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eBook Category: Romance/Suspense/Thriller
eBook Description: Secret Agencies. Covert Operations. Terrorist Plots. These are all just things Detective Derek Holden read about in newspapers and novels--not something he ever imagined getting involved in. So he isn't prepared for what he will encounter once he decides to take on a simple request...to save Grace. Grace Wesley has been caught up in a very dangerous game for the last six years. She is accustomed to fighting her own battles alone, to looking over her shoulder every minute of every day. But when Derek Holden shows up and turns her world upside down by refusing to back down, she realizes for the first time that she isn't alone. And that, just maybe, she can end this deadly game once and for all. Drawn mysteriously together by a force seemingly beyond their control, setting out on a journey that will test their souls, their courage, and the will to survive, they form an indestructible bond. Derek and Grace become friends and confidants, relying on each other for their very survival. Attraction pulls them together, allowing them to find solace in each other's arms. But in the end, will love be the ultimate saving grace for both? Rating: PG-13 (adult language)

eBook Publisher: Scheherazade Tales Romance E-Novels, Published: 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2004

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [256 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [231 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [221 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.3 MB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [248 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [190 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [256 KB] , hiebook (KML) [575 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [279 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [203 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [255 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [279 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [336 KB]
Words: 78710
Reading time: 224-314 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Thick fog began claiming the vacant street--an eerie foreboding of what was to come. She could feel the goose bumps rise on her chilled flesh and the hair on her neck stand up. It was at times like this that she wished she could run, just run and run and never look back. But that wasn't possible now. Not now. She was in too deep. There was no turning back, and no second chances. She had to stand her ground and follow through.

His shadow caught her eye as he came around the corner, his face illuminated by the iridescent glow of the streetlight. He was devilishly handsome with thick brown hair and gorgeous green eyes that reminded her of a stalking feline. His stare could bore a hole straight through her, could make her body turn to sweltering lava in the matter of a second. His body was a chiseled work of art, the fine lines of his torso and broad shoulders defined against the pull of the black cotton shirt he wore, his long lean legs evident in the snug black trousers. The man was beautiful and utterly dangerous...and she had wanted him more than anything or anyone she could ever remember.

Despite Logan Connor's chiseled jaw line and stern glare, she had learned all too quickly that there was a sweet and loving side to him as well. It had been her own fault that she had fallen so hard for the man she was supposed to be bringing down. She knew his character, had read his profile. She knew for a fact that Logan Connor was no innocent. He was a cold-blooded killer, a mass murderer with no speck of remorse. Despite all that, she couldn't help but become close to him. There was something about him that drew her in like a fish on a reel.

God help her!

She focused her eyes, squinting as she held the binoculars up to her temple. Her gaze scanned the small army of men that had exited the dilapidated warehouse behind him. All were big burly men that, even with her training, she feared would be able to decimate her small force. The group of laughing warriors was fearsome and intimidating. And, worst of all, they were a deadly combination--all of them desperados with only one thing on their minds: destroying the shelter and solace of millions of innocent men, women, and children. They were all in it for the glory, and the gore was just a means to an end. They wanted their moment to shine and would stop at nothing for their flash of spotlight.

Her eyes fixed on the husky man that strode up to Logan's side. Garrett Connor was far from attractive, with his overwhelmingly massive red hair and the unkempt beard that covered most of his lower face, those sinister brown eyes that could cause the bravest man to cower. His mouth was as foul as his disposition and he scared the shit out of her most of the time.

Garrett was out of control of his emotions and hell-bent on sheer destruction. And what made him even more dangerous was that he firmly believed in his cause--and the fact that the Russian Government promised to pay him and Logan a hefty amount of money if they carried through with their next big plan. Like his brother Logan, Garrett was in it for revenge, for blood.

She couldn't help but gasp as her attention fell to the busty blonde walking arm in arm with Garrett. There was something about Veronica Chambers that she didn't trust. The girl was just too good at what she did. Getting close to the Connor brothers had seemed exceedingly easy. The way she brushed her breasts against Garrett's arm as she gave Logan a sultry smile with her blood-red lips was almost overly indulgent. Veronica was enjoying what she was doing more than she should.

And she couldn't help but feel a contemptible stab of jealousy over the way Logan's hand slid down to the small of Veronica's back, caressing her gently with his long fingers as he pulled her by his side.

She remembered the way those masculine hands had touched her bare skin, had caused her body to explode with emotion that had previously been tame and innocent. He had forced her to open her eyes to a world that she feared, a world of desire and passion. Logan Connor had stoked a flame inside of her that she had not known existed. He had left her yearning for more and dependent on his caresses and his touch.

