Cover Copy
Will a historical legacy doom the nation . . . or save it?
Wyatt Stone solves historic mysteries on his popular TV show, No Stone Unturned. But nothing as shocking as the inheritance left to him—and six unknown strangers. The mind-blowing document will change perceptions of the Founding Fathers and rock the very foundations of democracy.
Talia Davis thrives on her high-stress job as a computer hacker for the elite rescue team, Counterstrike. But a rocky breakup leaves her ready for a change, and Wyatt’s sexy smile tempts her out of her comfort zone. When word leaks she’s one of the seven inheritors, Talia is nearly killed by two powerful political foes who will stop at nothing—including murder—to gain control of the legacy.
Can Wyatt and Talia expose the traitors in time to save the nation? Or will they lose everything they hold dear in a quest to preserve the founding fathers’ ominous legacy . . .
“Jannine Gallant gives you a satisfying read.”—Kat Martin, New York Times bestselling author
“Jannine Gallant is an exciting new voice in romantic suspense.”—Mary Burton, New York Times bestselling author
“Every Step She Takes delivers enough twists and turns to keep the reader guessing until the end.”—Nancy Bush, New York Times bestselling author
“Every Move She Makes will have you looking over your shoulder long after the lights go out.”—Nancy Bush, New York Times bestselling author
“Jannine Gallant is a talented author who knows how to grab your attention and keeps the suspense in high gear until the end.”—RT Book Reviews on Buried Truth
“Gallant’s well-wrought second Siren Cove contemporary…will keep the reader enthralled until the explosive conclusion.”—Publishers Weekly on Lost Innocence
“In Gallant’s gripping third Siren Cove romantic thriller…mystery adds intensity to this fast-faced story.”—Publishers Weekly on Hidden Secrets
Books by Jannine Gallant
Counterstrike
Imminent Danger
Fatal Encounter
Lethal Memory
Siren Cove
Buried Truth
Lost Innocence
Hidden Secrets
Born To Be Wilde
Wilde One
Wilde Side
Wilde Thing
Wilde Horses
Who’s Watching Now
Every Move She Makes
Every Step She Takes
Every Vow She Breaks
Secrets Of Ravenswood
We’ll Never Tell
She’ll Never Rest
He’ll Never Know
Redemption Texas
Nothing But Trouble
Asking For Trouble
A Deadly Love
Road To Serendipity
An Uncertain Destiny
Bittersweet
Ominous Legacy
A Counterstrike Novel
Jannine Gallant
Table of Contents
Cover Copy
Other Books
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Coming Soon
About the Author
Copyright
Ominous Legacy
Copyright © 2020 by Jannine Gallant
This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Jannine Gallant.
Cover Art by Creative Author Services
Published by Jannine Gallant
United States of America
First Electronic Edition: September 2020
First Print Edition: September 2020
ISBN-13: 9798680029374
Dedication
This one is for Ginger. I do my best thinking while walking in the woods with my favorite dog. My plots would be a mess without her!
Prologue
Philadelphia ~ August, 1787
“It’s oppressively hot in here.” General Washington rose from his seat at the foot of the table in the formal dining room to open one of the tall casement windows. A humid summer breeze set the heavy drapes swaying and ruffled the stack of parchment resting on the polished oak surface near Thomas Jefferson’s brandy snifter. The candles in the wall scones flickered, casting shadows across the six men still seated.
“If word of our meeting leaks, questions will be asked.” Franklin’s hand shook slightly as he tugged on his wilted cravat. Though his frail body required the aid of an invalid chair to move about, his eyes behind round spectacles were still bright with intelligence.
Washington dropped the long velvet curtain into place, muting the chirping crickets in the moonless evening before turning to face their host. “I doubt spies are lingering in your garden, Ben. We all arrived separately, and no one has reason to suspect our mission.”
“If anyone did, bloody hell would break loose when the convention reconvenes Monday morning.” Alexander Hamilton nudged the man to his left. “I never expected hammering out a document acceptable to all parties would take the entire summer, eh James? Had I known, I would have declined my invitation to attend.”
Madison grimaced. “The whole process has certainly been time-consuming.”
“However, we’re finally close to a compromise, which is why I summoned you all.” Franklin cleared his throat and met the gaze of each man as Washington resumed his seat. “Our fledgling nation will move forward under a new system of governance once the states ratify the constitution.”
John Adams lifted a silver spoon to stir his tea. “A noble experiment, one we’ve all agreed is for the best.”
“What are your concerns, Ben?” John Jay leaned back in his chair. “You must have apprehensions, or you would never have sent the missives. Several of us traveled a great distance out of respect for you, so speak your piece.”
