Rikki stood amid the dead men, her face composed, her dark hair blowing in the breeze.
Slade, who’d been stationed in one of the trees, closest to the schloss, ran onto the scene and grabbed Rikki and pulled her away. Vlad could still have reinforcements nearby, but the head of the snake had been chopped off.
Josh cackled from the museum. “I got him, boys. I got that bald-headed bastard.”
Ariel winked at Quinn. “No, you didn’t, Elliott. Vlad was mine. He was always going to be mine.”
Epilogue
Quinn held a sleeping Bella in the crook of his arm as he stood on the hotel room’s balcony next to Miguel’s son, Mikey, and RJ, the son of Josh’s girlfriend, Gina.
RJ squirmed. “When are the fireworks?”
“Another half hour, buddy.” Quinn patted his head.
Josh swept up the boy and put him on his shoulders. “You can watch from up here when they start.”
Gina came up behind them and wrapped one arm around Josh’s waist as she tugged on RJ’s foot. “Patience. I’m going to get you and Mikey some more food.”
Miguel scooped up Mikey. “You hungry?”
Jennifer, Miguel’s wife, hovered next to both of them. “I think he’s been stuffing his face with beignets all day. You need to eat something, too, doesn’t he, Quinn?”
Miguel rolled his eyes at Quinn. “She thinks I’m gonna break.”
Quinn slugged Miguel in the arm. “This guy’s unbreakable.”
He cuddled Bella against his shoulder and strolled into the hotel suite where the childless couples had gathered, drinking more than the parents and anticipating the fireworks less.
Austin’s girlfriend, Sophia, sat on the arm of his chair, excitedly making a point by grabbing his arm, the diamond in the side of her nose catching the light.
Austin shrugged. “I think that’s a good idea, Sophia.”
Quinn grinned and elbowed Slade. “The kid might be young, but he catches on quickly.”
Slade winked. “I taught him everything he knows about women.”
“I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for that.” He pointed at Slade’s girlfriend, Nicole, deep in discussion with Alexei. “What are those two cooking up?”
“The mad Russian has Nicole convinced that she needs to do a documentary film on the crime families of Russia.”
“Do you want me to stop him?”
“Nicole will do exactly what she wants, but Alexei’s girl, Britt, can keep him in line.” Slade waved at Britt, and she shrugged, a smile curving her lips, as she stroked Alexei’s hair. “She even has Alexei on board for adopting the orphaned baby of his worst enemy.”
Slade cranked his head from side to side. “Did you invite Ariel, or should I say, Mrs. West?”
“I did invite her, but she and the secretary are at the White House for the fireworks.” Quinn checked his watch. “Probably already saw them.”
“Did Rikki ever tell you how or why Ariel knew Vlad?”
Rikki swooped in on them and kissed the bottom of Bella’s foot. “That’s Ariel’s business.”
Slade raised his eyebrows. “But you know.”
“I’m a CIA agent, sailor.” Rikki drew her fingertip across the seam of her lips.
Slade laughed and crouched beside his sleek, polished girlfriend as she grabbed his hand and began to tell him about her new project in Russia.
Rikki patted the bandage on Quinn’s shoulder. “Feeling okay?”
“It aches. My doctor was not happy when I told him about that shot I got that allowed me to hoist my rifle.”
“But you nailed your target...and I’m glad you did.”
“Dawson was going for a gun, Rikki. He was going to kill you for betraying him.”
“I know that.” She kissed his shoulder. “You don’t have to defend yourself. I don’t think Belinda Dawson was too upset by the turn of events, either. The CIA already talked to her, and they’re going light on her.”
“What about my buddy Jeff? Did Ariel tell you what was going on in New Orleans?”
“Purely bad luck. That was the Agency on his tail. They noted his suspicious movements and were tracking him. Seems after that Rikki Taylor turned, the CIA got jumpy.”
“Can you blame them?” He tugged on a lock of her red hair. “Did you know which one was Vlad before we opened fire and Ariel killed him?”
“No. I was being introduced around. David never gave away Vlad’s identity. I don’t think I would’ve ever known. Each of those men at the schloss planned to join us for the meeting, so I never would’ve known which one was Vlad.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe David was stupid enough to put details of Vlad’s hideaway in his book. I’m sure he never told Vlad about that.”
“Like I said, hubris. Dawson was the only one who’d come close enough to Vlad, outside of Vlad’s inner circle, who even knew he had that hunting lodge by the lake.”
“Tobias Bauer. His name is not Vlad.” Alexei stood up and uttered some oath in Russian. “Let’s not give him that power anymore.”
Nicole asked, “But who was he exactly? Can you tell us that?”