Suddenly a small hand brushed against her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin. Turning to the girl, she gave her a warning glance before returning to the binoculars. She didn't want to think anymore--or feel. She just wanted to finish the job she had come here to do and go home.

She wanted to forget about Logan Connor and the emotions that he had stirred inside of her. She wanted to go back to the place in her life where everything made sense, where the only person she had to worry about was herself. She just wanted to go home...

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gretchen Lewis squirm to get comfortable. She was plain-looking with mousy brown hair that hung straight as a stick down to the middle of her back. The young woman had definitely put on a little weight now that she was unable to get her daily fix of heroin on a regular basis. Gretchen might not be much to look at, but she had a computer brain that had proved more than useful during the last year.

Gretchen pushed the thick black-rimmed glasses further up her nose and stared at her with expectant brown eyes. She just pretended to not notice Gretchen's stare and continued to watch the scene play out below them.

"Grace," Gretchen whispered.

Grace Wesley set the binoculars away from her and stared at the annoying girl through angry cobalt eyes. "What?" she spat irritably in her brusque Australian accent as she ran a hand over her short spiky black hair.

"What's going on down there?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders before placing the binoculars back to her eyes and whispering, "Nothing...yet."

Suddenly she heard a crackling noise come over her earpiece and she placed her finger over her lips to indicate for Gretchen to be quiet.

"Gracie," the breathless southern drawl came over the line.

"Go ahead, Bethany."

"The explosives are in place. But you can't detonate yet."

"Why not?"

"Ronnie is still too damn close. I tried to tell her to get out of there but she's not responding."

Grace hit the button on her binoculars to magnify as she zoomed in on Veronica. "Damn it!" she cursed angrily. "She's not wearing her earpiece."

"Why the hell not?" Bethany's astonished voice boomed in her ear.

"Because she's defected," another feminine voice with a heavy Brooklyn accent said matter-of-factly.

"Deana?" Grace asked with a sharp edge.

"I heard her talking to Garrett and Logan while I was planting the bombs inside the warehouse. She's defected. We need to get the hell out of here before she gets us all killed."

"Why would she do something crazy like that?" Bethany asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Deana was quiet for a long moment before she groaned. "Come on, Grace. Give the word. I'm not ready to die yet, especially in this rotten hellhole."

Grace thought quietly about what Deana had said. Could it be that Veronica Chambers had joined the other side? Ronnie was always whatever anyone wanted her to be. And she had been the first to admit that she didn't feel like she owed her country anything for using her the way that it did.

But had she in fact turned traitor? Had she turned her back on her own country, on the four other girls who had been put in the very same predicament that she had been?

Grace just wasn't sure. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that made her think that it was entirely possible. She had known from the beginning to never underestimate any of the girls. They were criminals who owed no loyalty to anyone but themselves.

Surely Veronica wouldn't be so self-centered as to rat out the group. They all hadn't done anything to deserve her betrayal. In fact they were all in the same dilemma she was in. None of them wanted to be there and all of them were praying for it to end so that they could get their lives back.

"What's going on?" Gretchen insisted as she held her hand over the computer key that would set the entire warehouse up in rubble and flames.

Grace looked at Gretchen long and hard before she made her decision. She spoke low into the mouthpiece. "Bethany?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you away from the target?"

"Far and away, Gracie girl."

"What about you, Deana?"

"Far enough."

"We're going to blow the target and abort the mission. Remember the rendezvous location and meet there in twenty-four hours. But don't show up if you're not clear. Do you understand? Abort mission."

"Loud and clear," Deana sighed before her line was replaced with fuzz.

"Bethany?"

"I'm out," Bethany chimed before her line went dead as well.

Grace turned to Gretchen who was getting a little bit anxious. "Blow it," she said and watched Gretchen tap the computer key.

The building went up in a cloud of fire, smoke and debris as Grace watched through the binoculars from their vantage point on the roof of a building about a block away. She saw the group of men and Veronica run for cover. She kept the binoculars trained on the fifth member of their group. When Veronica said something to Logan and pointed in the direction of the rooftop where Grace and Gretchen were, Grace dropped the binoculars and stood up, grabbing Gretchen by the collar of her shirt and yanking her to her feet.

"My computer," Gretchen grumbled as Grace pulled her away.

"Forget the damn computer. We've been made. We have to get out of here."

Grace continued to pull Gretchen along as they dashed down the fire escape. Grace's feet were the first to hit solid ground. She helped Gretchen down and the two girls made a run for it. Grace made sure that Gretchen was a step ahead of her as they raced around buildings and through alleys. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her fear--Garrett was gaining on them.