“No one believes more strongly in government by the will of the people than I, but lamentable mistakes have plagued us since declaring our independence.” His brow furrowed. “We certainly can’t anticipate all the eventualities we, as a nation, may face a score or more years from now.”
“What are your reservations?” Jefferson tapped one long finger on the tabletop, punctuating each word.
“The Articles of Confederation have been an unmitigated disaster. There are likely weaknesses in this new constitution we can’t begin to fathom. I propose a contingency. Should the worst happen and the country be thrown into chaos, the seven of us will rise to the challenge and take back the reins. We’ll devise a new governing body, keeping the exemplary portions of the existing system and removing any fatal flaws.”
Silence followed his proclamation, the ticking of the
mantel clock marking the seconds as each man digested his words.
Madison leaned forward to point at the elderly statesman. “Your contingency sounds very much like treason, sir. An oligarchy subverting the constitution? Who’s to say we could do better?”
“I’ve chosen each of you after much thought. In this room sit representatives from both northern and southern states who have their citizens’ interests at heart, as well as the good of the nation. We’ve not always agreed in the past, which is as it should be, but we’re intelligent, reasonable men. Men of stature and influence.” Franklin’s voice grew in strength. “God willing, we’ll never exercise this plan, but I’m not prepared to see our country and all we’ve worked to achieve fall to anarchy.”
“And if we’re dead and buried before the government collapses in disarray?” Jay pushed aside his teacup in favor of the brandy snifter beside it. “What then?”
“We’ll each pass our obligation to someone we deem fit to fulfill our duty. In all likelihood, if the nation survives a generation intact—and I pray for that result—our progeny will continue to flourish under the new system.”
“I anticipate one critical weakness to your proposal, Ben.” Washington leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would our governing body simply stand down, especially in a crisis? They would hang us all as traitors.”
“Because our directive will be the law of the land.” Franklin met his gaze, and a smile curled his thin lips. “Odds are, our first president is sitting here at this table. We will devise a binding document with the contingency clearly stated, along with the criteria necessary to set it into motion. Our duly elected president will sign the document as his first executive order and hold it in confidence. Going forward, other than the seven of us and our chosen inheritors, only each successive president will be privy to our night’s work here.
“Your reasoning is sound, Ben. I’m in favor.” Hamilton brought his palm down on the table with a slap. “But when one of dies, how will the others know who he has appointed to carry on in his stead?”
Franklin gave a quick nod. “Point taken. We’ll each keep a copy of the contingency to pass forward as our legacy.”
“All well and good, but ink fades and parchment burns.” Jay frowned. “We need something identifiable that isn’t easily destroyed.”
Adams raised his teaspoon and held it close to the candelabra in the center of the table. The engraved thistle on the handle was clearly visible in the soft light. “A unique design. From our proposed national seal, I assume?”
“Astute of you to notice.” Franklin’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Revere made the set for me. Seven unique spoons with symbols from our rejected seal. Will those do? We pass along a copy of our document and a spoon to a worthy heir.”
“Agreed.” Jefferson picked up the sharpened quill and pulled a sheet of parchment close. “May I suggest we proceed? The hour grows late, and I am certain we will have acute differences over what constitutes a calamity worthy of usurping our new government.”
“Undoubtedly.” Washington let his gaze pass over each man seated at the table. “I, too, hope this document never sees the light of day, but precautions are always necessary both on and off the field of battle. Gentlemen, let us get down to business.”
Chapter One
“That’s really gross, Dad.”
“Huh?” Wyatt Stone glanced up from the journal he’d been flipping through and blinked at his daughter. “What’s gross?”
“You set a disgusting box covered in dust and cobwebs on the table where we eat. Talk about unsanitary.” Bree rolled her eyes and flipped her streaky brown hair over one shoulder. “Like I said. Gross.”
“Oh.” After a moment, he lifted the heavy cardboard container to the floor and surreptitiously brushed a couple of mouse turds off the table. The corners of a few folders in the box had definitely been chewed by rodents. “Better?”
She didn’t bother to respond, just went back to studying for her biology test. At least he assumed she was studying . . . when she wasn’t on her phone texting. “Does your mom let you play on your phone when you’re supposed to be doing homework?”
“Yes.”
He snorted. “Sure, she does. Last time I checked, your mother was the disciplinarian. I’m the fun parent.”
“Not when you have your nose buried in a bunch of old papers.” She scowled at him across the table. “I was so hungry, I actually made myself dinner since it seemed obvious you weren’t going to cook. What’s so fascinating in that box, anyway?”
