Page 1 of Cooper's Command

PROLOGUE

Was that a growl?

Cooper Harris bolted upright, instinctively reaching for his gun stashed inside the nightstand drawer before tossing aside the covers and swinging his feet off the edge of the bed. He glanced at Whiskey, wondering if he’d imagined the raspy sound when the dog simply lifted her head, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind before lowering it to rest on her paws, again. Body lax. Nothing to suggest there was any form of threat looming nearby.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, rocking to his feet as placed his Sig on the table. Ever since he’d returned from Columbia with his best friend, Bellamy Chance, and the rest of his team — since freaking Octavia Reynolds had been miraculously resurrected from the dead — Coop had been on edge. Strung tight, if he was being honest. The fact he’d run into Nova Martin, DEA agent and the one woman who’d always managed to get under his skin, hadn’t helped calm his nerves any. Not when just being in her presence had gotten his heart pumping. Had his chest constricting around every breath.

He’d tried to push his feelings aside. To remind himself they’d never gotten the chance to be serious. More random texts interspersed with a string of first dates that had always gotteninterrupted by one of them getting called off to work. Either him with one of the U.S. Coast Guard’s Tactical Law Enforcement units. Or her back to Bogotá in what seemed like one undercover assignment after another. And not routine stuff. Special Agent Nova Martin was hardcore in every aspect of the word, generally mixing with cartel and mafia assholes. The kind who wouldn’t think twice about offing a Drug Enforcement Agent.

But despite his efforts — all the time and distance between them — his damn heart hadn’t gotten the memo. Had spent every second — other than when they’d been getting shot at — tripping over itself inside his chest. As if it didn’t quite fit and was banging against his ribs in an attempt to regain some semblance of equilibrium. Even now, just picturing her— replaying the raspy way she said his name — made it hard to breathe.

Crazy.

That’s what he was. Especially when Nova hadn’t given him any indication she wanted to see if they might actually have a chance at a relationship. A possibility now that he’d retired from the Coast Guard and moved to the Big Island with the other three members of his team to run the new K9 program for the Brotherhood Protectors.

Which, of course, she hadn’t. She’d just lost her partner, Special Agent David Tate, and all because of a rogue operation. One that could end up biting Nova in the ass now that her boss had learned that she’d been covering for Tate for years. Had been secretly investigating right alongside him. A truth even Tate hadn’t been aware of. The fact she’d headed straight for Hawai’i instead of going home to Seattle…

It was another rogue mission in the making because Cooper knew, without a doubt, that she wouldn’t stay on the sidelines. Use the mandatory leave she’d been forced to take to mourn theloss of a man who’d been so much more than a colleague and a mentor.

Tate had been family. The closest thing she’d had to a father.

Cooper was definitely crazy. Because with his team in the thick of an investigation, the last thing he needed was to spend each night agonizing over a woman who had every intention of heading right back to Columbia once Tate’s killer was either dead or behind bars.

He glanced at his phone, wondering how she was fairing in that rental Bellamy had arranged for her — if he should call and double check in case trouble had already followed them back — when a low rattle carried in from the living room. What sounded like someone trying to open his front door. Having Whiskey cock her head in that direction then stand, the hackles along her back already raised was all the proof Cooper needed that he hadn’t imagined that growl. What could have been an engine.

Whiskey moved in beside him as he snagged his Sig and headed for his bedroom door, listening for a few moments before cracking it open — scanning his surroundings. Deep shadows filled the room, only a hint of moonlight shining through the windows.

He took a step out, signaling for Whiskey to stay on his right as he cleared the hallway off to his left then side-stepped over to the couch. Crickets and frogs chirped in the distance as the haunting call of a nighthawk echoed through the air.

Cooper whistled, following Whiskey when she headed straight for the front door. She didn’t bark, waiting patiently while he cleared the kitchen then stopped off to one side of the room, chancing a quick peek out the top window. Not that he’d expected to see anyone, but wishful thinking…

After a short countdown, he had that door propped open — was sweeping the porch with his weapon as he darted out,Whiskey hugging his leg. He cleared the front yard, then headed for the driveway, checking his truck before turning.

A lone scuff cut through the chorus of chirps. Not loud. More the kind of muffled noise he expected someone with skills to make. And he knew, if he hadn’t been actively listening for it, he never would have heard it.

That had him laser-focused — moving with purpose around the corner of his cottage and down one side. Finding the gate closed, but not fully latched only spurred him on. Whiskey scented the air as Cooper eased the gate open, smiling when the hinges didn’t squeak.

Three quick steps and they were through, leaving the gate ajar to avoid any chance of it making a sound when they’d already lucked out once. Whiskey inched in front, pressing against his leg as she stared at the back corner a moment before a muffled scrape lit the air followed by a hushed curse.

Cooper checked behind him, then took off. Not quite running but not walking, either. Just fast enough he was confident whoever was on his lanai wouldn’t have a chance to hoof it to the rear fence before he was on them. Not with Whiskey backing him up.

They hit the corner moving in sync, his gun leading the way — Whiskey still hugging his leg. He paused long enough to get a bead on the tango’s location before popping out, keeping Whiskey contained. While he would have loved to have let the dog take lead, he wouldn’t chance an interaction until he knew what he was facing. If maybe his teammates, Russell “Rusty” Callahan and Ethan Foster, were playing a prank on him in an effort to work off some of their pent-up tension. All that adrenaline from the impromptu op to Columbia that had nowhere else to go because Bellamy and Octavia were still in trouble. Would undoubtedly be facing more threats.

A shadowed figured stood outside his bedroom window, what looked like a weapon holstered on their left side. Cooper shifted to get a better sight line, keeping Whiskey close, when the figure inhaled then spun, that weapon now aimed at his chest.

He held his ground, whistling to Whiskey when the perp cursed and lowered their gun, shuffling over until half their face was visible in the moonlight.

“Christ, Cooper, stand down. It’s just me.”

Cooper clenched his jaw, telling Whiskey to stay as he took a step forward, all the while scanning his surroundings. “Nova?”

“If you have to ask, then we have a bigger problem.”

He shook his head, lowering his weapon. “Damn. Do you know how close I came to firing? Or sending Whiskey over? What the hell are you doing out here?”

Nova shrugged, seeming oblivious to the fact he’d nearly shot her as she holstered her weapon then leaned against the wall, a sexy smile curving her lips. “I was seeing if you were asleep, yet.”

“By sneaking around my back yard at…” He checked his watch. “One A.M.? Do you have an aversion to simply knocking on the door?”

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