Grace only urged Gretchen harder. Finally they ran out of escape route as a six-foot high wire fence bordered off the alley they had rushed into. Grace helped Gretchen scale the fence, and once her friend was safely on the other side, Grace made an attempt at it. But Garrett had closed the gap.

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her down to the ground in a hard thud. Before Grace could get to her feet, she felt Garrett's foot kick her square in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of her. She heard Gretchen scream and mustered enough strength from the blow to yell for Gretchen to keep moving.

Then Grace pulled herself to her feet and stared at Garrett obstinately. "I'm not going to make this easy for you," she warned with feigned courage.

"Good," Garrett growled as he lunged for her.

Just as he was about to make contact, Grace braced herself and pulled her pistol out of the back of her jeans and aimed it at Garrett's chest. She heard the gun go off, watched as Garrett halted in his tracks, a wide-eyed incredulous look on his face, and crumple to the ground.

He was dead; she knew it in her heart. It hadn't been her intention to kill Logan's brother although she was sure he would have killed her without a moment's hesitation. Realizing that the deed was done and there was not a thing she could do about it now, she jumped on the fence and hoisted herself up.

She made it to the top and straddled it to go over, then heard the familiar sultry Irish lilt.

"Grace?"

She paused only for a second, her eyes meeting the man's she had shared intimate moments with. Logan looked down at his dead brother, then back to Grace. His handsome, expressive face exploded with hurt, betrayal, and then anger.

She could tell by the glimmering hardness in his green eyes that Logan would have his revenge. Regardless of what they had once shared, he would stop at nothing to find her and make her pay for killing his brother.

But she didn't have time to dwell on the repercussions of her actions. She had to flee. Grace gave him one long last glance before lifting her other leg over the fence and dropping down to the ground. She didn't spare a single backward look over her shoulder as she ran.

Gretchen Lewis double-checked the alley to make sure she hadn't been followed, then ducked into the abandoned building where she had taken up shelter--such as it was. She hunched down as she climbed through the partially rotted board that was meant to keep people like her out. The rain leaked in around her, but she didn't care.

She sauntered over to the damp mattress and sat down. The stale stench didn't even bother her anymore. All of her senses had automatically turned off a long time ago.

Reaching under the mattress, she pulled out a tourniquet and a small box. Gretchen rolled up the left sleeve of her shirt and tied the cord around her upper arm, using her teeth to tighten it. She stared at the fresh trail marks on her skin from her wrist up. Quickly she found a vein and flicked it with her finger, then reached down to flip open the box. She filled the needle from the vial that lay right beside it, then inserted the needle into her arm.

Gretchen closed her eyes as the drug took effect. Her skin began to tingle, her mind fogged, and Gretchen drifted off into welcome but short-lived euphoria. She felt nothing--for she was numb. Her mind was a jumbled mess of unformed thoughts and emotions. She simply took pleasure in the lack of sensation. It was easier not to feel anything at all.

The peeling paint on the walls blurred until it looked like a work of modern art. The steady pounding of rain and loud drip of water seeping through the holes in the dilapidated roof were like music to her ears. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as thunder echoed through the night.

Gretchen curled into a ball on top of the mattress and watched the lightning play shadows across the floor. This was not a new experience for her. It also was not something that she was proud of. But the first time she had ever shot heroin into her veins had been exhilarating.

She had felt the most amazing sensations go through her body, and her mind had completely shut down. She hadn't been sad but she hadn't been happy either. She had been impassive. And like countless others looking for a quick and easy escape from life's sometimes harsh reality, she had become hooked.

Gretchen closed her eyes and felt her body floating in midair. She imagined herself flying in the heavens with the birds, diving and soaring without any real fear. She felt the sun warm her shoulders and reached out to touch the white clouds with her fingertips.

But just as quickly as the peaceful images had come, they disappeared, and were replaced by nightmarish shadows and the feeling of some deadly menace waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

As if suddenly jolted by a bolt of lightning, she pulled herself off of the mattress and stumbled back out of the building. The rain poured heavier than before, running down her face and blurring her vision. Hot and cold washed over her as she staggered down the sidewalk. Her mind was chaotic and wild, her breathing erratic.

She picked her pace up to a jog and then a run. It was as if she was trying to outmaneuver some danger looming behind her. She kept glancing over her shoulder wildly as she darted in and out of traffic. Loud car horns blared, echoing in her head, causing her to laugh madly.

Finally she came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street. She raised her arms out to her sides, her palms to the sky, and lifted her head so that the rain could pound her face. Spinning around and around until she was dizzy, she lost control. Gretchen looked away from the heavens just as the oncoming headlights blinded her.

No pain, she thought. No pain and no suffering. Let them come. She closed her eyes and welcomed the end to her suffering. She embraced the idea of stopping the madness.

