Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1)

by Jannine Gallant

  Cover Copy

  He writes thrillers—she lives them.

  Recruited as a sniper by Counterstrike, a covert team who rescues kidnap victims, former Olympic biathlete Jaimee Fleming fills the void created by her tragic past with dedication and purpose. But when one of their own is killed, she is shattered by the loss and leaves the agency. Thankfully, her new life as a dog walker offers no high-stakes danger—until she witnesses a murder.

  Best-selling novelist Eli Croft doesn’t court danger—he only writes about it. But when his grandmother, the matriarch of the wealthy Croft family, is found dead, he suspects one of his relatives hired the assassin. On a mission to uncover the killer’s identity, Eli encounters Jaimee, running for her life . . .

  Jaimee fears relying on the charming and persuasive Eli could be a fatal mistake. But Eli is hard to resist, and the two join forces. With the help of her former Counterstrike teammates, Jaimee and Eli must stop a murderer before she becomes the next victim. If she lives long enough, will Jaimee let go of her past and trust Eli with her future?

  “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

  “The novel’s best quality is the relationship between Nina and Teague…A pleasing romantic story.”—Kirkus Reviews 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

  Siren Cove Novels

  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

  Road To Serendipity

  An Uncertain Destiny

  A Deadly Love

  Bittersweet

  FATAL ENCOUNTER

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Fatal Encounter

  Copyright © 2019 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: May 2019

  First Print Edition: May 2019

  ISBN-13: 9781093270921

  Dedication

  To every reader who has enjoyed my books or left a glowing review.

  You are the reason I write. You make me smile. Thank you.

  Prologue

  The mission had disintegrated into a shitstorm of epic proportions.

  Jaimee Fleming gripped the rough trunk of the palm tree with her cleated boots while sighting down the barrel of her rifle through the infrared scope. Slowly she squeezed the trigger. With the silencer, only a muffled piffft sounded before she moved to the next target. A bullet whizzed past her cheek. Without flinching, she adjusted her aim to take out the source. Piffft.

  There were more heavily-armed combatants in the compound than the team had anticipated. Hence, the current cluster. Either the intel had been wrong, or the kidnappers were tipped off. Either way, quietly rescuing the vice president’s godson from the encampment where he was being held had evolved into a herculean effort.

  Not that anyone on the taskforce would turn tail and run. Counterstrike got the job done. Period.

  Her nose twitched from the earthy scent of rotting vegetation, while sweat dampened her back as the extreme humidity made drawing each breath difficult. She ignored all the distractions and squeezed the trigger again. Piffft.

  “You got us covered, Scarlet?” The calm voice came through her earpiece. Wolf was always cool under pressure.

  “Working on it.”

  “That’ll have to be good enough,” he responded. Gunfire erupted over the receiver. “We’re on our way out.”

  “Copy that.”

  Across the clearing, the exterior metal door of the building swung open, crashing against the corrugated wall. Patch appeared first, identifiable by his thinner build and fluid movements in the greenish light of her infrared scope. The team’s medic lobbed an explosive toward a collection of oil drums.

  From her perch, Jaimee scanned the perimeter for marks as the device detonated in a fireball of flames and smoke. Piffft.

  Following close behind Patch, Coffee took advantage of the distraction and ran full out in a zig-zag pattern, despite the deadweight of the man slung over his shoulder. Wolf exited the building last, covering their rear with a burst of shots as two more guerrilla soldiers raced out of the hanger.

  They had a hundred yards of open ground to traverse before reaching the protection of the trees, then another quarter mile on a narrow path through dense vegetation to the pick-up point on the landing strip. Over a sudden blast of gunfire from the rooftop, Jaimee detected the faint drone of the chopper, even as her heartbeat slowed and her hands steadied. She picked off another target. Piffft.

  Did I get them all?

  A flash to her left caught her eye as a shot echoed. Bel
ow her, Coffee went down only a few yards from relative safety.

  Noooooooo. The silent scream reverberated in her head as she sighted and pulled the trigger. Piffft. She didn’t need the thud of a body hitting the jungle floor below to confirm the kill. She never missed.

