A federal agent in the crosshairs
Can The Security Specialists protect him?
Secret Service agent Evan Novak becomes the target of multiple hit men when someone puts a two-million-dollar bounty on his head. Is it the gunrunner he’s tracking...or a traitorous agent? Framed and wanted, Evan reluctantly accepts protection from bodyguard Jody Gallagher, his former love who lost her Agency career because of him. But then the bounty is raised to include Jody...
Gloved hands wrapped around her throat.
The hulk who had attacked Evan earlier had returned to finish the job and got her instead. He shoved her under the swirling water of the hot tub, growling that she’d cost him a lot of money and would regret it.
Fear exploded through her veins. This couldn’t be the end. Not like this.
Kicking wildly, she fought him off and clawed her way out onto the deck. But he followed, this time wielding a knife.
“Jody!” She thought she dreamed the sound of Evan’s voice. He raced across the deck, gun in hand. “Freeze,” he yelled.
The hulk in black sprinted across the backyard. Evan didn’t shoot or give chase. Instead, he ran to Jody and pulled her against his chest. “Are you hurt? Can—”
She broke away and looked into his eyes. “Evan, listen to me. You’re in big trouble.”
“Me? But you—”
She steadied herself as she uttered what she’d been fearing all along. “Someone put a hit out on you.”
Jessica R. Patch lives in the mid-South, where she pens inspirational contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. When she’s not hunched over her laptop or going on adventurous trips with willing friends in the name of research, you can find her watching way too much Netflix with her family and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. To learn more about Jessica, please visit her at jessicarpatch.com.
Books by Jessica R. Patch
Love Inspired Suspense
The Security Specialists
Deep Waters
Secret Service Setup
Fatal Reunion
Protective Duty
Concealed Identity
Final Verdict
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SECRET SERVICE SETUP
Jessica R. Patch
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.
—2 Corinthians 4:8–9
For my brother Jared. Remember that time we tied a rope to the tail of our sister’s stuffed cat and the railing on the second floor, then swung across the stairs? We fell. That inspired a scene in this book. Love you, little bro.
Special thanks to my agent Rachel Kent, my editor Shana Asaro; Susan Tuttle, you’re a brainstorming rock star; Jodie Bailey, you got me unstuck with one simple idea; Tiffany Capps for medical information (anything I stretched for fiction is on me!); and to “Mr. Anonymous” for helping me with a few Secret Service facts.
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
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DEAR READER
EXCERPT FROM TRACKING DANGER BY TERRI REED
ONE
“Do you ever feel like sometimes the sunshine is deceiving because the day is going to be ominous regardless of how bright it is?” Jody Gallagher tapped her finger on the side of her Covenant Crisis Management coffee mug while her best friend and CCM’s on-site psychologist, Cosette LaCroix, turned from the coffeepot, and her full lips—as red as the male cardinals outside—reminded Jody of a luscious makeup commercial.
“Is that how you feel?”
Jody should have known she’d get doctor-talk. Was that how she felt? A warm outer appearance, but cold inside? Maybe. She knew how to put up a good front. One could only whine and mourn over loss for so long before loved ones traded in supportiveness for speeches about moving on. Of course, said loved ones hadn’t watched their dreams burn to ash right in front of their eyes. In front of millions of eyes. She rubbed her temples. “I guess I’m dreading the day.”
“At least he called and gave you fair warning he was coming.” Cosette never said anything negative about the man Jody once loved—the man who’d single-handedly wrecked her dreams of someday becoming the youngest female Secret Service director. Dreams she’d birthed through spending time with her great-grandfather. She missed Granddaddy Flynn.
Jody-girl, one day you can be sitting right here in my chair. Doesn’t have to be Wilder or any other boy. It can be you. I think it should be, darlin’. You can do anything you want. And if you want it, work for it. Do it. Achieve it.
She should have known better than to fall for a man who played hard—too hard. Especially after what she’d witnessed in Afghanistan. But she’d fallen for him. And he’d betrayed her. She’d been fired. Humiliated. Her reputation stained. Thankfully, Granddaddy Flynn hadn’t lived to see that.
“Yeah, that was a bullet to the chest without any Kevlar kind of moment.” To hear Evan Novak’s voice after three years. She’d instantly recognized it—soft, smooth. Not a drop of grit until he laughed. He’d called to let her know he’d be in Atlanta today on protection detail for Senator Townes, who was campaigning for the primary election this coming November. A conservative in the South. Jody didn’t expect trouble, but this morning she’d woken with a ball of tar coating her gut and it had spread since she’d rolled out of bed. Maybe it was the fact that she was going to see Evan. The Covenant Crisis team was leading the private security sector today and providing one of Georgia’s wealthiest businessmen protection during the event—not that he needed it, but he was one of the largest campaign donors to Senator Townes, and if he wanted to pay them for security, then so be it.
