Sabotaged mission, p.1
Sabotaged Mission, page 1
The van immediately reversed, tires squealing.
Raising his weapon, Gabe fired at the van’s panels, emptying his rounds at the same time Mac began to fire. The front window imploded.
Nice shot, Mac.
The vehicle did a three-point turn and raced out of the parking lot, melting into the night.
Standing, Gabe dusted gravel from his pants. He inspected the torn elbow of his blazer. His knee protested loudly; he was getting too old for gymnastics in a parking lot.
“That’s twice you’ve saved my life,” Mac said. Her steps were unsteady, the limp more pronounced as she continued toward him with the dog in tow.
“Do I get points for that?” Gabe’s hand trembled with the last traces of adrenaline as he plucked a blade of grass and a bit of gravel from her hair.
“I’ll let you know,” she said.
A slight smile crossed Mac’s face. Exertion had warmed her skin to pink. Despite the disheveled hair and the abrasion on her chin, for the first time since he’d arrived on her doorstep, she seemed truly alive.
Tina Radcliffe has been dreaming and scribbling for years. Originally from Western New York, she left home for a tour of duty with the US Army Security Agency stationed in Augsburg, Germany, and ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her past careers include certified oncology RN, library cataloger and pharmacy clerk. She recently moved from Denver, Colorado, to the Phoenix, Arizona, area, where she writes heartwarming and fun inspirational romance.
Books by Tina Radcliffe
Love Inspired Suspense
Sabotaged Mission
Love Inspired
Hearts of Oklahoma
Finding the Road Home
Ready to Trust
His Holiday Prayer
The Cowgirl’s Sacrifice
Big Heart Ranch
Claiming Her Cowboy
Falling for the Cowgirl
Christmas with the Cowboy
Her Last Chance Cowboy
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Sabotaged Mission
Tina Radcliffe
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
—Isaiah 40:31
Dedicated to the many encouraging writers who helped birth the original concept for this book years ago, including Vince Mooney, Rhonda Starnes, Connie Queen, Terri Weldon, Jackie Layton, Sharee Stover and Stephanie Dees. It really does take a village.
To Tom Radcliffe, who kept asking if I was ever going to write that suspense book. A huge thank-you goes out to my deadline buddies, Melanie Dickerson and Josee Telfer, for early morning writing accountability sessions (really early, it turns out, because I’m in Arizona).
Thank you to my editor, Dina Davis, for this opportunity and my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for her support.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Shielding the Tiny Target by Deena Alexander
ONE
Winston growled, the feral sound low and drawn out, then it morphed into a snapping bark. The bulldog’s barking continued, loud enough to nearly drown out the banging on the front door.
Mackenzie Sharp grabbed the Glock from the coffee table long before it registered that she’d fallen asleep on the couch again. She glanced at her watch and tensed.
It was well after 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night.
Whoever was at the door had guts. They kept knocking, and Winston kept barking. The dog was in a frenzy now, his nails clicking on the tiled floor as he raced back and forth.
“Winston. Come.”
The cacophony immediately ceased. The animal crossed the living room to her.
“Good boy.” She praised him as he shoved his nose against her shoulder and licked her cheek. The animal’s fierce devotion had only increased since she’d returned from the CIA assignment that nearly claimed her life.
Mac slowly sat up. Gripping the handle of her ebony cane, she stood and grimaced at the stab of intense pain that shot down her left leg. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Flying into action was no longer an option. Instead, she methodically tucked the Glock she kept for protection into the waistband of her jeans and hobbled to the door.
“No more than I can handle,” she muttered. “Wasn’t that our deal, Lord?”
She pulled up the security cam on her phone to assess her visitor. Framed by the silhouette of a huge palm tree that filled the horizon and backlit by the haze of a full moon, the man on her stoop faced the street.
When he turned toward the camera, she gasped.
Gabe Denton, a mistake from her past. From the days when she’d foolishly believed she could have a normal life. One that included a relationship.
Despite her careful attempts to stay off the grid, trouble had found her. He stood on her doorstep in a dark suit and tie that screamed “government-issue.” Mac released a groan.
She disarmed the security system, turned the dead bolt and withdrew her Glock. When she cracked the door as far as the chain allowed, the hot, dry, desert breeze seemed to whisper as it moved past.
Fully aware that the screen door and chain lock were all that stood between her and the man on her stoop, Mac leveled the gun at her visitor and slid her index finger into position. Meanwhile, Winston nosed his way into the doorway. The muscular animal bared his teeth, all too eager to reach out and touch.
Unfazed, Denton’s gaze flicked to Winston and then met hers and held. Black-framed glasses emphasized hazel irises that were warm like honey, with flecks of forest green. They offered something she hadn’t expected.
Compassion.
“Hello, Mac.”