Just then a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the way of the approaching car. She could barely make out the face of her rescuer, her vision still blurry and her mind hazy. Her first instinct was to strike out. She balled her fist and swung it madly in the darkness.

Gretchen could feel the arm around her waist loosening and took advantage of the opportunity. She elbowed the stranger in the ribs, kicked wildly at his legs, and when the grip around her loosened more, she pulled away and ran.

Her pulse was speeding, her breathing becoming harsh. It didn't matter. She continued to run. Gretchen didn't even spare a glance over her shoulder. She had to get away. Her life depended on it. Her race was not only with the stranger who probably just saved her life, but also from her own demons.

Death would have been a welcome relief from the madness, but she wanted sweet oblivion on her terms. If the demons won...they'd own her soul for eternity.

She almost plowed a couple of people over as she continued to scamper down the sidewalk, heedless to where she was going, only knowing the need to run, run blindly. Feeling the heat take over her body, she shrugged out of the black leather jacket and dropped it on the pavement. Gretchen heard a voice but the words were jumbled and unintelligible. She felt a hand on her upper arm and jerked away from the touch as if she had been burned. Her mind whirled as her body spun around in slow motion.

Gretchen could make out a face but no features as the stranger came closer to her. She turned around and saw more indistinct figures approaching her. Her pulse raced even faster as she struggled to catch her breath. Voices ricocheted in her head. There were so many voices, talking to her, but she couldn't decipher what they were saying.

Her body began to tingle and itch all over and she felt herself tremble. Sudden fear crept up her spine. She felt trapped. Her eyes began to swell with tears and her head throbbed. There was no escape. If death had come to claim her, then she hoped it was swift and merciful.

Once again raising her arms to the sky and staring blankly into the heavens, she begged and pleaded. Let them take her. She heard the shrill scream explode in her ears and only recognized it as her own when her world went black.

Derek Holden walked into the 53rd Precinct with trepidation. He had had the worst day ever so far and somehow couldn't shake the apprehensive feeling of it not getting any better.

Walking straight to his desk without making eye contact with anyone, he had almost made it through the maze unscathed. Until Bonnie Crane, his partner and good friend, latched onto his arm just as he was about to sit down. He groaned as he turned to the big-boned brunette. She gave him a winning smile, locked her arm in his and led him away from the desk.

"Come on, Bonnie," he groaned. "I just got in the door, for cryin' out loud."

Bonnie simply shrugged as she pulled him toward the interrogation room. "You know that doesn't matter." Stalling right outside the door, she turned to him, "How are you doing today, Holden?"

"Just swell," he said with a mocking smile.

"Glad to see you've still got your sense of humor."

"Is that what that was?"

"I hope you keep your sense of humor and your patience firmly intact for this one." She jerked her head toward the interrogation room.

"After the day I've had, I don't have either anymore."

"What happened?" Bonnie asked, her voice full of caring curiosity.

"Sam left this morning. She said she didn't think she could handle being married to a cop."

Bonnie gave him a timid consoling smile. Personally she thought that Samantha Warren had to be the most insane woman alive to dump this man. Derek Holden was not only the nicest guy Bonnie had ever met, but he had to-die-for good looks--raven black hair that waved over his forehead and tickled the nape of his neck, dark brown eyes that glimmered with unspoken promises, and a smile that gleamed with boyish charm. He was thirty-something, about six feet tall and his body was lean and very muscular. Derek was sinfully sexy, and if Bonnie was a few years younger and a little less married...

But she was happily married, and showing Derek Holden what he might have been missing with an experienced older woman was merely an erotic fantasy. "Good of her to tell you--two days before the wedding," Bonnie smirked.

"Better two days before than the day of," he added ruefully.

"Are you still going to take your three weeks off?"

"I have to. I don't want anyone to be suspicious."

"Suspicious of what?"

Derek leaned down and said confidentially in her ear, "I'd rather keep it to myself...if you get my drift?"

Even though she knew that was just male pride talking, Derek was her friend. "My lips are sealed," she stated and made the motion of zipping her lips with her thumb and forefinger. "So...where are you going to go for three weeks?"

"Nowhere," he shrugged. "I let Sam have the tickets to Hawaii."

Bonnie gasped. "Why on earth would you do a crazy thing like that?"

"Because she asked for them," he replied in an unconcerned tone of voice.

"You are too nice."

"Yeah, well. They say nice guys finish last. Hell, I didn't even know it was a race." Derek stared at the older woman for a long moment before deciding that he was done talking about his miserable love life. "What have we got in here?" he asked as he nodded towards the interrogation room.

"Gretchen Lewis. She was taken to the emergency room last night for a near heroin overdose. When she sobered up some, they brought her here. It seems she has the idea that someone is trying to kill her. Heroin addict or not, we have to take her statement. She's all yours."