Quinn glanced at Josh and shrugged. “The intelligence agencies are still figuring that out, but we know he was a child of about ten in East Germany when the Berlin Wall fell. He and his mother moved to the more prosperous cities of West Germany during the reunification, but she died soon after and Toby, as he was called, took to the streets—stealing, hustling, getting in trouble with the authorities.”
Austin’s girlfriend slid into his lap and said, “He had my friend killed. How did he become a terrorist?”
“And where did he learn how to shoot?” Jennifer, Miguel’s wife, shooed the kids back onto the balcony with Rikki’s mother and stepfather.
Slade answered, “He learned how to shoot in the forest. He became an excellent marksman and started hiring himself out as a mercenary.”
“And a master of disguise.” Miguel put his arm around his wife. “I may have even seen him when I was held in those caves. Nobody really knew what he looked like.”
“Except Ariel.” Austin cleared his throat and glanced at Rikki.
“As more is discovered about him, his terrorist network will be dismantled.” Josh raised his glass. “To the fall of Tobias Bauer and the protection of innocents everywhere.”
A boom echoed from outside and RJ dashed into the room from the balcony. “The fireworks. The fireworks.”
Quinn tucked his sleeping daughter into a bassinet and took Rikki’s hand. She squeezed his hand and they kissed before joining everyone on the balcony.
While holding on to the woman he loved, Quinn watched the exploding colors reflected in the faces of his teammates. One by one, he met their eyes and nodded, a silent affirmation among them all that they’d do anything to protect the people gathered here and to protect the red, white and blue.
* * * * *
Look for more books by Carol Ericson
featuring military heroes later in 2018.
And don’t miss the previous titles in the
RED, WHITE AND BUILT series:
LOCKED, LOADED AND SEALED
ALPHA BRAVO SEAL
BULLSEYE: SEAL
POINT BLANK SEAL
SECURED BY THE SEAL
Available now from Harlequin Intrigue!
Keep reading for an excerpt from SURROGATE ESCAPE by Jenna Kernan.
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MILITARY K-9 UNIT
These soldiers track down a serial killer with the help of their brave canine partners!
An exciting prequel to the Military K-9 Unit series
Tracking Danger by Terri Reed
Sheriff’s Deputy Serena Evans knows her trusty K-9 partner Ginger can track down the serial killer who is tormenting her Texas town...if only her boss would give her the chance. When they trace him to Jason Hargrove’s land, Serena and Ginger will have to team up with the reclusive rancher in order to get their man.
Collect the complete series:
Mission to Protect by Terri Reed, April 2018
Bound by Duty by Valerie Hansen, May 2018
Top Secret Target by Dana Mentink, June 2018
Standing Fast by Maggie K. Black, July 2018
Rescue Operation by Lenora Worth, August 2018
Explosive Force by Lynette Eason, September 2018
Battle Tested by Laura Scott, October 2018
Valiant Defender by Shirlee McCoy, November 2018
Military K-9 Unit Christmas by Valerie Hansen and Laura Scott, December 2018
Available wherever books and ebooks are sold.
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www.LoveInspired.com
Surrogate Escape
by Jenna Kernan
Prologue
Why did the cramping continue even after she had delivered the baby? She waited out of sight, watching the road for the return of Officer Redhorse. It was cold, so she kept the wiggling girl inside her jacket against her skin, allowing her to suck. That was what babies liked, to be on their mother’s skin. Only, she wasn’t its mother. She’d seen enough of her brothers and sisters come home from the hospital to know that Apache babies did not have blond hair.
Finally, she spotted his squad car as he made the turn toward their street. Even in the predawn, she could make out the familiar dark, round image on the white panel of the door that she knew was the tribe’s great seal. There was no time to reach his front step now. He was driving too fast, and she’d never make it back to cover before he spotted her. So she rushed from the tree line only as far as the back of his pickup, intending to wrap the baby in her own coat.
Climbing up onto the bumper was difficult with the use of only one hand. She glanced to the road. He was nearly here. She saw something in the truck bed, a garment, and she snatched it up, then bundled the little girl inside the fleece and laid her gently on the bed of the truck. If he didn’t see the baby, she’d come back and get her, leave her on his doorstep, knock and run.
Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
She draped one sleeve of the men’s fleece jacket over the gate of the pickup bed and jumped down. The jolt of the landing made her hurt all over and she gave a sharp cry. She grabbed her middle with both hands as she hurried back to cover just as he made the turn into his driveway.
In the brush between the two houses, the girl pressed a hand to her mouth. Something was happening. Her body was clenching again as if she were still in labor. The cramp went all the way around her middle.