CCM was partnering with the Secret Service, as well as local law enforcement. Jody had voluntarily piped up to be the appointed detail. She needed to prove to herself she could be around Evan with no effect, and she wanted him and her former colleagues to see she was still capable—had always been capable—of providing excellent security.
“Hey, if Wilder picks up on any of this anxiety, he’ll yank you from the op. You want that?” Cosette leaned against the counter, forcing eye contact with Jody. “Do you?”
No. Nothing would come between her and the job. She wouldn’t let Wilder down. He’d immediately given her sanctuary here at the plantation home turned agency and offered her a job, no questions asked. Not because he was her first cousin, but because he believed in her ability and ignored the lies that she’d been drinking on duty while safeguarding the vice president’s adult son, even though the evidence had been incriminating.
“I want to accomplish the mission. And I don’t want Evan Novak to emotionally affect me ever again.” She finished her coffee. “I also don’t want a couch therapy session later.”
Cosette’s dark eyes flashed, the Cajun in her making itself present in that feisty expression. “Mmm-hmm...keep telling yourself that. It’s happening.”
/> A knock on the door saved her a friendly argument. “Come in.” Wilder opened the door, looming in the doorway. Suit. Tie. “You clean up nice, cuz,” Jody said.
He flicked his gaze to Cosette. “Y’all ready to rock and roll? Lipstick perfect?” He glanced at Jody. “Gun secure?”
Cosette was coming today? It better not be as Jody’s babysitter; like she’d have an emotional meltdown in public. As if reading her thoughts, Cosette laid a hand on Jody’s. “I’ll be in the camera room, watching people and doing threat assessments.” As a body-language and criminal-behavior expert, if someone was twitchy in the crowd and up to no good, Cosette would spot them.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jody grabbed a pack of mints, tucked them in her pocket and breezed past Wilder, but he caught her arm, the playfulness in his eyes dimming. “Are you ready?” he asked with a softer tone.
What he meant was if she was ready to see Evan. “Yes.”
“Then put your A-game face on.” He released his brotherly grip and she marched outside the agency. The rest of the team, Beckett Marsh and Shepherd Lightman, were waiting by the black Suburban. Dark sunglasses hid their eyes, but she felt their stares. She might simply be paranoid. Maybe it was the tense political climate these days. Things could become dangerous. Fast. Jody’s gut turned.
At the convention center, police were already in place. They strode toward the conference room. Cosette tapped her shoulder. “You left this on the counter.” She handed her the small jar of vapor rub. She never left home without it—not with her genetic condition, hyperosmia, which heightened her olfactory senses. The vapor rub helped push out the overwhelming amount of smells that most people never noticed or couldn’t detect.
Leaving it at home affirmed she was distracted. The expression on Cosette’s face let Jody know she’d thought the same thing.
“I’m fine.” Time to pull it together.
Wilder opened the door and inside sat a half-dozen agents. Evan Novak stood front and center. Jody’s belly corkscrewed. Clean-cut, hazelnut-colored hair. Straight nose. Clear blue, hooded eyes and a smile that said he was old money, spoiled and full of mischief, but that wasn’t true. At least the first two.
Introductions were made, but Jody refrained from shaking Evan’s powerful hand. Besides, he didn’t offer. Wilder gave him a cool stare and then proceeded with the security parameters and details as well as the lineup of events. After about forty-five minutes of discussion, Jody headed to the coffee bar in the conference room.
She smelled Evan approach, his wonderful scent stamped into her memory. Cinnamon and citrus. Rain and hypoallergenic, scent-free laundry detergent—which had a subtle smell. Why would he still use that now that they weren’t together? Habit or as a courtesy for her? Having a highly increased sense of smell was a blessing and a plague. It sometimes brought on migraines and severe nausea. Right now, it helped brace herself for the encounter. She bristled.
“No sneaking up on you, is there?” he asked. “You cut your hair.”
She inhaled deeply and turned.
His eyes roamed over her hair and trailed to her face, as if he was checking to see if it matched his memory of her. “I like it.” He reached out like he was going to touch her freshly cut bob but refrained at the last second. Wise choice. She’d hate to put his behind on the ground for his colleagues to see. “I want to talk to you after the rally, if that’s okay.”
“About what?” She worked to remain calm. As if she didn’t care, as if she wasn’t still in excruciating pain over what he’d done—more like what he hadn’t done. When she’d come out of that hotel room carrying his empty booze bottles to protect him, she never expected journalists to be in the hallway, but security had been breached because Evan had mixed playing hard with working hard and, for the first time since she’d known him, compromised the job.
Her picture had been plastered all over news media sites and TV. Evan was supposed to stand up for her, but in the end he hadn’t. Probably because he’d been angry when she’d threatened to leave him if he ever pulled a stunt like drinking on the job again. But that night he’d crossed a line and knew it. They’d fought and she had charged from the room with the bottles in hand. Jody never should have covered for him, but the simple fact was, she’d loved him. And she’d wanted to help him. Evan hadn’t made mistakes like that before. Threatening to leave him would have kept him in line. Or so she thought. They’d never know now.