"So how did I get so lucky?"

"Captain wanted you to take this one." Bonnie shoved the paperwork into his hand and gave him a consoling pat on the back.

"Remind me to thank him," he jeered before he opened the door and went inside.

Sitting at the table was a thirty-ish young woman with spiky bleached blonde hair and thick black-rimmed glasses. Her body was emaciated and her hand trembled as she lifted a cigarette to her mouth. Derek tried to place a sincere smile on his face as he slid into the chair across from her. She gave him a hesitant look before putting out her cigarette and straightening her spine. Her brown eyes met his as she stared at him expectantly.

"So, I understand that there is someone out to kill you?" Derek asked, shuffling through the file in front of him.

"Yes," she replied in a hoarse voice.

"Okay. Why would someone be trying to kill you, Miss..." He glanced at the paperwork to get her name again. "Lewis."

"Call me Gretchen."

"Very well, Gretchen."

"And you are..." she asked expectantly as she sat back and lit another cigarette.

"Detective Derek Holden."

"Well, well, well. Today must be my lucky day. Not only are you good-looking, but the type that likes to get right down to business."

He snorted irritably and trained keen eyes on her. "Do you want to file a report or not?"

"Okay, Detective Holden." She threw her hands in the air submissively and smiled. Taking a drag off her cigarette, Gretchen Lewis cocked her head sideways and stared at him. In a serious voice, she began. "The man that's trying to kill me... I know his name and everything about him, right down to the type of jockey shorts he wears."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she replied as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"So this person is an intimate partner..."

She snorted. "Hardly."

"No? Then I'm afraid to ask how you know this information."

"He was under my surveillance for a year and a half. And now he's found me and he wants me dead."

"Under your surveillance?"

"Yes."

"And now he wants you dead?" Derek asked in a disbelieving voice.

She stared at him for a long time, slowly taking a long pull off of her cigarette and exhaling the smoke. Finally she placed her hands on the table with the intention of standing up. "You're not going to believe me. I should just leave."

Derek placed a halting hand on her forearm, causing her to sit back in her chair and give him an impatient look. "Why don't you just relax and tell me what's going on? Why does this man want to kill you?"

Gretchen shook her head vehemently. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she replied coolly, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

"Try me," Derek encouraged, attempting to take her as seriously as he could. He was a detective, not a psychologist. It wasn't his place to deem her insane. His job was to take her statement and in doing so, he had to sit through her story and pretend to believe.

She must have decided to trust him. "Okay. But to understand everything, I'll have to start from the very beginning." Crushing her cigarette into the ashtray, she took a long even breath and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Eight years ago, a secret government unit was formed consisting of me and four other girls. Our assignment was to bring down two brothers who were thought to be terrorists working for the Russian government. We got one of the brothers, but not both.

"One of the girls in our unit defected and went over to their side. The other four of us aborted our mission and hightailed it out of Russia and went into hiding. Two of us are dead already. It'll only be a matter of time before he gets to the other two of us."

"Wait a minute," Derek demanded, overwhelmed with what she was telling him. The implications of her story were too unlikely and she had to realize that he couldn't possibly take her seriously.

"Look, Detective. I can give you names. You can go and check out my story if you don't believe me."

"What names?" Derek had to admit his interest was piqued.

"A Mr. Arthur Fergus. He ran the department which we were under. He's probably retired now but if you look his name up, you'll find that he was head of the Foreign Safety Agency--the FSA. His job was to ensure that all foreign interactions were friendly and non-hostile. When he learned that Garrett and Logan Connor were working for the Russians, he became worried.

"These brothers were leaders in the Irish Republican Army and have been known to take a no-holds-barred approach to further their cause. Seven years ago, they were planning a bombing of a Russian Embassy and intended on blaming it on American terrorists. They wanted to start a war between the two countries, to see them go head to head and destroy each other. But the Russians got wind of the plan and instead of exposing the Connor brothers, they decided to buy them."

Derek's brow furrowed. This was beginning to sound like something she'd read in a cheap espionage paperback.

Gretchen went on. "Somehow the US government found out that some high-ranking, ambitious Russian officials were planning a similar strike against an American embassy, using the Connor brothers as outright paid mercenaries. Garrett and Logan Connor were in it for the money, Detective Holden. They were so good at what they did that I guess they figured there would always be time later to get back to IRA business. And of course the extra money would help finance more covert IRA operations.

"But the Connors had to be stopped before their plans became a reality, and it had to be done in a very hush-hush way. So Arthur Fergus decided that he would find a group of renegades, people who were expendable and had nothing to lose. He wanted a group that would not appear to be threats. That was why he recruited the five of us. We were all facing prison sentences, we were all very young, and we all appeared to be harmless women."

