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Tactical Force
Elle James


Their search for an assassin makes her the next target. With a threat on the US President’s life it’s all-out war for former marine Jack Snow. But when he is tasked with protecting DC staff Anne Bellamy, his mission takes him undercover into Washington’s power circles. Can he protect his country and the woman who's become far more than just an asset to him?







Their search for an assassin makes her the next target.

Two attacks on DC staffer Anne Bellamy’s life are just the beginning of a terrorist threat from a group that aims to assassinate the US president. It’s all-out war for former elite Force Recon marine Jack Snow, who is tasked with keeping Anne alive. As his mission takes him undercover into Washington’s power circles, can he protect his country and the woman who’s become way more than just an asset to him?


ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or ellejames.com (http://ellejames.com)


Also by Elle James (#udbf45780-e7e6-57be-8b3c-afe1e4eaa2b7)

Marine Force Recon

Show of Force

Full Force

Driving Force

One Intrepid SEAL

Two Dauntless Hearts

Three Courageous Words

Four Relentless Days

Five Ways to Surrender

Six Minutes to Midnight

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Tactical Force

Elle James






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-0-008-90480-7

TACTICAL FORCE

© 2019 Mary Jernigan

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Note to Readers (#udbf45780-e7e6-57be-8b3c-afe1e4eaa2b7)


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I want to thank Delilah Devlin and my daughter,

Paige Yancey, for being there when I need some

serious help brainstorming.

And thank you to Denise Zaza, who has been with me

from the day she bought my first book for

Harlequin Intrigue.

A big thank-you to my readers, who continue to buy my

books. You make it possible for me to follow my dream

of being a full-time author. Thank you!


Contents

Cover (#u4a65ae78-f2fd-55ee-8aa0-06fddfbcfdb8)

Back Cover Text (#ud95b4440-fe42-52fc-b2fa-35a1b84952fc)

About the Author (#u3a58468f-587b-5f06-bf18-23b411291843)

Booklist (#u1cfa6f16-d8ae-5e54-99e8-544cfaa6b251)

Title Page (#u3ac4eb8f-b67c-5192-b221-66d15d7fa62f)

Copyright (#u7e2fc8e9-5ae2-541f-8da0-b561b2316295)

Note to Readers

Dedication (#uf6d6d38f-6f70-5d6e-8125-1ed908f8eb36)

Chapter One (#u22e3c5b7-822d-5df2-9558-3f04e683212f)

Chapter Two (#uf9dc08be-50ab-567d-b2a4-a208211c49c6)

Chapter Three (#udd89fdba-65a5-5613-8de0-f80c13da5d8b)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#udbf45780-e7e6-57be-8b3c-afe1e4eaa2b7)


Anne Bellamy finished editing the document her boss had given her just before he’d left for the gym at exactly four thirty that afternoon. She’d stayed two hours past the end of the usual day in the office of the national security advisor located in the West Wing of the White House to clean up, fact-check and finish the job. The last one out of the office, she gathered her purse and checked her cell phone.

A text message had come through during the time she’d logged off her computer and collected her purse.

Unknown caller.

Curious as to who had her phone number and was texting her so late in the evening, Anne brought up her text messages and frowned down at the cryptic message.

TRINITY LIVES.

Her heart skipped several beats before settling into the swift pace of one who was running for her life. Anne hadn’t heard anything about Trinity since the man who’d recruited her to spy on government officials had been murdered.

Her gut clenched and she felt like she might throw up as she returned the text.

Sorry, you must have the wrong number.

She waited, her breath caught in her throat, her pulse hammering against her eardrums.

John Halverson died because he’d got too close.

Anne gasped and glanced around her office, wondering if anyone was watching or could see the texts she was receiving. Wondering if she was doing the right thing, or revealing herself to the wrong persons, she responded to the text again.

Halverson is dead.

Again, Anne waited, afraid of the response, but afraid not to reply.

Halverson was on the right track.

Anne’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. John Halverson had been a good man, with a heart as big as they came. He cared about his country and what was happening to tear it apart.

When he’d come to her, he’d caught her at a vulnerable point in her career. A point at which she’d considered leaving the political nightmare to take a position as a secretary or receptionist for a doctor’s office. Anything to get out of the demoralizing, disheartening work she did with men and women who didn’t always have the best interests of the nation at heart, whose careers and post-government jobs in media and lobbying meant more to them than the country’s future.

Anne had kept her head down and her thoughts to herself since Halverson’s death, afraid that whoever had murdered the man would come after her. If they knew her association with Halverson, and her involvement in uncovering the graft and corruption inside the office of the National Security Council, she’d be the next target.

She knew Trinity had a firm foothold in the government, and they weren’t afraid to pounce on those who dared to cross them or squeal on their activities. The problem was that they were so well entrenched you couldn’t tell a friend from a terrorist.

She stared at her phone screen. Was someone trying to warn her? Or flush her out into the open?

Either way, someone knew her secret. She could be the next casualty, courtesy of Trinity.

Anne quickly keyed in her message, not feeling terribly confident she was putting an end to the communication.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.

A moment later came a response.

Can’t. They’re planning an attack. A lot of people could be hurt. I need your help to stop it.

Anne pressed a hand to her breast to still her pounding heart.

No. No. No.

She wasn’t the kind of person who could easily lie or pretend. Anne had always been an open book. Anyone could read any emotion on her face. She’d argued this with Halverson, but he’d insisted she could help him. She was in a strategic position, one that touched on a number of key players in politics.

If Trinity had sleeper cells in those positions, she could spot them before anyone else. Theoretically.

Anne hated that Halverson had paid the ultimate price. At the same time, she no longer had to report things she saw or heard, which meant she didn’t have to worry that she was being watched or targeted.

Until now. Until the text warning her about Trinity.

Shooting a glance around the office and the four corners of the room, she wondered if anyone had a webcam recording her every move. She’d gotten good at discovering small audio and video recording devices stashed in telephone receiver units, lights, ceiling tiles, potted plants and office furniture.

She made a habit of scouring the room at least once a day. She’d found a small audio device once, early on, when Halverson had still been alive. They’d met at a bookstore in Arlington, where Halverson had identified the device and told her about others she should be on the lookout for.

Since Halverson’s death, she’d continued looking over her shoulder. As time passed, she’d become lax. No one appeared to be following her or watching her.

How wrong had she been? And why had this person come to her now?

Instead of answering the previous text, she shoved her phone into her purse and left her office. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her breathing came in shallow pants. She was overreacting. That was all there was to it.

But who had given out her phone number? And how did they know she’d once been involved with Halverson? She’d kept that part of her life as clandestine as possible. Trying to ensure her trysts with Halverson were in as out-of-the-way a venue as she could, she’d usually met him in a public library, where running into people she worked with was highly unlikely. It wasn’t a bar, and it wasn’t a coffee shop. She’d thought it was the best cover of all. How many terrorists did she know who made good use of a public library?