  Barely slowing his stride, Wolf bent to heave the man they’d come to rescue over his shoulder before motioning to Patch. The medic ran back to lift Coffee into his arms while Jaimee shimmied down the palm to the ground. Seconds later, she reached the rest of her team.

  “Go, Scarlet. I’ve got him.”

  After a brief hesitation, her training kicked in, and she followed orders. With a nod, she sprinted after Wolf toward the chopper hovering above the landing strip. The Huey lowered to the stretch of packed earth hacked out of the jungle. Palm fronds whipped back and forth in the powerful draft but couldn’t begin to compete with the storm raging inside her.

  Covering the final distance at a pace that would have thrilled her old track coach, Jaimee clambered aboard the craft and turned to help ease Coffee into the open interior. Patch had just hoisted himself up onto the metal floor beside her when the chopper lifted off.

  She forced out words that nearly choked her. “Is he . . .”

  The medic ripped open his patient’s jacket. “He’s in bad shape. Toss me that bag behind you. I need to get pressure on this wound.”

  Jaimee handed him the first aid kit, knowing Patch would ask for additional help if he needed it. Aching to do something—anything but vainly sit there—she reached out to hold her unconscious colleague’s hand. Calloused fingers that could deftly stroke the strings of a guitar—and on one occasion the side of her breast—were limp within her grasp. In the dim glow from the interior lights, she locked gazes with Wolf. Their team leader’s rugged face beneath black paint looked like it was carved from stone. Neither spoke as Patch worked frantically to save the man they all loved.

  Only Jaimee’s feelings went far deeper than brotherhood and camaraderie.

  A minute later, the doc sat back on his heels and shook his head.

  Jaimee suppressed a cry as she tightened her grip on Coffee’s hand. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the side of the vibrating beast carrying them high over the jungle. Her chest constricted with a pain so intense breathing became a challenge. She wouldn’t let the tears fall, wouldn’t give in to the anguish tearing her apart. She wouldn’t show she was soft. Weak.

  “You’d better see what you can do for Boylston, Patch. It looks like they roughed him up pretty badly.” Wolf’s voice was even gruffer than usual.

  Patch bumped against her feet in the tight quarters as he shifted position to reach the man they’d rescued at the cost of losing one of their own.

  A life saved, and a life gone. When she opened eyes burning with unshed tears, her gaze came to rest on Coffee’s still face. He’d never smile at her again or laugh at one of their inside jokes. He’d never show her with a single glance how special she was to him. A shudder racked her body as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. She’d allowed herself to care about him more than she should have, and now she’d pay the price.

  Not the first time she’d lost someone she loved. But this time would be the last.

  No more letting fear eat at her soul, worrying another mission might end in disaster. No more putting her heart on the line. The risk wasn’t worth the reward.

  She was finished. With all of it.

  Chapter One

  Jaimee stopped at the wide-open gates to the Croft estate and held her ground, despite the three dogs tugging on the ends of their leashes.

  “Easy, Rocky. Sit.” When the Rottweiler dropped to his butt on the concrete pavers, the beagle and poodle followed suit.

  She took a moment to survey the situation. Normally the big gates were locked tight, and she rang the buzzer at the pedestrian entrance to gain access. Not once in the month since Maureen Croft had hired her to walk Watson had Jamie noticed a single visitor at the huge, neo-classical home. Today, the long driveway was lined with expensive vehicles. While she was tempted to turn around and avoid the need to put on a polite, social face, she had a job to do.

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” she muttered beneath her breath before clicking her tongue to give the dogs permission to rise. “We’re going in.”

  Marching her canine posse between posh sports cars and more subdued but equally overpriced luxury sedans, she finally reached the long front portico with its free-standing Doric columns. The sound of multiple conversations drifted from the open windows on either side of the massive front door. Apparently, her elderly client was holding quite a party.

  Jaimee instructed her charges to sit and dropped the leashes before she pressed the doorbell and waited. When no one responded after a full minute, she pushed down on the latch, gave the oak portal a shove . . . and nearly tumbled into the arms of the man standing on the threshold.

  “Easy.” He gripped her shoulders to steady her and smiled.