"So..." He was speechless. What could he possibly say to that? It was far-fetched and implausible and...and she was so incredibly serious.

"Grab your pen, Detective Holden. I want you to write all of this down so you can check out my story for yourself. All five of us are on public record. We still have rap sheets and you can access our information on your computer."

Derek grabbed his pen, if only to placate her, and prepared to write down the names--for curiosity's sake.

"We'll begin with Bethany Mitchell. She was twenty years old at the time. In Atlanta, Georgia, she was convicted of multiple counts of arson and faced twenty-five years in a women's correctional facility. Last week, her burnt body was sent home to her folks for burial. Bethany was killed in Louisville, Kentucky. It made the local headlines. You should look it up.

"Then there was Deana Chapel. She was nineteen and convicted of armed robbery in Brooklyn, New York. Deana accidentally shot a man and paralyzed him, which made her sentence even heavier. I think she was facing thirty or more years in federal prison, but I'm not sure. Two weeks ago, her body was found hacked into little pieces in a dumpster in San Francisco. That is also in the newspapers.

"There was Veronica Chambers. She was twenty-two years old and had seduced and conned almost fifty men out of millions of dollars. She was finally convicted in Phoenix, Arizona, where she had indirectly caused her latest victim to die of a massive heart attack. Once a con artist, always a con artist. She had all of us fooled. As it turned out, she defected...got in really close with the Connor brothers and ratted us all out. As far as I know, she's still alive and hanging out with Logan Connor. But I can't be sure.

"And don't forget little old me. My crime was being an excessive computer nerd and hopelessly addicted to heroin. I hacked my way into banks in order to pay for my addiction and I got caught. I was convicted in Roanoke, Virginia, and was facing a twenty-year sentence at Club Fed.

"Last, but certainly not least--Grace Wesley. Grace was nineteen and convicted of murder in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Grace grew up in Australia until she was sixteen years old. She thought she'd come to the US where the grass is always greener. Late one night, she was followed home from the bar she worked at and was attacked by two men who meant to rape her. Grace tried to fight them off but one of the men pulled a gun and they both got what they wanted. They raped her, beat her, and turned their backs on her, assuming that she was either dead or very close to it.

"But Grace was--and is--too strong to just go down like that. She jumped the man with the gun and when she did, the gun went off, killing him. The other guy ran like a coward. But then again, it takes a coward to rape a woman at gunpoint. She was found guilty of second-degree murder, and for that, she got put together with the likes of the rest of us."

"So where is Grace now?"

"She's still alive...so far. But I know Logan Connor is saving her for last."

"Why is that?"

"She killed his brother Garrett," she replied with a casual shrug of her shoulders. Derek lifted a curious eyebrow, causing the young woman to moan. "It's not like that. It was either kill or be killed. She did what she had to do and the world is a much safer place without Garrett Connor."

Derek set his pen aside and stared at her square in the face. He didn't believe a word that was coming out of her mouth. It was just too farfetched of a story. Although he did have to give her credit for such a vivid imagination. It was probably a hallucination she had once had while jacked up on heroin and she had mistaken the illusion for reality.

Either way, Gretchen Lewis was obviously full of shit and Derek had had about enough of her wild tale.

"Look, Detective Holden. You seem like a really nice man. And I know you think I'm full of shit but are too nice to say so. But I am telling you the truth. All four of us were put in witness relocation. Logan found Deana and Bethany. He has found me. No matter where I go, I can never get away from him. He will find me and he will kill me. But he hasn't found Grace yet."

"How do you know?"

"I know." Gretchen glanced around the room with shifty eyes before leaning in close to him. "I know where Gracie is," she whispered.

"Really?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"You have to go to her and warn her."

"What makes you think I can do that?"

"Because you have something I don't have--anonymity. If I go to her, I will lead Logan right to her. She doesn't know that he is on our trail. It has taken him five and a half years to find Bethany, Deana, and myself. Now that he has almost finished all of us, he is more adamant than ever to get to Grace."

"Wait a minute. You say it took him five and a half years to find you, but you were each in a relocation program. And you say he's killed two already, just in the last couple of weeks..."

She looked at him steadily. "I know it doesn't make much sense. Perhaps Logan Connor has been busy with other things, and only now has he decided to seek his revenge for his brother's death. Maybe he's been in prison. Maybe he's known for a while where some of us are, but he couldn't take down one without alerting the others. Maybe Bethany and Deana had figured that enough time had elapsed that the danger was over, and their personal security was lax. But I find that hard to believe. There's even the possibility that Logan got his information from the inside, from the very agency that was supposed to be protecting us. I don't have all the answers, Detective. I wish I did."