She’d never been to Halverson’s mansion, and she’d always worn a disguise when she’d met with him at the library, never driving her own car, but taking public transportation.

Once out in the open, she inhaled fresh night air. Anne had been so busy working she hadn’t realized it had rained earlier. The ground was still wet, and light reflected off the standing puddles. Her phone vibrated inside her purse, causing her heart to skip a beat. She ignored it and strode toward the Metro station, wishing she’d left while there was still some daylight chasing away the shadows. Though night had settled in, people still moved around the city. Men and women dressed in business suits, dress shoes and trench coats hurried home from office buildings, after a long day at work. Still, the number of people headed toward the train station was significantly less than during the regular rush hours.

Anne wished she’d worn her tennis shoes to work rather than the tight, medium-heeled pumps that had been pinching her feet since five o’clock that morning.

Again, the phone vibrated in her purse. She could feel the movement where her purse rested against her side. Ignoring the insistent pulsation, she moved quickly, determined to make the next Metro train headed toward Arlington, where she lived in a modest apartment.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Anne shot a glance over her shoulder. A man wearing a black jacket and jeans strode behind her, less than half a block away. He also wore a dark baseball cap, shading his face and eyes from the streetlights he passed beneath.

Alarm bells rang in Anne’s head. She increased her pace.

The man behind her sped up, as well.

Still a couple of blocks away from the train station, Anne realized the streets had become deserted. The people she’d passed earlier must have hopped into taxis or found their cars in the paid parking lots.

Alone and on the street with a man following too closely behind her, Anne couldn’t move fast enough. Then she remembered there was a restaurant at the corner of the next street, which now became her new, short-range goal. Clutching her purse to her side, she sprinted for the door, her feet moving as fast as they could in heels. She didn’t slow to see if the man following her was running, too. She only knew she had to get to that restaurant.

When she reached the restaurant door, she almost sobbed. It was closed—the lights were turned out and no one moved inside.

A quick glance behind her assured her the man had kept up. Whether he’d had to run or not wasn’t important. He was still there. Striding toward her, his feet eating the distance between them.

Anne’s gaze darted around her, searching for a pub, a convenience store or pharmacy. Anything that stayed open late and had people inside. The block consisted of still more office buildings, closed for the night. She had no choice but to continue on toward the train station and pray she reached it before him.

Starting out with a purposeful stride, she walked fast toward the Metro stop, watching the reflections in the glass windows of the office buildings beside her for the image of the man tailing her. When he appeared in the reflection, Anne shot forward, running all out.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her pulse pounded so hard against her eardrums she could barely hear. Rounding a corner, she spied a pub, its sign lit up over the door. With the Metro station still too far to make, she set her sights on the pub and raced toward the door.

Just as she was reaching out, a hand descended on her shoulder and jerked her back. Oh, sweet heaven, he’d caught her. She braced herself for the fight of her life.

At that moment, the pub door opened, and a group of men exited, laughing and talking to each other.

The hand on Anne’s shoulder fell away.

With renewed hope, Anne dove through the men and into the pub. Once inside, she went straight to the bar.

“What can I get you?”

“Someone tried to grab me outside the bar,” she gushed, her breathing catching in her throat.

The bartender leaned toward her. “You okay?” He glanced past her to a large man standing near the exit.

The man, probably a bouncer, came forward.

“This lady said a man tried to grab her,” the bartender told him.

“What was he wearing?” the bouncer asked.

She shook her head. “Dark clothes and a baseball cap, I think. I don’t know. I was running too fast to notice.”

The bouncer nodded and left the pub. He was back a minute later, shaking his head. “No one out there fitting your description. In fact, there was no one out there at all. I walked a block in both directions.”

Anne let go of the breath she’d been holding. Even if the man wasn’t within a block either direction, he might be lying in wait for her to continue her progress to the Metro stop. Anne couldn’t bring herself to step outside the pub.

“We’re closing early tonight for kitchen renovations, lady. You got about thirty minutes until we lock up. Is there anyone I could call for you?” the bartender asked, his expression worried.

Anne shook her head. She didn’t have any close friends. She had acquaintances from work. That was it. They had their own lives and she had her solitary existence. Then she remembered John Halverson giving her his phone number and telling her if ever she needed anything, she should call that number.

But he was dead.

Would anyone answer at the number? Did he still have a staff of people working for the same things he had?

Anne pulled her phone out of her purse and stared down at the icon for her text messages. She didn’t want to look at them. Everything had been fine until she’d started receiving the texts.

She pulled up her contacts list and dialed the number Halverson had given her, not knowing if anyone would actually answer.

The line rang several times.

Anne was about to give up when the ringing stopped and a woman answered, “Hello?”

Not knowing what to say, Anne blurted, “I know John Halverson is dead, but I need help. He gave me this number and said to call if I ever needed anything. Please tell me you can help.” She stopped and waited for a response, her heart thudding, her gut clenched.

“This is John’s wife. Are you in a safe place?”

Anne nodded and then said, “For the moment, but this place closes in thirty minutes. I was being followed and I’m afraid to leave.”

“Stay there. I’ll have someone come to collect you.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“You’re a human being in need of assistance. I don’t care who you are. I’ll have someone see you to your home or the police station. Wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you,” Anne said, sagging with relief. “I’m sorry for what happened to your husband. He was a good man.”

“Me, too. If he gave you his number, he would have wanted me to help you. Rest assured, I’m sending someone. Give me the address.”

Anne had to ask the bartender for the address. Once she’d relayed it to Mrs. Halverson, the widow insisted she stay on the phone until the person she sent arrived.

“That won’t be necessary. As long as I can remain in the pub, I’ll be all right,” Anne said.

“Then I’ll get right on it,” Mrs. Halverson said. “I’ll text with an expected time of arrival as soon as I have one.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Halverson.”

“Don’t call me Mrs. Halverson. I go by Charlie,” the woman said.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Anne said, correcting herself, and rang off.

A moment later, a text came across.

Jack will be there in twenty minutes.

That was a text Anne could live with, though she wondered who Jack was, what he looked like and what he’d be driving.






JACK SNOW HAD left his apartment in Arlington an hour earlier, too wound up to sit in front of a television and watch mindless shows or even more mindless news reports.

Much too jittery to find a bar and drink away the anxious feeling he got all too often since returning from deployment and exiting his Marine Force Recon unit, he climbed onto his Harley and went for a ride around the cities. He ended up in the Capitol Hill area near the war memorials. After the sun set, the crowds thinned and the lights illuminating the Lincoln Memorial made the white marble stand out against the backdrop of the black, starless night.

He’d ridden to the Korean War Memorial, parked his bike and stood near the nineteen steel statues of soldiers in full combat gear and waterproof ponchos. They appeared as ghosts, emerging from the shadows. Haunting.

They reminded him of so many operations he and his team had conducted at night, moving silently across rough terrain, like the ghosts of the men the statues had been modeled after.

