Lisa Phillips - Homefront Defenders

PROTECTING THE PRESIDENT

Amid the idyllic scenery of Hawaii, rookie Secret Service agent Alana Preston is attacked, and a sinister plot to assassinate the president begins taking shape. But nobody seems to believe Alana, and she doesn’t know who she can trust—except Secret Service director James Locke. Now, with an assassin hiding in plain sight on the island, she and James may be the president’s last line of defense. The closer they get to cracking the case, however, the more intertwined their lives become. And they must fight to keep their hearts out of it. With the life of the commander-in-chief in their hands, falling in love could be a deadly distraction...

“Alana, can you hear me?”

Locke wanted to make her wake up, but it was probably a good thing she wasn’t conscious to feel her injuries.

She moaned. Locke gathered her closer to him and put his chin on her head. If someone had wanted to distract them, they’d succeeded. They had hit Locke in the place where it hurt the most and forced him to turn his mission from the president’s safety to taking care of his partner. Because he was going to make sure Alana was safe.

Somewhere along the way she had become more important to him than his job, and Locke was never going to apologize for that.

As he looked down at his unconscious partner, Locke realized that if he was going to save the president, he had to set aside his feelings for Alana. If it could be used against him, then it was a liability. And liabilities cost him his job. If the president was killed because Locke was distracted by Alana, all of them would lose.

He had to let her go.

Dear Reader,

So often our past defines us. And so often we allow other people’s expectations to change the course of our lives. But God’s way is freedom. It’s life.

In Him we find the fulfillment of all the promise we’re unable to drum up in our own lives. His path is so much better, richer, fuller. And it’s this grace, this goodness poured out in us that gives us strength to fight against those things that weigh us down.

My prayer for you in reading this book is that God continues to work in you that message of Himself and that you will go forward one more step in the journey.

If you have any comments or questions, feel free to email me at lisaphillipsbks@gmail.com, as I would love to hear from you.

Sincerely,

Lisa Phillips

LISA PHILLIPS is a British-born tea-drinking, guitar-playing wife and mom of two. She and her husband lead worship together at their local church. Lisa pens high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in a happily-ever-after. She understands that faith is a work in progress more exciting than any story she can dream up. You can find out more about her books at authorlisaphillips.com.

Homefront Defenders

Lisa Phillips

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy habitation.

—Psalms 68:5

Thank you to all my Hawaii friends for all your information, and my hubs, who suffered through a research trip over our anniversary!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

It was hard not to think about sharks, sitting on a surfboard off the coast of Hawaii. Secret Service agent Alana Preston could see the hotel, and the faintest hint of dawn reflected in the wall of windows as she bobbed up and down on the ocean. Soon enough she’d have to get back to her duties, but for now Alana intended to enjoy this moment and not think of sharks—or how so many of the humans she’d met had a bite far worse than the predators.

At least for an hour out on the water she could forget that she’d torn up her knee all those years ago and destroyed her chance to surf competitively. She could forget that she’d moved to the mainland to be a Secret Service agent. She could forget the fact that she hadn’t called home since she left.

Working at the White House was everything she’d imagined and nothing like she’d thought it would be at the same time. She was exactly where she wanted to be: on the front lines of the Secret Service.

But Hawaii would always be home.

Alana was part of the advance team setting up for the president’s impending visit, and though there was almost no time for anything but work, if her boss, James Locke, could make time for a morning run, she could surf. She’d seen the director leave the hotel in his running clothes and set out along the beach maybe forty-five minutes ago. Alana was the rookie on the team, which meant Locke would have his stern, chocolate-colored eyes on her until she could prove herself. Too bad every time he looked at her she wanted to squirm under his attention. Why did he have to be so handsome?

Not that anything was going to happen. She was way too busy proving herself, making it so that she was the kind of person her father would’ve been proud of. Alana looked over at the mountains, then to the shadow of the rest of Hawaii’s islands on the horizon. I’m almost there, Dad. She was so close to losing the rookie title she could feel it. I’ve nearly done it. Just like I said I would.

She began to paddle even before her mind recognized the swell of the water. The minute she’d heard the surf report, Alana had brushed her teeth and dug out of her suitcase the board shorts and rash-guard shirt she’d always worn for surfing. No way would she waste waves like these.

Alana plowed through the water using her arms to propel her. When the moment came, she grasped the sides and hopped to stand as the surfboard cut through the water. The tunnel was beginning to form in front of her. If nature cooperated she might get in there for the ride surfers waited hours to find. There was nothing like the isolation of riding the tunnel of a wave. Cut off from the world. Invincible. Cocooned from everything. Free.

The board jerked. Alana’s legs tightened on a reflex as something bumped into her from beneath the water. Shark. It hit her again, jostling the board. She started to fall, a black-gloved hand grabbed her ankle and she hit the water.

The wave pushed her down. It happened sometimes, and even as it happened now, she already knew the momentum of the wave had forced her down. In a second it would pass and she would be free to swim up, but she still fought that encroaching panic. It’d been a while, but instinct kicked in. Stay calm. Don’t freak out.

Where was the person she’d seen? Under the water it was almost completely black, and with the rush of the waves it was hard to even open her eyes, let alone find visibility for more than a split second.