"What about you? If he's out to kill you, too, don't you need some protection?"

"You don't understand. Grace saved my ass more times than I can count. And if Logan finds her, he's going to torture her. He will make her suffer. And all because she killed his brother to save herself...and to save me. The world is minus one seriously bad man because of Grace Wesley. She didn't deserve to be put in the position she was put in all those years ago. And she doesn't deserve to die now by the hands of Logan Connor. Please! You have to go and help Grace."

Derek shrugged, figuring he would play along for the girl's sake. "Okay. Where can I find Grace?"

Gretchen leaned very close to him and whispered in his ear. "Cooperstown, North Carolina. I haven't seen her in over two years but I know that's where she is."

"So let me get this straight...you want me to go to this Coop--"

"Don't say it out loud, please!" she hissed. "The walls have ears."

He ignored that. "--Cooperstown, North Carolina. You want me to find Grace Wesley and tell her that Logan Connor is looking for her."

"Yes."

"How will I know who she is?"

"Her mug shot photo should be on file in the computer. I can't imagine she's changed all that much, although she'll probably be in disguise. I think she's either a librarian or working in a bookstore, but I'm not completely sure. She's got an Australian accent but you can bet she'll be covering that up with a southern drawl. She's the mistress of disguise. But I'm sure you're a smart enough man to see straight through any camouflage." Gretchen stood up and stretched her weary muscles.

"What are you going to do?"

"I must go. Logan will be in here soon looking for me. And for any information you have on me."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You don't believe me. But you will. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day... But he will find me and he will kill me."

Derek stood up as well. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"Nah. No point in getting more innocent people killed. Once Logan has found you, no amount of protection is enough. Just promise me that you'll get to Grace before he does. Warn her. Tell her it's only a matter of time..."

Derek watched the young woman leave before sitting back down in the chair and glancing at his notes. He had to admit that he didn't believe one word of her story. But it could be easily checked out, with the help of the department computers.

And it would keep his mind occupied for a few days anyway...long enough to forget that his ex-future-wife was basking in the Hawaiian sunshine. Without him.

Derek had been sitting at his desk for the last three hours, trying to concentrate on routine paperwork. But all he could think about was the heroin addict and the story she had told him.

Could it be true? Stranger things had happened before. Or maybe he was just wound up and looking for something to intrigue him, since his personal caseload had been lightened due to the fact that in two days he would be gone for three weeks' vacation.

He had no real plans--clean out the garage, maybe; give his pick-up truck a badly-needed tune up; anything he could think of to fill three weeks of still being a bachelor; anything to take his mind off Samantha.

But even if his personal life was in the pits, he was a damned good detective. And he was a damned good detective because he had damned good instincts. His initial reaction to Gretchen Lewis' story was disbelief; but curiosity was beginning to get the better of him.

He stood up and stretched his tight muscles before looking around the squad room; he had the distinct impression that someone's eyes were on him. Nothing was out of the ordinary as he took his seat again and began fiddling with his computer. It wouldn't hurt just to check out the girl's story...

His fingers started gliding across the keys as he began to access the names he had taken down in his notes. The first name he put into the computer was Arthur Fergus. The information on the man was exactly what the girl had said. He was once head of the FSA and ran that division for something like thirty years until he retired two years ago. There was no information on his current whereabouts, most likely for security and safety reasons.

Next, Derek entered Bethany Mitchell into his computer. He gained access to her criminal record that verified she had been convicted of arson and had later been exonerated of all charges. Beside her name was the word he had feared would appear there: DECEASED.

He continued to enter the names that Gretchen Lewis had given him. Each one confirmed her story. Deana Chapel was deceased, Veronica Chambers' location was unknown and Grace Wesley's location was unknown. Then he entered Gretchen Lewis' name. Her rap sheet was a mile long, her location unknown as well.

Too accurate to be mere coincidence.

Then Derek looked up Garrett and Logan Connor. Both men's pictures popped up on the FBI Most Wanted List. Garrett Connor was listed as deceased and Logan Connor was listed as whereabouts unknown. Under Logan Connor's profile, the words should be considered armed and extremely dangerous were written in extra large bold print. Both men had been labeled as threats to the United States and were suspected of orchestrating and carrying out more than a hundred bombings worldwide and terrorist attacks on three US Embassies. There was even a ten million dollar reward on Logan Connor's head.

Derek felt like an asshole. Either the girl had access to classified information or she had been telling him the truth, and he had dismissed her as if she was nothing. Some detective he was, he thought ruefully. He might as well have put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger himself for as much good as he had done her.