His heart pinched tightly in his chest. It was as if he were looking at the friends he’d lost in battle, the men he’d carried out only to send home in body bags.

No matter how long he’d been separated from active duty, the images of his friends never faded. Often they appeared in his dreams, waking him from a dead sleep in cold sweat as he relived the operations that had claimed their lives.

He’d get out of his bed, dress and go for a ride on his motorcycle in the stillness of night, letting the wind in his face blow the cobwebs from his memories.

Tonight was different. He’d dreaded even going to bed. Tonight was the anniversary of the death of his high school sweetheart. Yet another reason to lose sleep.

He’d met Kylie in the eighth grade. They’d been together throughout high school and had big plans to go to the same college after graduation.

Though Jack had made it to graduation, Kylie had not. The weekend before the big event, they’d gone to the local mall. Kylie wanted a special dress to wear beneath her cap and gown. Jack had gone with her to help her choose.

That day, a man who’d been dumped by his fiancée days before their wedding had entered the mall, bearing an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle with a thirty-round magazine locked and loaded. Tucked into his jacket pocket was a .45 caliber pistol with a ten-round magazine. He’d come to take out his anger on his ex-fiancée working in a department store. But he didn’t end there. Once he started firing, he didn’t stop until he ran out of bullets in the rifle’s magazine.

Jack and Kylie had just left an upscale dress shop when the bullets started flying. Before they could duck back into the shop or even drop to the ground, the gunman turned the barrel of his AR-15 on them, firing indiscriminatingly.

Jack grabbed Kylie and shoved her to the ground, covering her body with his.

When the first volley of bullets slowed to silence, he looked up.

The rifleman fumbled with another magazine for the AR-15, dropped it and bent to retrieve it.

Jack didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He lunged to his feet and charged the man before he could reload, hitting him with his best linebacker tackle, knocking him to the ground. The rifle flew from the gunman’s hands, skittering to a stop several yards away.

The man tried to reach for the handgun in his jacket pocket but couldn’t get to it with Jack lying on top of him, pinning him to the hard tile floor.

The mall security cop had dashed to the scene but hadn’t wanted Jack to move for fear the shooter would manage to get to his feet and regain control of his weapon.

The police had arrived shortly after, taking over from Jack.

That was when he’d turned to find Kylie still lying where he’d left her, facedown and unmoving.

She’d taken a bullet straight to her heart and died instantly.

Jack had been devastated.

Her death was the main reason he’d chosen to join the Marines rather than go on to college like many of his classmates. He needed the physical challenge to burn away his anger and the feeling he should have gotten her to safety sooner. He should have done more to save her.

Those deployment nightmares, combined with the traumatic one from his school days, had kept him moving, afraid to stand still for a moment. If he did, the memories overwhelmed him.

He stared at the shadowy figures of the steel soldiers. They were so lifelike Jack felt as if he could fall in step with them and complete the mission.

His heartbeat quickened. As he took a step forward, a vibration against his side brought him back to reality, making him stop.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. The name on the screen read Declan O’Neill.

Jack didn’t hesitate. He pressed the talk button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

“Dude, where are you?” Declan asked, his tone crisp.

“Downtown DC near the war memorials. What’s up?”

“Got a mission for you.”

“Give it to me.” He needed action. Anything to take his mind off the anniversary of Kylie’s death and the loss of his friends in battle. Declan’s call was a lifeline thrown to him in troubled waters. A reminder that he was still among the living, and he had a team of friends to work with.

Declan gave him the address of a pub not far from where he was. “There’s a female there who’s afraid to leave. Someone tried to grab her on her way to the Metro station.”

“What does she look like?” Jack asked.

“Long, straight black hair, blue eyes. Wearing a business suit. Tell her Mrs. Halverson sent you.”

“Got it. I can be there in less than ten minutes.”

“Make it five. The pub is closing. Let us know when you get her to safety.” Declan ended the call.

Slipping his helmet over his head, Jack left the steel soldiers to their mission, mounted his motorcycle and commenced with his own mission. He’d hoped for something more than escorting a damsel in distress home for the evening, but at least it gave him a purpose and something else to think about besides Kylie and dead comrades.

Ignoring the speed limit signs and only slowing for the occasional light, Jack made it to the pub in four minutes. A few men straggled through the door, laughing and shaking hands.

Jack scanned the surrounding area for anyone lurking in the shadows, waiting for a lone woman to step out of the pub and into his path. When he didn’t see anyone or any movement in the shadows, he parked his bike on the curb and entered the pub, passing by a large man standing near the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” someone called out from the bar.

“I’m not here for a drink. I’m here to pick up a lady.”

The bartender snorted. “Sorry, we’re closed for that, too. Always. Unless the lady wishes to be picked up.” The man chuckled at his own humor.

A black-haired woman in a dark blazer and skirt slid off a bar stool and faced Jack. Her blue eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She stood stiff, and silently maintained her distance, looking as if she’d bolt if he made a move toward her.

This had to be the woman he’d been tasked to collect. “Mrs. Halverson sent me,” Jack said.

The woman drew in a deep breath and the stiffness seemed to melt from her frame. “Oh, thank God.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, lady,” the bartender called out. “You gonna be okay?”

She turned toward the man. “I think so.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

Before they left the building, the woman stopped and frowned. “I guess I should know your full name.”

With a half smile, Jack held out his hand. “Jack Snow.”

She took his hand in her smaller, softer one and said quietly, “Anne Bellamy.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”

She handed him her cell phone with an image of a map with the directions painted in a bright blue line. “Not here. Not now. I just want to go home. That map will get you there.”

He shrugged. “Have it your way. My ride is outside.”

When she started to go through the door, he placed his hand on her arm. “Me first.”

Anne nodded and let him go through the door ahead of her.

He stopped on the other side and glanced in both directions, taking his time to be thorough in his perusal of the buildings, alleys and every shadow. When he was fairly certain they were alone, he held out his hand.

Anne placed hers in his and let him guide her to the curb, where his motorcycle was parked.

The big guy who’d been lurking near the entrance followed them outside.

Jack shot a narrowed glance his way as he fitted Anne’s cell phone into a holder on his handle bar. “Is this the guy who tried to grab you?”

“No. That’s the bar’s bouncer. He’s just making sure we aren’t attacked,” Anne said. She faced the motorcycle, a frown drawing her eyebrows together. “This is your ride?” The frown deepened. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

“Well, tonight must be your lucky night. Unless you want to wait another thirty minutes to an hour for one of my buddies to come get you, you’ll have to take your chances.” He swung his leg over the bike and patted the cushioned seat behind him. “Don’t wait too long. You’ll only be giving your attacker the opportunity to make another attempt to grab you.”




Chapter Two (#udbf45780-e7e6-57be-8b3c-afe1e4eaa2b7)


“How…” Anne tried to swing her leg over the bike, but her A-line skirt hampered her maneuver. Finally, she pulled the skirt up high enough to allow her to mount the cycle and settle behind him. “No judging,” she mumbled.

