HelenKay Dimon - Gunning for Trouble

Nothing.

He blew out a long breath, trying to drag enough oxygen into his lungs to breathe. It took Caleb another second to realize Avery had never let go of his shirt.

“We’re okay,” Caleb said.

“I can’t believe…” Her voice shook as hard as her body.

Reality came roaring back. This was his life, not hers. She’d held it together, helped him. When everything fell apart around her, she held it together. In that moment, their history didn’t matter.

Knowing it was stupid he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her lips. Once his lips met her soft mouth, the temptation to linger and relearn the taste of her grabbed him, but he pushed it out of his head. This was about providing comfort only. About giving them a moment to celebrate being alive.

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To my mom, Joan Dimon, who loves reading mysteries,

thrillers and romantic suspense as much as I do.

Award-winning author HelenKay Dimon spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. HelenKay loves hearing from readers, so stop by her website at www.helenkaydimon.com and say hello.

Caleb Mattern —This undercover Recovery Project agent is trying to adjust to involuntary retirement. Having his ex-girlfriend and former boss break into his house changes everything.

Avery Walker —She once made a tough decision she thought was right but ended up losing Caleb. Now she needs his help…and wants another chance to win him back.

Trevor Walters —A highly regarded and very powerful businessman. On the surface he is well connected and plays by the rules. But looks can be deceiving.

Rod Lehman —The missing head of the Recovery Project. His off-the-books investigation into missing women in the Witness Security Program could cost all the Recovery agents their lives.

Russell Ambrose —One of the few people with inside information about the workings of witness protection. So why doesn’t he know what’s happening on his watch?

John Tate —An administrator in the Office of Enforcement Operations at the Justice Department. He decides who gets into witness protection and who doesn’t. The question is about what else he knows.

Vince Ritter —Rod’s former partner. Vince shows up, offering his help to the Recovery agents, but can he be trusted?

Luke Hathaway —The interim head of the Recovery Project. He has vowed to keep his team together, even if it means sending Avery away.

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

Caleb Mattern’s watch vibrated against his nightstand. The second after the warning alarm went off and the green backlight flashed, he rolled off the mattress fully awake with his hand grabbing for the gun tucked between the bottom of the headboard and his stack of pillows.

Dressed only in a pair of gray boxer briefs, he reached for the watch and stalked in a crouch through his dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn tight, not letting any light seep in and ruin his nightly four hours of sleep. Any brightness and he wouldn’t even get that much.

So, this is how the end would come. Trapped in a one-bedroom condo in his underwear. He smiled at the thought. Or he did until his fingers tightened on the weapon, causing his mind to snap to attention.

Being armed felt right. He could shoot, attack, roll. Do whatever was necessary to stay alive. He’d learned those skills long ago, and being on involuntary leave from the job he loved didn’t change the adrenaline rush.

He stalked around the end of the bed, his feet quiet as they fell against the soft beige carpet. Opening the door to the hall would be more of a challenge. He rigged it every night. If someone got into the place without triggering the alarm, he had backup plans: a loose floorboard just outside the bedroom; a window that opened only two inches before the sirens of hell rang out; a hinge rigged to squeak if the door opened.

And those were just the obvious tricks.

As fast as his fingers could move, he tightened the screw at the top of the door. At the right pressure it would remain silent and he could pull off a stealth maneuver into the hall. But too long in this position and any bullet traveling through the door would hit him right in the gut. Not exactly the way he wanted to go out of this world.

He pulled the door open enough to slip through. Quiet echoed all around him. Other than the low hum of the refrigerator down the hall, nothing else made a sound.

The place was about seven hundred square feet. He liked it small. Made it easier to strategize and attack if needed, and it looked as if tonight called for an ambush. If the intruder so much as breathed, Caleb would be all over him.

Easing into the hallway, he hesitated just long enough for his eyes to fully adjust to the dark. He stepped around the purposely creaky floorboard and headed down the short corridor to the open area. From there he could see every angle of the condo.

A shuffling noise sounded in front of him. His gaze swept over the family room and into the small kitchen area on his left.

Nothing.

Well, nothing at eye level. A quick survey of the floor told him what he needed to know. Not that he could see the intruder. But the guy had made a mistake. The slimmest edge of a canvas bag stuck out from behind the couch. Could be a trap but there were only a few places for someone to spring up from behind Caleb. He had his ankle wedged against the laundry door just in case someone managed to curl up in there and hide. That left the few feet of space between the couch and the television.

The rat-a-tat drumming of energy pounded through Caleb. He didn’t waste one more second waiting to get shot first. He ducked down, using the piece of furniture as a shield. Him on one side and the target on the other. In one smooth move, he launched his body up over the top of the sofa. The first grab turned up only air. He stretched forward on the second lunge, saw a flash of brown hair and then grabbed a shirt collar and pulled back. Caleb shoved his gun into the intruder’s temple just as the screaming started.

He was a she. A very pissed-off she.

Arms and legs thrashed. Books from his coffee table fell to the floor as she kicked out, missing the television by inches. Fingernails scraped against his forearm. When she bit him, he shoved her away. She lost her balance, careening right for the plasma screen but she caught herself in time. She spun around, her eyes wide with shock, chest rising and falling in a rhythm guaranteed to bring on a heart attack.