Page 11 of Double Take

“Listen.” Marshall glanced around. “I have a pretty good idea where you are. I’m advising you to quit while you’re still ahead.”

His CO could guess, but he couldn’t prove it. “There’s still sheep to shear.”

“If you compromise Hammond, you compromise Dark Ops.”

“Speaking on general principle, I’m aware of that.”

“Speaking to your specific situation, you’re fucking lucky I’m your CO.” He paused. “Don’t make me haul you in.”

Marshall’s revelation Faith had joined Cosmic Mates had been the impetus for his flight. He’d suffered unrequited love while Hammond was alive, but the prospect that she might remarry had been a hundred times worse.

“I understand more than you know, and I don’t foresee a good ending,” Marshall said.

Neither did he. A good ending could only involve Faith, which would never occur. He’d be fortunate to escape with just a broken heart. He didn’t trust Marshall or anyone in Dark Ops.

Why risk his limited freedom for a woman who would never love him? Who despised him? Was seeing her in the flesh worth the repercussions?

Yes, yes, it was. “The sheep aren’t going to shear themselves. I have to get back to work.” He closed the communication channel.

Chapter Six

“Mark might not be dead,” Faith said as soon as she got to work in the morning.

“What do you mean?” Amity drew her brows together in confusion.

“He might still be alive,” she repeated.

“Mark…your husband?”

“Do we know any other Marks?”

“What makes you think he’s alive?”

“He came to see me at the cottage last night.”

“Get out!” Amity exclaimed.

“Actually, that’s what I told him.” Faith’s lips quirked.

“How is that possible? That’s wonderful! Isn’t it? What happened? Where has he been all this time? Who got cremated, then?” Amity peppered her with questions. “Are you okay? Where is he now?”

Not so wonderful, and she wasn’t okay, but the cremation question had bedeviled her all night long. If not her husband, whose body had she seen at the morgue? How could she have mistaken a stranger for him? Besides, the funeral director had given her hisengravedwedding ring.

Could the crazy clone story be true?

Amity cocked her head. “Wait a minute. You saw him in person, but you said hemightbe alive. You’re not sure?”

She bit her lip. “It might have been his clone. He calls himself John Bragg.”

“Hisclone?”

“He’s a dead ringer.” Certainty the man had been her husband had eroded as the evening wore on and the particulars reeled through her mind. The body at the morgue. Thepersonalized wedding ring. The funeral. His five-year absence. Her cat’s reaction.

The idea of a body double seemed preposterous—except, it would explain a few things. “Rusty liked him. He liked Rusty.”

“So?”

“Mark wasn’t kind to animals, and they knew it. They avoided him.”

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