He grinned. “Great legs. Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Jack handed her a helmet and helped her to adjust the strap beneath her chin. Then he pulled his own helmet over his head and cinched the strap. “Hold on around my waist.”

She placed her hands on his hips, barely squeezing, amazed at how firm they were. A rush of awareness rocked through her.

“Seriously?” He took her hands and pulled them around his middle. “Now hold on tight. This beast has a powerful takeoff.”

As if to prove his point, Jack cranked the engine and twisted the throttle. The motorcycle sprang forward.

Anne clenched her arms around him in a death grip so tight she was certain Jack could barely breathe. He slowed the bike a little and drove down the street at a more sedate pace.

He looked back with a grin.

Most likely, he was happy to have startled her.

The grin disappeared and a frown replaced it in that split second he’d turned to look back at her.

Anne swiveled her helmet-heavy head and took note of headlights glaring at them. A dark sedan raced toward them at a high speed. Her heart leaped into her throat. “Go!” she yelled.

“Hold on!” Jack shouted. He made an abrupt turn, leaning hard into it.

Anne leaned the opposite direction.

Jack seemed to struggle with navigating the corner and he slowed.

“Lean with me!” he yelled, twisting his right hand on the handle. The motorcycle shot forward, putting distance between them and the vehicle turning at the corner behind them.

If Anne had any doubts they were being followed, she was certain now that the car behind them wasn’t on a sightseeing trip in the night.

With the bike being more agile and maneuverable, Jack managed to weave in and out of streets, down back alleys and eventually onto the main road leading out of the city.

Anne held on, leaning when Jack leaned and in the same direction as him, making turns easier.

When she was sure they’d lost the dark sedan. Anne released a sigh of relief.

Jack settled into a smooth drive, following the altered directions on Anne’s cell phone.

When they were only a block away from her apartment complex, he slowed almost to a crawl.

“Third building on the left,” Anne called out as he neared the parking lot.

He drove to the location and brought the bike to a rolling stop.

Anne clambered off, her legs shaking. She smoothed her skirt down and hiked her purse strap onto her shoulder. “Thank you for getting me to my apartment. Tell Mrs. Halv—”

Jack adjusted the kickstand and dismounted.

“Where are you going?” Anne asked, her brow furrowing.

“To see you to your door and make sure you get inside safely.” He cupped her elbow and walked her toward the entrance. “And to find out what this is all about.”

She ground to a halt and pulled her elbow free. “I’ll be fine.” Already hyperaware of the man after holding him around his middle for the past thirty minutes, Anne just wanted to be free of him, and settle in with a cup of her favorite tea to soothe her fractured nerves. “Be sure to thank Mrs. Halverson for me.”

“She likes to be called Charlie.”

“Thank Charlie for me,” Anne said and turned to walk into the building.

Jack’s footsteps sounded behind her.

Anne spun to face him. “Seriously, you don’t have to go up with me. I can manage on my own now.”

“I’ve been given a mission to see you safely somewhere.” He shrugged. “Although the somewhere was vague.” He gave a nod toward the building. “I’ll assume it was to your apartment.”

“I’m here. You can go.” She waved her hand as if shooing a pesky animal or child away.

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re safely inside your apartment. Remember, we were followed not all that long ago.”

“Yes, but you lost the trailing vehicle quite efficiently, though you scared the bejesus out of me in the process.” She tipped her head toward his motorcycle. “And you quite convinced me that I don’t like riding motorcycles. But thank you for delivering me to my apartment in one piece.” With that parting comment, she turned and strode toward the door.

Again, Jack followed.

Anne gritted her teeth and kept going. If he wanted to follow her all the way up to her apartment…fine. As long as he didn’t cup her elbow, sending crazy bursts of electrical current all the way through her body.

At her door, she fumbled for the key in her purse. Finally wrapping her fingers around it, she started to fit it into the doorknob.

Before she could, Jack grabbed her arm again.

And like before, that jolt of electricity traveled up her arm and down to her belly. She started to turn to tell him not to touch her when he gently pushed her to one side of the door and pressed a finger to his lips. He wasn’t even looking at her, but at her door.

Then he released her arm and gave her door a slight nudge.

It opened without resistance. The doorjamb appeared splintered, as if someone had forced his way into her apartment.

Her heart thudding against her chest, Anne started to step inside.

Jack put out his arm and shook his head, mouthing the word Stay.

Too shocked to argue, Anne remained rooted to the floor outside her apartment, while Jack slipped inside.

She counted to ten, her stomach knotting and her breathing unsteady. How long could it take to look for bad guys? Just when Anne had decided she couldn’t wait another moment, Jack appeared in the entryway, his mouth set in a grim line. He opened the door wider, flipped the light switch on and stood back. “I take it you didn’t leave your place like this when you left for work this morning?”

Anne stepped across the threshold and gasped. “What the h—?”

Her home looked like something from a warzone. The sofa had been flipped on its back. The seat cushions had been flung across the room after they’d been ripped open and the stuffing pulled out. The artwork she’d painstakingly chosen and positioned on the walls had been slashed or painted over with a garish red spray paint.

Every drawer in her kitchen had been dumped on the floor. Knives stuck into the walls as if they’d been thrown one by one.

The photo frame containing a picture of Anne, her mother and her father had been destroyed, the picture pulled out and torn up into tiny pieces.

Tears welled in Anne’s eyes as she continued through the little apartment to the bedroom. How much worse could it get? They’d destroyed practically everything she owned.

It got worse. The bedroom, like the living room, was a shambles, with the mattress dragged off the bed frame, a long gash drawn down the center. The pillows were in tatters, the filling scattered across the room. But the message on the wall was what made Anne press a hand to her chest and reel from shock.

Words written in bright red spray paint covered the wall over her headboard.

CONSIDER THIS A WARNING

Beside the words was a symbol Anne was all too familiar with. The crisscrossing Trinity symbol that might mean nothing to most but struck fear in the hearts of those familiar with the organization’s history.

Anne staggered backward until her back hit the wall. Then she slid down and gathered her knees to her chest. “This. Can’t. Be. Happening.”

Jack dropped to his haunches beside her and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, but it is. And you can’t stay here. They know where you live and might come back.”

She shook her head, her eyes glazed, her hands shaking in his. “I haven’t done anything. Why would they come after me?”

“I don’t know.” Jack gently pulled her to her feet. “Grab the clothes you can, or better yet, leave it all here and buy new.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed her body against his. “The main thing is to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

She shook her head. “But this is all I own… My things.”

“They’re just things. At least you weren’t here when they came in.” He flung open the closet door.

Whoever had trashed her apartment had used the same red paint, spraying a thick swath across the clothes hanging in her closet.

Jack grabbed a gym bag from the floor. “They didn’t get this,” he said.