  The fact that he’d cautioned her with the same word she used to calm the dogs wasn’t lost on Jaimee. She nearly smiled back before he released her, leaving warm impressions where his fingers had been.

  “Can I help you?” He regarded her with quizzical blue eyes that showed not a hint of recognition.

  Eli Croft hadn’t changed much in the dozen years since she’d last seen him in person. If anything, he was more attractive now than he’d been in his early twenties. Tall . . . he had several inches on her own five-nine stature. Dark . . . a tanned complexion that told her he didn’t spend all his time indoors complemented brown hair the color of rich molasses. Short and a little spiky on top. Definitely handsome . . . a strong jaw and finely cut lips surrounded by a short stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave made Jaimee’s stomach flutter. The fact that he was her type shouldn’t matter in the least since she’d sworn off men completely six months before.

  Firmly squashing any fangirl tendencies, she looked him in the eye. “I’m here to pick up Watson.”

  A frown creased his brow. “I’m afraid I don’t know a Watson. Are you sure you have the right address?”

  “She means my dog, for Christ’s sake, Eli. I thought you were the smart one.” Maureen Croft rolled up in her electric wheelchair and stopped.

  Watson trotted behind her and squeezed between the man in the doorway and his mistress’s chair. The petit basset griffon Vendéen greeted his doggy pals with excited barks, looking so adorable Jaimee’s heart melted a little.

  “I am the smart one. My bad for thinking she meant an actual person.”

  Eli flashed another smile that continued to thaw areas south of Jaimee’s heart. She backed up a step.

  The elderly woman tilted her head, pressing silver-gray hair twisted in a tight bun against the chairback. “Your fans or groupies or whatever you call them may be charmed by that smile, Eli, but I’m immune. Make yourself useful and go get Watson’s leash. It should be hanging in the cabinet in the library where I keep all his toys.”

  “You’re not immune, Grandma. You just pretend to be.” Those eyes, the same blue as the cloudless sky on this brisk spring morning, sparkled with humor. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Eli thinks he’s God’s gift to women.” Maureen didn’t bother to lower her voice or wait to speak until her grandson was out of earshot. “Not that he isn’t the best of the lot. The whole family is in there eating and drinking while they wait for the reading of the will, like a flock of damn vultures.” Pain edged her sharp tone and glittered in her dark eyes.

  “Maybe now isn’t the best time for me to walk Watson,” Jaimee suggested softly.

  “Why not? No reason for his schedule to be disrupted. We could have gotten this fiasco over with after Henry’s funeral last month, but there were a few issues I needed to mull over first.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Maureen. Truly. I know what it’s like to feel alone in a crowded room.”

  “I appreciate that.” She whe
eled herself backward a few feet when her grandson approached with the red leather leash in hand. “I suppose I should introduce the two of you. Eli, this is Jaimee Fleming. Watson absolutely adores her. Jaimee, Henry’s grandson, Eli Croft. He writes spy novels. You may have heard of him if you read that sort of thing.” Her pursed lips made it clear she didn’t.

  Jaimee shook the hand Eli extended. “I’m familiar with your books.”

  “Good to hear.” He glanced behind her at the four dogs sitting patiently on the stone pathway. “Watson has excellent tastes. You’re a professional dog walker?”

  “I exercise them for my clients. I also offer obedience classes.”

  “It’s amazing how well Watson listens to her. He’s had a little trouble adjusting since Henry died. He was having behavior issues before Jaimee straightened him out.” Maureen gripped the arms of her chair as a burst of feminine laughter came from the living room to the right of the huge entry hall. “Too bad people can’t be trained to act with a little more decorum.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Eli patted his grandmother’s narrow shoulder. “I’ll be the first to admit I can barely tolerate half my relatives. Too much money turns some people into morons.”

  “Says the man who’s always at the top of the New York Times bestseller list,” Jaimee muttered.

  He turned a suddenly laser-sharp focus in her direction. Apparently, there was nothing wrong with his hearing. “At least I earned my millions. It makes a difference.”

  “He has a point,” Maureen agreed. “While I would prefer to stay out here and chat with you, Jaimee, Henry’s shyster-in-chief should be ready to get this circus started.”