Body Shot

by Amy Jarecki

  “Thank you for inviting me.” Jarrod Anderson gave a firm handshake and looked beyond Mike’s shoulder. “Is she here?”

  “Aye, but she doesna ken you are.”

  “Understood.”

  Before they left Scotland, Mike invited Henri’s father to the wedding. What shocked him? Anderson not only RSVP’d, he’d also cried on the phone. The man was elated.

  Standing aside, he gestured for Anderson to enter. “Ah, sweetheart. There’s someone to see you.”

  Seated on the couch, Henri’s jaw dropped. The cup fell from her fingers. Hot coffee splashed in her lap, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes grew wide and filled with hate and pain. “What the hell are you doing here?” she sniped, instantly on red alert.

  Anderson held out his hands. “I—”

  “I invited him,” Mike said, moving forward and taking a seat beside Henri.

  Her eyes shifted his way. “You what? Why?”

  Mike shrugged, trying to ease the hostile tension in the air. “I was surprised he wanted to come.”

  Anderson slid into an armchair with a nervous smile. “Once I found out where you were, an army wouldn’t have been able to keep me away.”

  “Are you serious?” Henri crossed her arms. “You abandoned me!”

  Anderson looked to Mike. “I made a promise to her mother.”

  Henri’s spine jolted to rigid. “You abandoned her, too.”

  The man shook his head. “That’s where you’re mistaken.”

  Henri slammed her fists into the couch and stood. “This is ridiculous.”

  “I know it was wrong,” Anderson explained. “I was young and stupid. Your mother and I had been dating for a couple of months when she got pregnant with you. I stayed for the birth. I even offered to marry her.”

  “Wait.” Henri held out her palms. “You weren’t married?”

  “No.” Anderson bit the corner of his mouth. “And she didn’t accept my proposal.”

  Henri looked bewildered. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t a Paiute...I didn’t want to stay in Saint George.” His shoulders fell. “I guess she thought we weren’t compatible.”

  Anger and disbelief filled Henri’s eyes. “So, you just left, and decided to never see me again?”

  Mike picked up Henri’s cup and poured the coffee, though no one touched it.

  Anderson heaved a sigh—the man couldn’t have imagined this meeting would be easy. “Things were different back then. Your mother and I argued—a lot. I don’t even remember about what, but she asked me to leave—told me she never wanted to see me again. She said you would be better off without me.”

  Henri clapped a hand over her mouth. “Mama told me that, too. I was better off without my deadbeat dad.”

  “Deadbeat?” Anderson asked.

  “That’s what she said. She told me not to bother contacting you. You rejected me because...” Running her hands down her face, Henri stopped and gasped.

  “Why?” Mike asked.

  She held out her arms. “I-I’m not like him. I’m a half-breed.”

  “No.” Anderson stood. “You are my daughter. In the flesh. Look at you! You are stunning. You are a woman I could only be proud to call my child.”

  Henri stared, the battle raging inside her reflected in her stance. “But you left me. You had a choice.”

  “I know.” Anderson cringed. “And I’m not proud of what I did. I owe you an apology. More than an apology. I only wish I could change the past. But know this: No matter what you thought of me or what you may think of me now, I love you. If you need anything. Anything at all. I am here for you.”

  “Even with your new family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are they?” She planted her fists on her hips. “Hiding in California?”

  He gestured toward the door. “They’re here. They want to meet you.”

  “Please.” Henri held up a palm. “I can’t handle this right now.”

  Anderson shot a doubtful glance at Mike. “Perhaps I should leave.”

  “You should,” she said.

  “But I’m not leaving you.” Her father squared his shoulders. “I’m just walking out of the suite to give you some breathing room.” He again shifted his gaze to Mike. “I hope you will join us for dinner as we discussed.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “We will?” Henri asked.

  Mike led Anderson to the door. “If not, I’ll give you a ring.”

  Again, the older man offered his hand. “I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity to see my daughter.” A tear streamed from his eye and then he was gone.

  Mike’s jaw clenched as he bit back his own tears. But now he had to turn and face the dragon.

  Henri stood against the wall, clutching her arms across her chest and looking shell shocked. “Why did you do it?”

  “Because he’s your dad. The only one you’ll ever have.”

  “But he hurt my mother.” She hid her face in her hands. “And he abandoned us.”

  “According to him, he was asked to leave.”

  “I’m so confused.” She looked up. “And you! I can’t believe you brought him up here the day before our wedding. Why would you do that to me?” The expression on her face was so filled with pain, Mike wished she’d just hit him. He could take a good jab across the jaw before he could deal with years of suppressed emotional turmoil.

  “I knew it was a risk, but now you know. What if you’d gone your whole life without hearing his side?”

  She dropped her hands. “God damn you. Maybe I don’t want to hear his side.”

  That made as much sense as a floating rock. “Perhaps I was wrong. I’m sorry. If you choose, you never have to see him again.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s settled, then.” Mike pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Nothing’s settled!”