He’d let her go down drowning. If she kept mulling it over now, she’d never get the job done today.
“I think you know,” he said, his soft tone hypnotizing her. He’d always had that kind of power. “Can we?”
She swallowed.
“You’re hesitating. That’s a no.” He leaned down to peer into her eyes. “But we need to talk. At some point.”
Ugh. This man still knew her like he knew binary codes. And he knew those well. But he wouldn’t pass for the typical computer-geek stereotype that was represented in TV shows and movies. “Let’s just get through the day.” She bypassed him, her hand shaking.
Wilder stood at the helm. “If you’re not a praying person, you’re welcome to step out, but at CCM we pray before we do a job.” No one left the room. He nodded once and team member Beckett Marsh stepped up. Wilder always called for the prayer, but he’d never once led it. Beckett prayed for their protection, wisdom and safety for all.
The convention center was already filling up, the crowd’s conversation creating a dull roar. The backdrop bled red, white and blue. Chairs flanked the podium, which protruded front and center from the pristine stage. Excitement, concessions, sweat and hundreds of perfumes and colognes hung in the air, sending Jody’s senses into overload. She dabbed vapor rub above her upper lip to help her nose stay focused and tamp down on a possible headache.
A local official introduced Senator Townes.
“Ready, Mr. Wiseman?” she asked her client.
“Of course.”
Evan nodded and they escorted their details up the stairs to the stage. Atlanta PD worked crowd control at the stage floor. Jody adjusted her earpiece and mic as she scanned the seats padded with supporters and protestors, all holding signs that contradicted one another.
Static crackled over the earpiece, then Wilder spoke. “We’ve got a situation outside with protesters. Keep eyes on the wolf and his cub.”
“Roger that,” team member Shepherd Lightman said through the line. He was at the stage floor with law enforcement, observing with hawk-like skill.
Jody inched closer to Mr. Wiseman—the cub—as Evan and the two agents with him went on high alert. The senator continued his passionate speech on the Second Amendment, oblivious that something sinister might be going down outside.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She snatched it. Wilder.
Need you outside. East entrance.
The situation must be escalating. Waiting a beat for her position to be manned, she scanned the crowd, that ominous feeling from earlier raising hairs on her neck. No one came, but Wilder needed her. Shepherd caught her eye. Guess he’d be watching Wiseman from the floor.
She slipped from her post, aware of Evan’s scowl.
Jody weaved through the back halls to the exit doors and outside. Clearly Wilder didn’t want everyone alerted to the problem or he’d have used the mic. She was at the east entrance but only uniformed officers covered the area. It was quiet.
No situation. No problem.
Too quiet.
She bolted for the doors inside, running down the halls and back into the arena just in time to hear the first pop of gunfire.
* * *
Evan Novak sprang into action, diving on top of Senator Townes.
Another shot fired and grazed his shoulder. He winced at the burn and hollered, “Let’s go! Clear out!”
Jody flew up the stage stairs, placing herself in fron
t of him, Mr. Wiseman and the senator, gun in hand like the expert she was, but the fact that she was using her body as their shield spun him into a fit of anxiety—like it had when he’d been crazy in love with her.
Where had she been anyway? Leaving like that with no security within a foot of Mr. Wiseman?
A third shot rang out, and the crowd went even more wild, like bulls bucking and stampeding from stalls. Screams resounded over one another. People trampled each other as law enforcement worked to clear the seats and keep order.
“Are you okay, Senator?” Evan was now flanked by other agents and law enforcement.
“Egg’s hatched,” Wilder called through his mic.
Good. The car was at the door.
The senator nodded—in shock—and kept his head ducked as Evan and his team retreated to the exit. Another agent cleared the door first, then signaled. Evan shoved Senator Townes inside and climbed in beside him as Jody pressed Mr. Wiseman into the other side and accompanied him, her mouth forming a grim line.
“You’ve been shot, Agent Novak,” Senator Townes said, eyes wide.
“I’m right as rain, sir. Let’s get you out of here.” Everyone was safe right now and that’s all that mattered. When they had a moment of privacy, he’d find out why Jody left her post. That wasn’t like her, and the fact that she’d left right before the shots unsettled him.
“Where are we going?” the senator asked.
“Covenant Crisis Management. The safe point we agreed on if anything went sideways,” Jody said.
Like this.
Jody discreetly covered her nose. Everyone’s adrenaline must be pumping out some powerful and unpleasant odors. He shaded his eyes with sunglasses, not from the sun so much as the chance to observe her unnoticed. Same golden hair, only much shorter—barely brushing her neck. A smattering of freckles across a petite nose and full lips dusted in an understated pink gloss. Tomboyish and feminine wrapped up in one exquisite package. His gut tightened and he looked away.
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