’t the prize winner in the horse show. They arrived at the main house. The sight left her breathless, as always. A simple white U-shaped ranch with a wrap-around porch wasn’t close to keeping with the mansions surrounding her property, but she’d do anything to hang onto the farm and the animals in desperate need of a loving home. She had fifteen days to find her brother and have him sign the estate over to her. Too bad he was AWOL from the Marines—and her.

  If it wasn’t for her close relationship with the bank manager’s son, they would be holding the mortgage and all the assets right this minute. The Marine’s heavy breathing sounded close. She glanced at him. Perhaps instead of trying to scare away the enemy, she should bring the only close link to her brother into the fold.

  The door stuck as always, and she gave it a fierce tug. When it finally opened she waved him forward, but instead he flattened his hand on the wood and nodded, waiting for her to enter first. Wow. An officer and a gentleman; who would have thought?

  “Mattie, this is Captain Basil Vanguard. He’d like to make a donation and volunteer while on leave.” She half-turned to him. “Captain—”

  “Basil. I’m no longer with the military.” His mouth clamped shut, as if on second thought he shouldn’t have shared the info. Christ, could he be part of David’s team of thieves?

  “Basil, Mattie will help you get the documents signed and explain how to groom and feed horses seven days a week, 365 days a year. You might have to clean stalls and if willing, attend fundraisers to garner money.” She smiled at Mattie’s shocked expression. Her brown-spotted wrinkled hand went to her chest, so Pippa winked.

  Her friend gave a slight nod, smoothed a lo
ose strand of gray hair behind a bejeweled ear, and straightened her back. The elderly woman had held the job of office manager for years. She wouldn’t be opposed to spending a fair amount of time with a handsome Marine, even if her task was to discourage him from volunteering while offering to handle his donation. Pippa chuckled. They’d developed the routine years ago in order to weed out people who were not truly devoted to being a consistent helper. A constant turnover wasn’t good for traumatized animals.

  “Mr. Vanguard, I’ll leave you in good hands.” Pippa pivoted, walked along a short corridor, then cut right to go to her private apartment. She glanced at David’s suite on the left side of the ranch house in false hope the door to his rooms would be open. No such luck. Other than their suites, the rest of the space was dedicated to the not-for-profit business. God willing, the horse ranch would remain in her care. Enough browbeating. She’d take one step at a time. Her date would be arriving in half an hour.

  Her date? Kyle Walker, aka, her link to a grace period before the bank held her home in discharge of a debt justly due. The very sight of the skinny, tall man churned her stomach. Of those original thirty days, only fifteen were left. The charges and lawsuits against David must be dropped or she had to find him. Ha. Her only hope was to locate her brother. Could Captain Vanguard help her? In the bathroom she dropped her clothes and stomped on them. She shouldn’t have told Mattie to discourage him from volunteering. She could really use whatever he knew about David.

  Showered and partially dressed in a long black skirt and silver bra, she blew the top of her hair dry and left the tail to be loosely knotted at her nape. A quick rat-a-tat-tat knock resounded on her bedroom door. She clipped the pewter spring of the hair fastener into place. Not Mattie’s usual knock, but no doubt she couldn’t wait to get the scoop on Captain Hunk. “Come in.”