He unzipped it and held it open. “Find whatever you can that’s undamaged, enough to get you by, and let’s get the heck out of here. I don’t want them to come back while we’re here.”

Anne couldn’t seem to make her feet move. A crippling lethargy settled over her, making it impossible to think or motivate herself.

Jack dropped the bag and gripped her arms. “Anne.” He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “These are just things. We have to leave. I need you to be with me.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Now.”

Though she knew she needed to comply, she just couldn’t.

“I’m not getting through to you,” Jack said with a sigh. “Maybe this will work.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers in a hard, persistent kiss.

The shock of it forced Anne’s mind off the destruction and centered it on the feel of his lips against hers. She raised her hands to wrap around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. As if by kissing him, she could block out all the horror of her apartment.

When he finally set her away, he stared down into her eyes. “Are you with me now?” he asked, his tone deep, his voice gravelly.

She nodded. “I am.”

He released her arms. “Then pack. You have one minute to get all the undamaged items you can into that bag. If it’s nothing, so be it. You’re coming with me.” He left her alone in the room.

Anne shook out of her stunned haze and scrambled through her clothing, searching for panties, bras, jeans, shirts and skirts she could salvage from the items the intruders had permanently destroyed. She changed out of her skirt and heels into a pair of jeans and loafers.

She jammed what few undamaged things she could find into the gym bag and hurried to find Jack, wanting to be with him at all times. Though he was a stranger, he made her feel safer than she’d felt alone.

He stood by the open door of her apartment, looking up and down the hallway. When he heard her behind him, he shot a glance over his shoulder. “Ready?”

Anne nodded, closed the door and handed him her cell phone. “I think this has to do with the text messages I received before I left work this evening.”

Jack took the phone from her and read through the messages, his face growing tighter, a muscle ticking in his jaw by the time he finished. “I take it you didn’t read the last two messages.”

Anne frowned. “I had other things on my mind, and I’d hoped by ignoring the texts, whoever had sent them would just go away.” She snorted. “Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

“Read them.” Jack pushed the cell phone beneath her nose.

Anne focused on the words.

Destroy your phone.

They will track you with it.

“If whoever did this to your apartment can track you using your phone, you need to ditch that phone. The sooner the better.” Jack pulled his own cell phone from his back pocket and snapped pictures of the messages on Anne’s cell phone. He glanced up at her. “Sorry, but it must be done.” He dismantled the phone, pulled the SIM card from it, dropped the card into the kitchen’s garbage disposal and ground it into oblivion. Then he placed the phone on the floor and stomped his heel into the screen.

“I need to get pictures of the message on the wall. Wait here,” he said and disappeared into her bedroom. When he returned to the living room, he sent the pictures to someone and placed a call.

“We’re headed your way. We could be bringing a tail… Good. See you in a few.”

“What was that all about?” Anne asked.

“I sent the images to my boss. We’ve got a couple of computer wizzes who can do some poking around to see what they can find.” He took the gym bag from her hand and led the way down the stairs toward the parking lot. He made her wait in the stairwell until he was certain the parking lot was safe.

Jack strapped the bag onto the back of the bike and went back to collect Anne. Slipping an arm around her, he shielded her body with his and walked her to the motorcycle.

Once they’d both mounted the bike, Anne leaned over Jack’s shoulder. “Are you taking me to a hotel? I have nowhere else to go,” she said, her heart flipping in her chest and the tears rushing to fill her eyes. She couldn’t go to a friend’s house. Not with Trinity looking for her.

Jack shook his head. “We’re going to Charlie’s.”

Anne wondered whether everything would have gone on as usual if she’d ignored the first text message. Had she set the course of events by responding? And now that her phone was destroyed, the mysterious texter wouldn’t have a way to contact her. Somehow, that didn’t give her any sense of relief. Quite the opposite.






JACK DROVE OUT the other end of the apartment complex, choosing a circuitous route to Charlie’s estate.

He kept an eye on the small rearview mirror mounted on his handlebar, searching for headlights and praying he didn’t find any.

Avoiding the main roads, he wove his way through suburbs and backroads until he finally found himself on the road to the Halverson estate.

If anything was going to happen, it would happen here. It stood to reason that if they had hacked into her phone and knew she’d received messages from someone trying to stop Trinity, they would know she’d place a call to Charlie Halverson.

Since a prior attempt to break into the estate, Charlie had beefed up security and built a stronger wall to keep people out and protect those on the inside. That would be the best place to take Anne.

Getting there unscathed was the plan.

Someone else had other plans for them.

Jack turned onto the quiet country highway leading to the Halverson estate. With eight miles of curvy roads ahead, he couldn’t let his guard down for a moment.

As he rounded a sharp bend in the road, a delivery truck darted out of a side road and stopped in the middle of the road, effectively blocking both lanes of traffic.

Warning bells went off in Jack’s head. “Hang on,” he called out.

Instead of slowing, Jack sped up, aiming straight for the truck.

As he neared, he noted men climbing out of the cab, AR-15s in their hands.

Damn. They’d brought serious weapons to the party.

He swerved at the last moment, taking the motorcycle off the road and down into the shallow ditch, praying Anne could hold on long enough to make it out on the other side.

Her arms tightened around him as they bumped over the rough terrain. At one point he thought the bike might turn over, and then it would be all over for them. Somehow, he managed to right the front tire, gunned the accelerator and sent them popping up over the shoulder and back onto the road. A couple sets of headlights headed toward him, but there was no going back.

Jack powered forward, ready to take to the ditches again if necessary.

The trucks remained on the correct side of the road. As they approached, they slowed.

Jack’s hand squeezed tighter on the throttle, preparing to twist it to make the bike go faster.

Then he saw that the lead truck was Declan’s black four-wheel drive and the one following belonged to Mack Balkman. Declan passed him and turned his truck sideways, blocking one lane of the rural road, using the big vehicle as a shield to protect the two people on the motorcycle.

Mack did the same, blocking the other lane.

Jack noted there was a passenger in each vehicle. Probably Gus Walsh and Frank “Mustang” Ford. Cole was probably helping Charlie’s computer guy, Jonah Spradlin, look into the texts from Anne’s phone history.

A guard stood at the electric gate to the Halverson estate, armed with his own AR-15 rifle and a powerful spotlight.

When Jack rode up to the closed gate, the guard shined the light into his face.

“It’s me,” Jack said. “Jack Snow. And I have Anne Bellamy with me.”

The guard shifted the light to the woman on the back of the motorcycle. A moment later, the gate opened and Jack drove through.

He’d never been quite so content to drive the winding road to the sprawling house at the end, knowing his team had his back, and the fence, gate and guards would see to their safety.

As he pulled up to a stop in front of the massive entrance, the door opened and Cole McCastlain emerged. Charlie Halverson stepped out behind him, followed by her assistant, Grace Lawrence, and her butler, Roger Arnold.

“I understand you’ve had a little excitement tonight.” Cole grinned and held out a hand to help Anne from the back of the motorcycle.