  ***

  It didn’t take long for Henri to compose herself. She was nothing if not resilient. Last night, she and Mike had an awkward, but interesting dinner with her family including her father, stepmother and half-sister and brother. They were so different than she’d imagined, so normal. No, she hadn’t forgiven her father yet, but she was open to listening to him. And he did manage to convince her he wanted to be a part of her life now.

  Strange, but she liked that.

  Better yet, today was her big day. Mike had spared no expense and hired a wedding consultant to help Henri find a dress, take her to the salon and choose flowers. For the first time in her life, she didn’t bother looking at price tags and just let everything happen around her.

  Now, she stood in front of the mirror. Never one for fancy dresses, Henri had chosen a short, ivory dress with simple lines that flattered her figure. It had feminine lace—far more girly than anything she’d ever worn. Over her crown, the hairdresser had used a braid with an ivory ribbon laced through and left a cascade of soft curls in the back.

  “You are stunning,” said Aunt Chenoa from the chair. She looked to the consultant. “She could have been a model, but she put on a pair of fatigues and joined the Army instead.”

  Henri chuckled. “You’d better take pictures because it’s the last time you’ll see me dressed like this.”

  “It’s time to go,” said the lady, picking up Henri’s single red rose.

  “Are you ready?” Henri asked as her aunt set down her cup.

  “The question is, are you ready?”

  “It’s now or never.” She took the rose. Yes, she could have ordered a bouquet with a dozen roses, but she liked the simplicity of the single flower.

  They made their way to the Terrazza Di Sogno, a terrace overlooking the Bellagio fountain. As Henri stepped outside, she caught a glimpse of Mike gazing out over the water. He wore a kilt of red and blue, and black waist-length jacket. Broad shouldered, tapered waist, powerful hips, and masculine calves. Her knees wobbled a little. Rose filled out the Scottish formal dress like h
er imaginings of a great laird—a man proud, commanding, and gorgeous. When her heels clicked the tiles, he turned. A grin as wide as the Grand Canyon spread across his face.

  Stepping forward with a slight limp, he held out his gloved hand. “Thanks for coming, Eagle Eyes.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lionheart.” She arched a brow. “You look pretty tasty in a skirt.”

  “It’s a kilt.”

  “I know.”

  He raised her hand to his lips. “And you are more stunning than any woman on Earth. Your hair looks like black satin.”

  The celebrant cleared his throat. “Are we ready?”

  Henri looked at the small crowd—Aunt Chenoa and Martin. Her father, stepmother and two half-siblings. But to her surprise, Logan Rodgers and Olivia Hamilton were there as well.

  “How did they get leave?” Henri whispered.

  “Garth doesna know. They’re flying back to Pakistan in the morning.”

  She smiled at them and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Olivia nodded and waved while Logan smiled. Goodness, they made a cute couple.

  “Let us begin,” said the celebrant.

  Henri stood, holding hands with Mike and looking into his crystal-blue eyes while they took their vows. Everything was so perfect. It was like floating in a surreal fantasy. Never in her life did she dream of marrying a Scottish spy, a man who routinely chased down terrorists and stopped them from anarchy. He was a man who would fight for right with everything he had and, when he was beaten, he would get back up and fight some more. He was a hero and he was hers.

  I will love him until I take my last breath.

  If you enjoyed Body Shot, the next in the ICE Series will be Mach One, where the Australian pilot, Luke Fox, is sent into Mexico to infiltrate an untouchable drug cartel. What he doesn’t know is the American woman who gets him inside has been trapped by the villain’s talons most of her life. Releasing on January 2nd, 2018:

  Mach One ~ Chapter One

  Luke made no audible sound, carefully rolling each step across the balls of his feet as he crept toward the building, the butt of his M4 rifle secured against his shoulder. His finger twitched on the trigger. Every breath roared in his ears like the thunder of a giant waterfall. Still, not a soul could hear his controlled inhalations. And no one but Luke could detect the air slowly expelling from his lungs. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple and pooled against the gun, making the rifle slip on his cheek. His finger twitched again as he blinked and tightened his grip. He was too close to the target to err.

  He slid his foot forward, his gaze shifting rapidly. One misplaced step and this whole gig could explode. He’d counted each enemy combatant as he’d taken them out. Six down, and one bastard was still out there. Waiting.

  God, he loved this, living on adrenaline and caffeine. A thrill-seeking-junkie, he’d joined NATO three years ago for this very thing. But it wasn’t until he was recruited by the elite International Clandestine Enterprise that he’d found home. ICE.

  The hair on the back of Luke’s neck stood on end. Reflexes took over as he crouched before taking another step.

  Crack!

  A shot blasted from ten o’clock, smacking into the wall above his head. He dropped and rolled, swinging his weapon toward the shooter. Closing his finger on the trigger, he fired off a repeating round, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he searched for the perp through his NV goggles. He homed on a flicker of movement. Relentlessly, he fired until the dark outline of the enemy gunman dropped.

  Seven down, suckas. Springing to his feet, Luke sprinted toward Building One. At last, he’d won—taken the biscuit.

  The lights in the paintball court flashed on, blinding and bright.

  “Fox, you’re needed in the sit room ASAP,” Garth Moore’s voice reverberated across the room, splattered with red and blue paint.