“You poured milk on cereal. Big deal.” She did have a point about missing dinner. He stretched out an arm to snag a banana from the fruit bowl, peeled it, and took a bite before answering her question. “My Great-Uncle Hector willed me all his genealogy research since I was the only one in the family interested. I stopped by his house today and dragged a crate full of documents down from the attic. There are three more boxes just like this one.”
“Three more? Really? I don’t think I can take that much excitement.”
He couldn’t hold back a quick grin at the heavy irony in her tone. She’d clearly inherited her sarcastic nature—if not a love of the past—from him.
“Don’t knock old documents, Bree. They’re essential to uncovering historic mysteries, and that’s what’s funding your college account.”
“Great. Fabulous. Too bad I won’t need it until I graduate high school, and I’ll probably die from the plague before then.” She narrowed her eyes. “Mice carry horrible diseases you know.”
He ignored her pissy attitude, which he had to admit might be warranted in this case, and pushed aside a few folders to find his phone. “Are you still hungry? I can order take-out.”
“Pizza?” She straightened in her chair and gave him a hopeful look. “Or how about Chinese? I could go for Mu Shu Pork.”
“Chinese it is.” He made the call and placed the order, then squatted on the floor beside the offensive box to rummage through the contents. Family tree charts rolled into tubes, moth-eaten diaries, photos of dour looking ancestors in uncomfortable, formal dress. He was practically in heaven.
Stella, Bree’s Yorkie, rose to her feet, strolled out from under the table, and shook. Sniffing the box, she backed up and growled. Wyatt pushed the dog out of his way and dug deeper. When a clank sounded from somewhere within the depths, he frowned. “What the hell?”
“Dad.”
“Huh?” He cringed when his fingers brushed through another pile of mouse droppings before closing around something cold and hard.
“Swear jar.” Bree pointed at the recycled container on the high counter between the dining room and the kitchen. “You owe it a buck.”
He muttered something beneath his breath that would have cost him another dollar. His jar easily contained three times as many bills as his daughter’s Like jar. But at least she’d stopped using the annoying figure of speech in every other sentence.
“I’ll pony up the cash when the food gets here.” He pulled out his find and studied the bent and blackened object. “Looks like an old spoon.”
“Ugh.” When the doorbell rang, she pushed back her chair and held out her hand. “Wallet. I’ll pay the guy while you admire that hunk of metal. I bet if you’d ever looked at Mom with that much excitement, she wouldn’t have divorced you.”
“Smart ass.” He slid the leather billfold from the pocket of his jeans and slapped it onto her palm. “Make sure to tip him.”
“Duh.” She disappeared from the room, followed by her dog. The front door squeaked open a few seconds later. Once Stella stopped barking, a low conversation ensued.
As he studied the spoon, a thrill shot through him. Definitely solid silver beneath all the tarnish. And old. Really old. Based on the shape and style, eighteenth century old. He rubbed his finger across the ridges and depressions of a design. “Holy shit! What a find!”
“That’s two bucks.” Bree walked into the room and set the fragra
nt paper bag on the table.
His stomach rumbled. “Take it out of my wallet. I stocked up on dollar bills for your week here.”
“That’s hilarious.” She dropped two ones in his jar before continuing into the kitchen to take plates from the cupboard. “Chopsticks or forks?”
“Forks. I don’t have all night.” Wyatt neatly stacked the papers still scattered across the table and set the spoon on top of them before pulling white containers from the paper bag and inhaling the steamy aroma. “Intoxicating. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
“Beer or juice?” Bree called from the kitchen.
“Just water. Thanks.”
She returned with her load, and they sat down to eat. After heaping food on her plate and dropping a morsel of pork to Stella, his daughter gave him a speculative stare. “I haven’t seen Kaitlyn around lately.”
Guilt took the edge off his appetite. He’d had a brief fling with one of the researchers on the staff of his TV show, but the attraction had fizzled pretty quickly when she’d pushed for more. “Uh, we’re taking a step back.”
“Too bad. She was nicer than most of the women you date.”
His neck heated as he forked up a bite of Kung Pao chicken. “What about that boy you were hanging out with, Liam?”
Her appalled expression nearly made him choke.
“You’ve got to be kidding? I absolutely refuse to discuss boys with you.”
“Fine. How’s school? When’s your next cross-country meet?”
“Friday. I gave you a schedule.”
“Right. It’s on the refrigerator. I’ll definitely be there to cheer you on.” He searched for another topic, then gave up and ate in silence for a few minutes. “Are your brothers still driving you crazy now that school’s back in session?”
Ominous Legacy (Counterstrike Book 4) Page 1