She nodded and half fell against Cole. “Sorry, I’m a little wobbly after going cross-country on the back of Mr. Snow’s motorcycle.”

Cole chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I’m always a little wobbly after riding a motorcycle. You have to ride often to build up the muscles needed to be comfortable on one.”

“Good to know,” Anne said. “Not that I plan on riding one ever again, if I can help it.”

“Oh, honey,” Grace said, moving forward with a smile. “We never say never around here.” She held out her hand. “I’m Grace Lawrence, Charlie’s assistant.” She turned to the older woman. “This is Charlie Halverson. John Halverson’s widow.”

“Mrs. Halverson, words are not enough to thank you for coming to my rescue. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

“Please, call me Charlie. Mrs. Halverson was my husband’s mother.” She smiled and took both of Anne’s hands in hers. “I’m glad Jack could help. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re safe now. Please, come inside.”

Anne glanced back at Jack. “Thank you.”

He nodded, flipped the kickstand down on his bike and joined Cole on the stairs.

Charlie led Anne and Grace into the house.

Arnold joined Cole and Jack. “Declan and the others are on their way in. They sustained some gunfire.”

“Are they okay?” Jack asked.

The butler nodded. “There was some damage to their vehicles, but they’re fine.”

Jack shook his head. If they’d been a little slower on the motorcycle, they would have taken those bullets. Anne had been on the back of the bike. She’d have been hit first. His heart raced, and he broke out in a sweat. Anne could have died. Just like Kylie. He’d have to rethink his motorcycle if he was tasked to protect Ms. Bellamy.

With that thought came another. Did he want to protect the woman? His history with women went deeper and more tragic than with Kylie. He’d lost his mother to cancer when he was only twelve. And just when he thought he was getting over Kylie and found someone else to love, Jennifer, the nurse deployed to the same base as he was in Afghanistan, had been killed when her vehicle rolled over an IED.

No. He was bad luck to the women in his life.

Women he loved. He could protect Anne Bellamy as long as he didn’t make the mistake of jinxing her by falling in love with her. The right thing to do would be to let someone else take over the woman’s protection. After saving her from being run down in DC and being shot at on the road to the Halverson estate, he felt he had a vested interest in her well-being.

He couldn’t get ahead of himself. If Anne stayed at the Halverson estate, she wouldn’t need a personal protector. Jack wouldn’t have to worry about her safety or jinxing her.

“What’s wrong?” Cole asked him.

“Why do you ask?”

Cole shrugged. “You were frowning.”

Jack shook his head, clearing his rampant thoughts. “I was thinking about the mess they made of her apartment and the message on the wall,” he lied. Now that he did think about it, he wondered who had put it there and why they thought she was a problem.

“Halverson must have been onto something big with Trinity for them to target him for assassination.”

“If they knew about Ms. Bellamy all along, why did they wait until now to go after her?”

“I assume it has to do with the person who texted her,” Cole said. “Using the phone number Anne gave Snow, Jonah hacked into the phone system and is going through her call and text history as we speak. We should go to the war room and see if he’s found anything.”

Jack followed Cole through the house and into Halverson’s study, where the trapdoor was hidden. It led into a basement painted white and set up with a conference room and a computer room with an array of monitors, CPUs and keyboards lining the walls.

Jonah Spradlin, Charlie Halverson’s young computer guru, sat at a keyboard, looking up at a setup of six monitors. His fingers flew across the keys, then he’d pause and study the screen. He repeated the process several times, shaking his head, his lips pressing together each time.

“Find anything?” Cole asked, taking the seat beside Jonah. Cole pressed several keys on the keyboard in front of him and brought up a screen.

“I traced the call back to a burner phone purchased at a store in Arlington,” Jonah said. “I hacked into their computer system, but the name the phone was registered to was Linda Radcliff, a woman who died five years ago.”

“Did they have video surveillance at the store?”

“Yes, but I haven’t hacked into that system yet. I’m working on it.”

“If the phone was registered to a Linda, the person had to be female,” Cole surmised. “Surely, the clerk or store owner would have denied the sale if the ID didn’t match the person presenting it.”

“So, we’re looking for a female texter.” Jack paced the length of the room and back. “What will that buy us? There are hundreds of thousands of females in this area. We have to narrow it down a little more than that.”

“We’re working on it. We don’t have a lot to go on and now your lady doesn’t have a phone for our mystery texter to send messages to.”

“She figured out Ms. Bellamy was associated with John Halverson,” Jack pointed out. “She’s smart. She’ll come up with a way to communicate with Ms. Bellamy again.”

Cole glanced up. “What’s your girl’s plan from here?”

Jack frowned. “She’s not my girl. And I have no idea. I just got her here.”

“I’m going to work tomorrow, as usual.” A female voice sounded behind them.

Anne descended the steps into the war room, followed by Grace and Charlie.

Jack faced her, his feet spread, his arms crossing over his chest. “The hell you are.”

Anne’s eyebrows rose up her forehead. “I have a big meeting to prepare for on Friday. I need to be in my office every day this week. Besides, the person who texted me wanted me to help stop Trinity from doing something. I can’t help if I’m locked behind the walls of this estate.”

“You’re a walking target,” Jack said. “It would be suicide for you to step past the gates.”

Anne lifted her chin. “I can’t hide away forever.”

“You can until we figure out what’s going on,” Jack insisted.

“We can figure it out a lot faster from inside the government offices. I assume since the person texted me, I’m probably in a position to find out something. Otherwise, why would he ask me for help?”

“She,” Jack corrected.

Anne cocked an eyebrow. “See? You already know more than when we started.”

“Okay, she’s female—” Jack threw his hand in the air “—so is half the population of the Metro area.”

“I’m going to work tomorrow,” Anne said. “I just need a ride in to a Metro station, and I’ll take it from there.”

“You can’t go alone,” Charlie said.

“Charlie’s right,” Jack said. “It’s too dangerous. You’re not equipped to handle armed assassins.”

Again, Anne stared at him with a cocked eyebrow. “And you are?”

“More so than you,” Jack shot back.

Charlie clapped her hands together. “Then it’s settled.”

Jack glared at the woman whose money funded Declan’s Defenders. “What’s settled?”

“The fact that Anne can’t go to work alone.” Charlie smiled as if everything was perfectly obvious. “You’ll go with her.”




Chapter Three (#udbf45780-e7e6-57be-8b3c-afe1e4eaa2b7)


Anne frowned. “Jack can’t go with me. You have to have a badge and a security clearance to get inside the office where I work.”

Charlie nodded toward her computer guy. “Jonah, can you make it happen before morning?”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He held out his hand to Anne. “Could I borrow your badge?”

Anne shrank back, her hand on the purse she still carried over her shoulder. “You most certainly cannot. I swore an oath. I could get fired.”

“You could die,” Jack reminded her.