Suddenly Derek felt someone touch his shoulder and he quickly, instinctively shut off his computer monitor and stood up. He turned around and groaned inwardly at the woman standing there with a smug look on her face.

Tall and voluptuous, sleek chestnut-brown hair and stunning hazel eyes, and a face that belonged on a billboard... Samantha Warren grinned as she reached into her pocket and handed him a ring with his apartment key on it. Derek snatched it out of her hand and stuffed it into his pocket before glancing around the precinct.

Sam opened her mouth to speak. Derek simply grabbed her elbow and led her into the break room. Once inside with the door shut, she whirled around to face him, her eyes wide and livid. He didn't care. Their dirty laundry was not going to be aired in public.

"Everything is cleared out."

"Fine," was all he could say. What else was there to say? She had called the wedding off. She had decided to move out. She was throwing away their entire future together--on a whim. Derek was above begging her to reconsider. As much as it pained him to lose her, that just wasn't his style.

"You know, Derek, I was hoping that you and I could get together tomorrow night and talk over a few things."

"What is there to talk over? You've made your decision."

"I don't want things to end badly between us."

"Things always end badly, Sam. Or else they wouldn't end."

"I love you. I really do."

"I don't want to hear that," he said curtly. "Look, if you don't want to marry me, I'm fine with that. But don't you come in here confessing your love for me. Obviously you don't love me enough or we would still be getting married on Saturday."

She stared at him for a long moment, poised to speak, but Derek didn't give her a chance. He turned away from her and walked out of the break room without a glance back. There was nothing left to say. All he had left now was the realization that it was time to close this particular chapter on his life and begin a new one. Samantha Warren was past tense. That was the way it had to be.

Derek walked straight back to his desk and pretended to become engrossed in his work, conveniently choosing not to notice when she walked by him to leave, deliberately keeping his eyes averted to avoid seeing the gentle seductive sway of her hips that had been the first thing to attract him to her.

He rubbed his eyes with his palms and turned the computer back on, intent on continuing his research into the heroin addict's wild story. Just as he came across the newspaper article in the Louisville Post, Bonnie came to stand directly in front of him with a grim look on her face. Derek was almost afraid to ask.

She didn't give him a chance to. "The overdose girl was just found about a block and a half from here. Dead."

Derek stared at his partner for a long moment before he shook his head, guilt-stricken and full of remorse.

After about a minute and a half of complete silence, Bonnie spoke again. "I guess she was right, huh?"

He inhaled angrily. "The question is how much she was actually right about."

"What do you mean?"

Derek motioned for her to pull up a chair and quickly stroked the keys on his computer as she scooted closer to him. "Miss Lewis told me a crazy story about five girls that had been undercover agents for the government years ago in Russia. The man that she said was trying to kill her was the same man they were supposed to bring down." He noticed Bonnie's skeptical look and quickly dismissed it with his hand. "I thought she was full of shit, too--until I started looking up the names she gave me. Each and every one checks out. Coincidence? I don't think so."

"Holden, just because she was a heroin addict doesn't meant that she wasn't a smart one. She admitted to being a computer hacker. She could have looked everything up and gotten the information to give her story plausibility."

"But why? Why would she do that? Why would she go to all the trouble to find real characters to back up her story?"

"Look, I know you're feeling like you could have saved--"

"Don't you see, Bonnie? If what she is saying is true..."

Derek pecked out another few keystrokes and suddenly Logan Connor's picture flashed up on the screen, causing Bonnie's eyes to widen. "Wait a second. He looks very familiar."

"This guy?" Derek asked as he pointed to the picture.

"Yeah."

"Well, he should. He's one of the FBI's most wanted."

"That's not it." Bonnie stared at the photo for a long second before her jaw dropped and realization kicked in. "Oh shit!"

"What?"

"That man was in here a few hours ago, looking for the overdose girl."

Derek gaped at her. "You're kidding."

"No. He said he was her brother."

"Why didn't you come get me?"

"Because she had already left and I didn't think you wanted to be bothered with another nuisance."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"I just told him that she had already left and that she had been in here filing a report that someone was trying to kill her. We both had a good laugh over it and he said that sometimes his sister was 'delusional like that'."

"Bonnie, this man is Logan Connor. He is wanted by the FBI for bombings and terrorist attacks on US Embassies, and God only knows what else all around the world."

"He was here," she repeated matter-of-factly. "He was here and I just let him go."

"That was the man that Miss Lewis said was trying to kill her. And we practically helped him do it."

She stared at him for a long time, her face drawn with remorse. "What do we do now?"

"We don't do anything. I got the girl killed and now I have to make it right."

"How are you going to do that?"

Derek simply shrugged his shoulders. "I have to save Grace..."