The door to Officer Redhorse’s squad car opened and he stood, glancing around and then straight at her. She sank back. He’d seen her. Any second now he’d come over here and arrest her. She whimpered, choking the pain back far in her throat. Something issued from between her legs. She glanced down at the quivering purple thing. What was that? She poked at it and then stood. The umbilical cord that had still been attached to her body between her legs was fixed to the thing. It looked like her liver. She wondered if she would die without the organ. Clearly something inside had torn loose. But the bleeding was slowing.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew how girls got pregnant, and she knew she’d never done anything like that with a boy. Yet she’d given birth to a baby. Could someone have done that to her while she was sleeping?
No, that just wasn’t possible. Was it?
She looked back toward the driveway. Redhorse carried something in his arms as he disappeared into his home.
The girl staggered out once more and checked the truck. The baby was gone. She breathed a sigh and then turned toward home, her insides cramping, her legs trembling from the effort of bringing the baby into the world.
She crept away, holding her aching, sagging middle with both hands. No one was awake yet when she reached the bathroom to clean up. She was careful not to get blood on any of the towels. It was likely that her mother would not notice, or would blame the stain on her monthly cycle. Still, she could not take the chance.
With the amount of beer her mother had consumed, she knew that she wouldn’t be up for hours. But her brothers and sisters would need to be fed. She’d stay long enough to do that, at least.
After removing her coat and shucking out of her shirt, she noticed the bloody imprint of the infant on her side. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She couldn’t keep the baby. Not when someone wanted it badly enough to come to her house looking for her.
She had hidden the pregnancy and escaped the creepy pair who stalked her, even dropping out of school to avoid them. But they knew. Somehow, they knew about the pregnancy even before she did. Would they stop now?
Maybe if she showed up somewhere in something that proved she was no longer pregnant—but then they might wonder where it had gone. She finished washing and then headed back outside. The newborn was not her flesh. But she still needed to protect her. She would go see what Officer Redhorse was doing and make sure the baby was safe.
She’d stay long enough to do that, at least. Then she would run like Elsie. She had to, because they would come back. They always came back.
Chapter One
Officer Jake Redhorse turned into his driveway and caught movement in his periphery by the line of pine and sticker bushes to his left. The fatigue must be affecting his vision, because when he turned toward his neighbor’s yard, there was nothing there.
Jake put his police unit into Park in the usual place, behind his silver F-150 pickup. That was when he noticed the red cloth hanging out of the back of his truck bed. That had not been there when he’d pulled in from his last shift sometime Thursday night, which was two days ago. Shifts had been unpredictable since the dam breech.
He stared at the red fleece. Someone had been messing with his truck.
“They better not have busted into my tools,” he muttered and left his police unit, using his fob to lock the car. He needed to remove the shotgun and his personal gear from the trunk and take them inside, but first he had to see what the vandals had done to his vehicle.
Since the collapse of the Skeleton Cliff Dam just this week, there was an uptick in petty crime, including a number of break-ins of the houses left behind in the ongoing relocation effort, and apparently being a cop did not exempt him from vandalism.
&nb
sp; His small police force of seven struggled to keep order and so, five days after the explosion, his tribal council voted to accept the help of the National Guard to keep order in the tribal seat in Piñon Forks. The council also agreed to allow FEMA to provide temporary housing for the low-lying communities along the river. And now the Army Corps of Engineers was helping plan a more stable temporary dam to support the pile of rubble that had stopped the water and saved his people. But the outsiders were not allowed to venture past the river town. So his small police force was stretched over the two remaining communities of Turquoise Ridge and Koun’nde, on the Turquoise Canyon Apache Reservation, where he lived. Even with outsider help, his shifts were still way too long.
“Ah, not my drill,” he said, hope butting up against apprehension.
When Jake left his vehicle and approached the tailgate of his truck, he had the distinct feeling of being watched. A sweeping search of his surroundings showed no one. But the hairs on his neck remained raised like the scruff of a barking dog. He could still see his breath in the cool mountain air. Late September was like that here. Cold nights. Warm, dry days.
“Hello?” he called and received no answer but the autumn wind. Jake turned his collar up against the chill.
He glanced over the tailgate into the truck bed, now recognizing the red cloth. It was a polar-fleece jacket his mother had given him. He disliked red for several reasons—for one, it reminded him of a target, which, as a police officer, he already was, and for another, it reminded him of the iconic red trade cloth his people, the Tonto Apache, had once tied around their foreheads to keep the Anglos from shooting them by accident during the Apache Wars. His tribe had fought with the US Army in that one. Finally, the cloth reminded him of Lori Mott, as it was her favorite color.
The jacket was wet. He glanced down at the fabric, which was wrapped around something. At first he thought it was a child’s doll. Then the doll moved.
Jake jumped back, hand going automatically to his service weapon, a .45 caliber, as his brain tried to make sense of what he had seen. He had his flashlight out in a moment and shone it on the bundle.
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