Mac shivered. His voice, both smooth and husky at the same time, stirred memories she thought had been buried five years ago. “What are you doing here?”
“Shipman sent me,” he said.
CIA Senior Officer Todd Shipman. Her boss and handler on the Toronto mission that had gone so very wrong.
Mac frowned, confused. Gabe Denton was a close friend and protégé of Shipman. The presence of this particular man meant something serious was going down.
“How did you even find me?” she finally asked.
He didn’t answer, but his expression said that if he could find her, anyone could. Anyone. Like the unknown shooter who slid through her memory in flashes that kept her awake at night.
“I’m not operational. Shipman is well aware of my status,” she continued.
“He hoped you’d make an exception.”
“An exception? To what? Shipman decommissioned the task force. Which leaves me unassigned as well.” Lips clamped tight, she met his gaze again. She wouldn’t address the obvious physical limitations that kept her from returning to the Agency anytime soon.
He looked past her into the house. “May I come in?”
Mac didn’t try to hide her frustration as she released the chain, opened the solid metal door and then the screen, careful not to lose her balance.
As he moved past her, his jacket inched back, revealing a leather shoulder holster and a SIG Sauer. Mac tensed at the sight. Sent by Shipman and carrying a weapon? It certainly was not protocol.
Denton stared pointedly at the gun that still targeted his upper torso. She tucked away her own weapon as he stepped into the room and looked around. He frowned and evaluated her living space, leaving no doubt that he was as thrilled with her generic rental as he was with being here.
That made two of them.
Hiding out in suburbia was not part of her planned career path. Nor had she expected to find herself in the middle of a mission that had gone south. The assignment eight weeks ago had left her injured and her fellow agent Liz Morrow presumed dead.
The physical healing from Mac’s injuries was slow. Her mental and emotional healing even slower. Mac had finally reached the other side and was able to sleep a few restless hours at a time. She’d been on her way to becoming whole again. But all that had been destroyed when she’d been compromised by an unknown gunman at the rehab facility. She’d left her condo in Denver and arrived at this rental two weeks ago to try yet again to get back on her feet, literally and figuratively.
Now this man’s arrival threatened to toss every scrap of that hard-won progress out the window.
“Off the beaten path, isn’t it?” he commented.
Mac shrugged. That was the point. The place sat on a cul-de-sac on the edge of the desert, along with six other identical one-story stucco homes with red-tiled roofs. The grounds consisted of decorative gravel and cacti. Spartan. Like the inside. Cell service could be counted on to be spotty, but traffic at this end of the residential development was nil. All good, since she was trying to be inconspicuous.
Mac leaned back against the closed door and released a long breath. “Why are you here?”
Denton
He cleared his throat. “There’s a situation, and Shipman needs you.”
“The man has an entire organization at his disposal,” she said.
“He wants you.”
And that sealed the deal. Mac couldn’t and wouldn’t refuse her boss. Even Denton knew that. They went way back. Todd Shipman had been her father’s best friend. The Shipmans had taken her under their wing when she was fifteen—the year her parents died.
Still, Mac had made the decision to go to ground, locking out even Shipman, in a last-ditch effort to keep herself alive.
Yes, she’d do anything for the man, but in her current condition, her assistance on an assignment would be more a hindrance than a help.
The look in his eyes since Denton had stepped into her home said he agreed.
“If you expect me to leave Phoenix, you’re going to have to do better than that,” she said. “I had protection in Denver, and that didn’t stop someone from trying to put a bullet in me.” She paused. “Or should I say, another bullet?”
Denton offered a short nod that let her know he was well aware of why she’d fled Colorado.
“The Agency has intel that Elizabeth Morrow is alive and being held hostage.”
“What?” Mac’s stomach took a hit, and her knees threatened to buckle. She gripped her cane tightly.
Liz was alive? Goose bumps shot up her arms.
For eight weeks she had been grieving the loss of her partner on the mission. Grieving and heaping guilt upon herself for Liz’s death.
Mac worked to calm the rapid beating of her heart. “I assume they’re acting on that intel.” She barely got the words past her trembling lips.
“The intel is being verified. In the meantime, Shipman feels that the threat to your personal safety has escalated and he wants you to come in.”
“You said he needs me. This is a different story.” Mac shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’ve done a pretty good job keeping myself alive up to now.”
“He wants you to come in.” The words were resolute, his gaze unwavering.
Dread washed over Mac. She swallowed. “I’m going to need more. Who has Morrow?” This time her words were barely a whisper as she shoved back the fear that nearly strangled her.
“I don’t have that information.”
“Someone has Liz,” she murmured, the words unbelievable.