Anne chewed on her lip, her gut knotting. She’d spent her entire career trying to do right by the people of her country. She prided herself on always taking the high road. Helping someone into the inner sanctum of the West Wing was almost like committing treason.

Charlie touched her arm. “Based on your informer, others could die if Trinity isn’t stopped. But you have to do what you think is right.”

“If it helps,” Declan said. “As a Marine Force Recon team, we all had top secret clearances.”

“Had?” Anne questioned. She knew what Marine Force Recon meant. They were the best of the best of the Marines.

Declan glanced at the other members of his team. “Until we were discharged from the Marine Corps.”

“Discharged?” Anne tilted her head, her gaze going to Jack. “Honorably?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “No. We were dishonorably discharged.”

Anne reeled, shaking her head, her hand tightening on her purse. “Why?”

“For doing what we thought was the right thing,” Declan said, his face grim. “Unfortunately, the powers that be didn’t agree.”

“Did you…kill someone?” Anne asked. “Is that why you were discharged?”

Jack snorted. “No. We didn’t kill someone we were ordered to kill. If we had, a lot of innocent people would have been collateral damage. We made the decision to abort.”

“I don’t understand,” Anne said. “I thought, as a country, we weren’t in the business of killing innocent people, if we could help it.”

“Someone had to take the fall for not taking out a high-powered terrorist.” Declan pushed back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “My team took that fall.” He spread his arms wide. “And now, because of Charlie, we’re fighting the good fight, helping people when the government can’t.” He stared directly into Anne’s eyes. “We understand if you don’t feel comfortable giving us your badge. We’ll find another way to create one for Jack. He will be with you tomorrow, one way or another.”

Anne chewed on the information Jack and Declan had imparted. If what they were saying was true, they’d been booted from the military because they hadn’t wanted to kill innocent people. Their government had let them down.

If the informant who’d texted Anne was correct, Trinity had somehow infiltrated the government and was planning on doing something catastrophic. She couldn’t let it happen. But how could she, a single midlevel analyst, stop anything from happening? It wasn’t as if she could spot a Trinity operative by looking at him.

She didn’t know who they were. But they knew who she was, and they didn’t want her to tip off anyone as to their intentions.

By going to work, she was putting herself at risk. If she died, no one would know that Trinity was planning something big.

She might not be anyone or know anything, but she did know something was about to go down. Since the informer had contacted her, she had to be close to either the entrenched Trinity operatives or close to the people who would be targeted. Either way, she had to find out what was going down and stop it before anyone got hurt.

Anne dug in her purse, pulled out her employee badge and handed it to Jack. “I’m trusting you to do the right thing, as I hope I am by handing you my badge.”

Jack took the card, holding her hand in his for a long moment. “I promise we’ll do the right thing. When it comes right down to it, we love this country, despite what some individuals in powerful positions have done to us. We want what’s right for the country we swore to honor and protect.”

Her fingers curled around his for a moment, then he let go and handed the card to Jonah.

Jonah nodded. “I’ll have that badge and your clearance entered into the system before morning.”

“I don’t want to know how you’ll make that possible.”

Jonah grinned. “It’s best you don’t know. Ignorance is bliss.”

Anne eyed Jack. “If you’re coming to work with me, we’ll have to have a good cover story.”

Jack grinned. “Look at you going all covert on us.”

She frowned. “I’m serious. I can pass you off as the new hire coming to train in my office. I’ve been interviewing people for the position of my assistant for a couple of weeks but hadn’t found anyone I thought could handle the workload or the stress.” She gave him a wry smile. “Guess you’ll be my selection. If your clearance has come through by morning, we’ll have to tell people your security clearance is in process, in case anyone noses around.”

“Just what do you do?” Jack asked.

“I’m an analyst for the national security advisor who sits on the National Security Council.”

Jack frowned. “That’s more than a mouthful. How am I supposed to keep up with all of that?”

Her smile twisted. “Oh, man, you haven’t seen anything yet. It’s alphabet soup at the White House.” Anne’s smile turned south. “Do you have a business suit?”

Jack’s frown deepened. “I haven’t worn a suit since my mother passed away. And that was so long ago I don’t own that suit anymore.”

Declan eyed Jack. “I have a suit that might fit. We will have to take out the length on the trousers, since you’re taller than me.”

“My butler, besides being former military, an expert in martial arts and having amazing taste in vehicles, has been known to sew when necessary,” Charlie said. “We can get that done tonight, assuming there’s enough material in the hem of Declan’s trousers to let them out.”

Anne wanted to laugh at the deepening frown on Jack’s face. “If you don’t want to wear a suit, perhaps one of your teammates would prefer to accompany me to work as my assistant.”

Cole looked up. “I’ll do it.” He grinned. “I own a suit. It’s dusty, but I’m sure it will do.”

Jack rose to his feet. “I’m going. Cole, we need you to help Jonah get me added to the employee database with the correct level of clearance so whatever badge you come up with works when I scan in at the door tomorrow.” Jack nodded toward the leader of their team of former marines. “Declan, show me what you have, so I can get Arnold started on the alterations. We don’t have much time to get things done by morning.”

“Follow me. I have the suit in my closet upstairs.”

Anne released a sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted another man to accompany her as her protector. Jack had proven himself twice that night. She trusted him with her life. Her niggle of doubt came because of her body’s reaction to the man’s touch.

Well, she’d just have to keep her distance from him and avoid bodily contact.

“It’s a good thing you and Grace live here at the estate,” Jack said to Declan as the two left the war room and climbed up to the study. “When did you invest in a suit?” Their voices faded as they moved through the house.

Anne turned to Charlie. “What did they mean by thanks to you, they’re doing the right thing?”

Charlie glanced at the remainder of the men in the room. “I’ve employed Declan and his team to perform missions to right wrongs, help people and do things the FBI, CIA, state and local police won’t or can’t get involved in. We call the team Declan’s Defenders.”

“A kind of vigilante group?”

Charlie shrugged. “Some would say that.”

“They’re more than that,” Grace said. “They saved my life and my roommate’s life. I wouldn’t be alive today if they hadn’t come to my aid.” She gave Anne a gentle smile. “You’re one lucky woman to have them covering your six.”

“Covering my six?”

“We’ll have your back,” Cole said. “Jack will be there with you at all times. If he needs additional help, we’ll be there, as well. You can count on us.”

Anne drew in a deep breath and let it go. “Good. This is all new to me. I’m not a spy, soldier or marine. I’ve never been trained in combat. I studied tae kwon do when I was a teen, but I haven’t used it since I graduated high school a few too many years ago to remember how.”

Grace chuckled. “I’m just now learning how to fire a handgun. Declan got me my own .40 caliber pistol. It scares me to death to think of using it against another human being.” Her face hardened. “But if it’s a choice between my life or the life of someone about to attack me, you bet I will pull the trigger. I refuse to be a victim, ever again. And that goes for anyone threatening someone I love.”