  Luke shifted his goggles to his forehead and flipped on the safety of his M4 paintball rifle. The weapon might only shoot paint, but it still hurt. “I won, fair and square, mates. Told you I could take the lot of you wankers.” He looked to the American, Aaron Crosby, lumbering to his feet and swathed in blue paint.

  “You ass. How did you know I had you in my sights?”

  Luke tapped his helmet while the other six gathered around. He’d ducked because of a gut warning. He always did. “Sixth sense. Every pilot has to develop one, else he’ll end up taking a nose-dive at Mach one on a three-second suicide mission.”

  “Yeah right.” Crosby gestured toward the exit with his thumb. “The boss sounded serious.”

  “I hope he is.” Luke headed for the door. “I’ve endured enough training to last a bloody lifetime.”

  Luke tried not to grin as he sped toward the sit room. An Aussie ex-RAAF pilot, he’d been training at ICE for four months. Hell, he’d been baptized by fire when he ended up the pilot of a mission that took out one of the top brass of ISIS and foiled their plot to get their hands on a nuke. He’d proved himself in the field and, though training had been necessary and fun, he was ready to get back out there. It killed him to watch the ops go down on the monitors in Command. He needed to be in the thick of it. Luke wasn’t just a pilot and, with his training at ICE, there wasn’t any job out there he couldn’t tackle—not a scumbag he couldn’t take down—not a mob of terrorists he couldn’t stop.

  Did he have an overly inflated ego? Probably. That happened when a man spent too much time acing simulated operations and left his teammates covered in blue paint. But he wasn’t a novice. He’d earned his stripes in the trenches just like everyone else.

  “Fox, you’re late,” Garth barked as Luke pushed through the doors of the inner sanctum—the situation room stood as a secured glass fortress in the center of the Command Center, Command for short. A place where top secret news was relayed and plans to combat evil were carefully laid.

  Luke gave the CO a lopsided grin. “Sorry, sir.” Garth Moore was an ex-Marine, turned mega-spy. He had cropped gray hair and eyes of steel, and controlled the operations of assets all over the globe in the most clandestine operation on the planet. ICE wasn’t only secret, known only to presidents and prime ministers of NATO countries, ICE was remote, located in an underground World War II bunker, converted into an elite, high-tech training and monitoring facility. Forty-five meters below the surface of inner Iceland, not even a nuclear holocaust could take it out.

  But ICE existed to ensure such holocausts never happened.

  “We have a situation,” Garth said, his expression growing dark, serious. His look alone said this was the real deal.

  Bring it on. “Yeah? And you need an ace?” Luke couldn’t help but grin.

  “I need a pilot—someone who won’t crack, no matter what. Would that be you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes sir? Isn’t that a bit cavalier given you haven’t heard where I’m sending you?”

  “I’m ready for a challenge, sir.”

  “That’s what all the rookies say.”

  “I’m no rook.” After glancing to the blank monitors, Luke narrowed his gaze and leaned forward. “So...What’s up?”

  ~ End of excerpt of MACH ONE

  About the Author

  Amy Jarecki embarked on her writing journey shortly after she completed an MBA with Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, Scotland. Her first manuscripts were suspense novels, and were never published. She calls writing them baptism by fire—a lesson in learning to write fiction. These lessons, combined with several writing conferences and classes, led her to write her first published book, Boy Man Chief, which won the League of Utah Writers award for Best Manuscript, and the Spark Book Award.

  A lot has happened since, with some of the highlights being Rise of a Legend winning the national RONE award for Best Time Travel; hitting the Amazon Top 100 Bestseller list; and a host of other accolades.

  Amy enjoys the freedom of authorship and the opportunity to work creatively every day. She has lived in Australia, Bermuda
and has spent extensive time in Scotland. Whenever possible, she visits the places she writes about to add vibrant realism to her stories.

  She loves writing Scottish historical romance, and now she’s adding romantic suspense to the mix. Come along for the ride!

  Visit Amy’s website.

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  Other Books by Amy Jarecki

  Links to all your favorite online retailers can be found on Amy’s website

  ICE Series

  Hunt for Evil

  Body Shot

  Mach One (Coming January 2, 2018)

  Highland Defender & Lords of the Highlands (Mass Market)

  The Fearless Highlander

  The Valiant Highlander

  The Highlander’s Iron Will (a novella September, 2017)

  Published by Hachette Book Group’s Forever imprint:

  The Highland Duke

  The Highland Commander

  The Highland Guardian

  The Highland Chieftain (July 2018)

  The Highland Contender (January 2019)

  Guardian of Scotland Series (Time Travel):

  Rise of a Legend

  In the Kingdom’s Name

  The Time Traveler’s Christmas

  Highland Dynasty Series:

  Knight in Highland Armor

  A Highland Knight’s Desire

  A Highland Knight to Remember

  Highland Knight of Rapture

  Highland Force Series:

  Captured by the Pirate Laird

  The Highland Henchman

  Beauty and the Barbarian

  Return of the Highland Laird

  Pict/Roman Romances:

  Rescued by the Celtic Warrior

  Celtic Maid

  Stand Alone Titles:

  The Chihuahua Affair