Then she did the math. Eight weeks. Where had Liz been all this time? Mac shook her head, clearing away the images and questions slamming into her. If only she could figure out why the Toronto mission went sideways and why she was on someone’s hit list, she might be able to get ahead of the situation. Thus far, she had no clue, and to her knowledge, neither did the Agency.
“There’s a plane waiting for us at Sky Harbor,” Denton continued. “From there, we’ll head to the Denver office, where Shipman is waiting to brief you.”
Mac nodded slowly again, digesting the information. Liz was alive.
She was afraid to be relieved. Her mind swirled as her gaze narrowed to focus on Denton and his plan to take her to Denver International Airport.
“Okay. Now we know why me,” she said. “Why you?”
“He trusts me.” Denton paused. “And he hoped that you would, too.”
She stared at him for a moment, sorting her thoughts. Of course Shipman would use her history with Denton as leverage to gain an advantage. While they hadn’t parted on contentious terms, the current situation was nothing less than awkward.
“Then you can read me in,” Mac finally said. She’d prefer to get the details from her boss, but the sooner she could begin processing, the better.
“My job is to get you to Denver. Period.”
Not surprised at his response, Mac offered an annoyed grunt. Gabe Denton was a letter-of-the-law sort of guy. If he did know more than he’d let on, he wouldn’t break protocol.
“Fine. I’ll get my ready bag and Winston’s supplies.” She was only agreeing because Todd Shipman had made the request. Not because she wanted or needed the Agency’s protection.
Denton’s gaze went from the dog to her. His expression said he wasn’t pleased.
That wasn’t her problem. The bulldog would make up for the fact that she wasn’t functioning at 100 percent yet. He’d also have her back. Because until the assailant who’d put half a dozen bullets in her in Toronto and tried again in Denver was found, she didn’t trust anyone else to keep her alive. Not even Gabe.
* * *
Gabe Denton did his best to keep his face impassive. Though he tried not to show concern, he couldn’t deny an unexpected surge of protective emotions when he looked at Mac. She’d lost at least ten pounds since he’d seen her last, and the haunting blue eyes were underlined with dark smudges, indicating she slept little, if at all. But there was something else, besides lack of sleep. Mac was functioning by rote. The spark that used to be in her eyes was gone.
While they hadn’t kept in touch since their breakup five years ago, he’d made a point of subtly asking about her whenever he met with Shipman. There was something about Mac that touched him in a way that no one else ever had. He hadn’t realized he’d had a heart until she’d broken it.
Gabe had read her file before he left Colorado. It was filled with heavy redactions regarding her disastrous assignment in Canada. Removed from the duty roster for postoperative recovery in Denver, she’d been compromised at the facility where she’d been receiving outpatient rehab. The agent assigned to protect her had been shot and killed.
Mac had gone to ground. He’d have done the same thing. The Agency was tasked to protect its operations officers. What went wrong?
Guilt tore at him. He should have visited her in the hospital, but he’d been convinced she would refuse to see him. Mac loathed anyone, especially him, seeing her vulnerable. As it was, she was less than happy to find him on her doorstep tonight.
He shook his head. What was Todd Shipman thinking? And why had Gabe agreed to be the liaison for this mission? Right now he ought to be fly-fishing in Montana. So why wasn’t he?
Because Shipman said that with the uncertain intel on Liz, Mac would be safer if she came in, and he was sure that Denton could convince her to come back to Denver. Then there was the fact that Denton owed Shipman his life and his career. So, yeah, agreeing was a no-brainer.
As he walked around the small living room, his gaze fell on a framed photo facedown on the coffee table. Gabe flipped it over. It was a younger and markedly less thin Mac standing with her parents, smiling at the camera. He’d seen the picture of her parents before, though she had never talked about the embassy bombing that had left Ambassador and Mrs. Sharp dead.
He’d lost his own mother to cancer since he’d last seen Mac. The fact that he and Mac had a lot in common failed to comfort him. Two loners recruited into government service, living lives that were lies for the greater good.
About once a year, he considered a line of work in the private sector.
Once this assignment was complete, he vowed to seriously give a career change more thought. He found himself shaking his head.
Who was he kidding? He was a company man, and he probably always would be, if only to keep his father happy.
When Mac returned to the room, her chin-length straight blond hair had been tucked behind her ears, mostly hidden by a black ball cap. A cane was in one hand and a black duffle in the other. She’d strapped a messenger bag across her chest. Again, he noted the dark circles around her eyes and the awkward movements.
He was headed on a mission with a woman who was in no way ready for the field. Dread left a sour taste in his mouth.
As if reading his mind, she lifted her face in challenge.
For a moment, he stared, more than a little intrigued by the proud tilt of her chin and the fire in her eyes. She was a beautiful woman, despite her current issues. Almost unconsciously, he stepped back. Yeah, and he’d been burned by Mac once before. He still cared, and that was a dangerous thing.