Anne heard the conviction in Grace’s voice and wondered what her story was. What had made her so determined to protect herself and those she cared most about.

“If you knew my husband, you know he was murdered for what he knew about Trinity,” Charlie said. “I might not ever find the people who killed John, but I hope I can keep others from suffering from Trinity’s machinations.”

Anne squared her shoulders. “John contacted me a while back, asking me to report anything out of the ordinary in the National Security Council. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or what appeared to be out of the ordinary, but I promised I’d help him if I could. He convinced me he only wanted to expose the people who were bent on destroying our government from within. I’m still uncertain how I can help, but if this informant is on the up-and-up, and gives me some clues, perhaps we can bring Trinity down before they have a chance to attack.”

“I hope we can. But we can’t do it without our own people on the inside,” Charlie said. “We might have to get more of Declan’s Defenders inside. We’ll work more on that tomorrow. Tonight, our goal is to position Jack as your protector. You can’t focus on anything if you’re afraid for your life.”

“Thank you,” Anne said. “For taking me in when I didn’t know where else to go. Your husband was a good man and you’re doing a great job carrying on his legacy.”

Charlie’s eyes filled with moisture. “He was good and kind and gentle. I miss him.” She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. “In the meantime, you need a place to stay.”

“I’ll show her to a room,” Grace said. “Were you able to salvage any of your clothing? I saw the pictures of the destruction to your apartment. I’m so sorry.”

“At least I wasn’t there when they broke in,” Anne said.

“I might have some clothes you can use until you can replace what you’ve lost.” Grace led the way up the stairs to the study above.

Anne followed. “How long have you been with Charlie and Declan’s Defenders?”

Grace grinned. “Since the beginning. I presented them with their first mission.”

Anne shot a glance toward the pretty young woman. “Were you being targeted by Trinity?”

She shook her head. “No, but my roommate had disappeared. Declan helped me put the pieces together, and ultimately, we found my roommate. Declan saved my life in the process.”

“They’re as good as Charlie claims they are?” Anne asked.

Grace nodded. “The best.”

Anne felt a little better about handing over her badge to the team. And she felt better knowing she didn’t have to ferret out Trinity and their plan of attack on her own. With Jack watching her back and Cole and Jonah scouring the internet for clues, they might have a chance of discovering what was going to happen before it actually occurred.

She hoped she was right.






JACK ENTERED THE suite assigned to Declan and Grace. They’d been together since Charlie first hired him. It was because of the work Declan had done helping Grace stay alive while searching for her roommate that Charlie had come up with the brilliant idea to establish a team of trained combatants to handle situations outside of the police and federal agencies’ hands.

Declan had never been happier than he was with Grace. After being separated from the military for doing the right thing, he deserved to be happy.

Declan crossed the sitting room and entered the bedroom he shared with Grace, opening a closet at the far end. He sorted through the shirts hanging there and dug deep into the back of the closet, eventually pulling out a white dress shirt and charcoal gray suit. “The suit was tailored to fit me, but I think we’re about the same across the chest.” He handed the shirt and blazer to Jack.

Jack tried on the shirt over his black T-shirt. It appeared to fit just fine. The sleeves were a tad short, but they would work. He slipped his arms into the suit jacket and pulled it over his shoulders. It fit his chest and waist, but the sleeves would need lengthening.

“Try the trousers,” Declan said.

Jack kicked off his shoes, shucked his jeans and slipped his legs into the trousers. “They’re a little loose around the waist and hips. A belt will keep them in place.”

Declan patted his flat belly. “Guess I’m putting on a little weight. I might need to step up my exercise routine.”

“We’re just built differently.” Jack looked at himself in the mirror. “If we can let out the pant legs two inches and the sleeves at least an inch, this will work.” He removed the suit, dressed in his jeans and shoes and faced Declan.

His team leader handed him the hangers with the shirt and suit. “Are you up for playing the part of Anne’s assistant tomorrow?”

He nodded. “I suppose so. Although I’m not quite certain what exactly all the people who support the National Security Council actually do.”

“Let’s see if Cole and Jonah have made any progress on that badge. While we’re in the war room, we can do some research on the NSC. Since you’ll be a new hire, you won’t be expected to know much.”

“I’ll need to know how things work in order to look for potential moles or covert terrorists hiding among the people working around Anne.”

“Good point. It’s not like having an enemy pointing a gun in your face.”

Jack’s jaw tightened. “No, it’s more like having an enemy smile to your face and then shoot you in the back as soon as you turn around.”

“True.” Declan led the way down the stairs to the kitchen, where they found Roger Arnold, the butler.

He listened to Jack’s instructions and nodded. Then he took the suit and shirt. “I’ll have them ready within an hour.” Arnold left the kitchen.

“Let’s see what Cole and Jonah have come up with.” Declan motioned toward the study and descended into the war room via the trapdoor.

Cole and Jonah stood beside a printer/laminator in the corner of the room. When it spit out a badge, Jonah held it up. “Cross your fingers,” Jonah said. He slid Anne’s card through a reader that quickly blinked green. Then Jonah slid the new card through the machine.

Jack held his breath. When it blinked green, he let go of the breath he’d been holding. “It works here, but will it work to get me into the West Wing?”

“It should.” Jonah handed him the card and shut down the machines. “I’ve set it up just like Anne’s, with all the security access codes embedded in their database.”

“You were able to access their database that quickly?” Jack shook his head, amazed at what Jonah and Cole were capable of.

“Of course. It’s a government system. The Russians and Chinese aren’t the only people capable of hacking into it.” Jonah snorted. “It has so many back doors that anyone with a little knowledge can get in.”

“I’m glad you’re on our team,” Jack said. “I’d hate it if you went over to the other side.”

Jonah held up his hand. “Been there, done that. John Halverson recruited me out of that nightmare. I can still access the dark web, but I’m not selling secrets, and hopefully, I’m not someone’s target.”

Jack exchanged a glance with Cole.

John Halverson had collected a strange group of operators to staff his team. For that matter, Charlie was continuing his legacy by hiring a Marine Force Recon team that had been dishonorably discharged. Jack couldn’t judge anyone, not after how their careers in the military had ended.

Cole motioned for Jack to join him in front of the monitor. “You’ll need to know a little about the offices and people you’ll be coming into contact with who support the National Security Council.”

“Just what is the National Security Council besides the president and all of his security advisors?” Jack asked.

“Just that. The council is headed by the president of the United States. The most prominent people on the council are the vice president, secretary of state, secretary of defense, secretary of treasury, national security advisor and director of national intelligence.”

For the next hour, Cole and Jack went over the names and faces of the people involved in setting foreign policy for the US government. By the time they finished, Jack’s head was spinning.

“If the informant thinks Ms. Bellamy is the closest person to the sleeper agent, you need to stick with her. Pay attention to them. There are a lot of government officials, committees, directors and more in Washington. We can’t begin to monitor all of them.”




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