Rita Herron - Undercover Avenger

Eric had not bothered to turn on the light. He pointed to the desk in the corner near the sliding glass doors, and she noticed the drawer ajar in the darkened room. A few of her notes were scattered on the floor, the various files she’d collected from the private investigator shuffled through as if someone had searched them.

Her pulse clamored. Someone had been there. But why would they be interested in her files?

Eric’s hand gently touched hers. “Someone was in here.”

She jerked her head up. “I know.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

Because they know why you’re in Savannah, she realized. And they don’t want you to learn the truth….

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Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for writing romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

Eric Caldwell—A scarred man in search of revenge.

Melissa Fagan—She was abandoned as a child and is on a dangerous quest to find her identity.

Luke Devlin—Eric’s FBI contact. Does he know something about CIRP that he’s hiding?

Ian Hall—The new director of CIRP. Is he whom he claims to be?

Arnold Hughes—The former director of CIRP who is wanted by the police. Has he resurfaced from the dead with a new face?

Candace Latone—Is this psychotic woman really Melissa’s mother?

Robert Latone—This powerful foreign diplomat will kill anyone who threatens his power and his name.

Edward Moor—Latone’s right-hand man and confidant.

Dennis Hopkins—A scientist dabbling with brainwashing techniques.

Wallace Thacker—A chemist who has recently transferred to CIRP. Could he be Hughes?

Helen Anderson—The elderly nurse has been at the research hospital for years. Does she have secrets that might help Melissa find her birth parents?

Walter Stinson—One of Melissa’s patients. Did he really lose his leg to diabetes?

Louise Philigreen—A confused woman who lost a baby years ago.

To Melissa Endlich for all your support!

And to the Georgia Romance Writers for being the greatest chapter ever!

Thanks a bunch for turning out at the signings.

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

Eric Caldwell walked a fine line with the law, but he didn’t care. He had trusted the Feds before and people had died. He didn’t intend to let it happen to this witness.

Even if he and his brother, Cain, fought again. Cain, always the good guy, the one on the right side of the law. The man who never saw the grays.

The only color Eric did see.

“Come on, Eric, where’s the witness in the Bronsky case?” Cain asked.

“What?” Sarcasm laced Eric’s voice. “Did the police lose another witness?”

“We do the best we can,” his brother said. “Do you know where he is?”

Eric grabbed a Marlboro and pushed it into the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, can’t help you, bro.”

Cain hissed, his message ringing loud and clear. Eric was lying, but Cain knew better than to push it. Eric would do whatever he could to keep the witness alive. “You can’t go around undermining the cops and the FBI, Eric, or killing every criminal who escapes the system.”

He glared at Cain over the duffel bag he’d been packing. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

Cain’s gaze turned deadly. “I don’t want to see your vigilante ways get you in trouble. It’s like you’re on a death mission, taking everything into your own hands.” Cain’s voice thickened. “One day you’re going to cross the wrong people.”

Eric ignored the concern in Cain’s warning, zipped his bag, then threw it over his shoulder, grabbed his keys and strode toward the door. “Like you don’t cross the wrong kind all the time.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Cain argued. “I have people covering me. You’re on your own.”

Eric hesitated. “You could quit the force and help me. Make it your New Year’s resolution.”

“New Year’s has come and gone,” Cain said. Their gazes locked briefly and Eric’s stomach clenched. His brother was serious. “Join the force, Eric, and work with the law, not against us.”

But Eric could not fit the mold. “I guess we hit that impasse again.” He snagged his laptop off the counter.

Cain’s jaw tightened. “Watch your back. If you get into trouble—”

“Then you’ll be there to help me.” A cocky grin slid onto Eric’s face. “Now, I’d love to stay and talk politics but I gotta go.”

Cain caught his arm before he could fly past. “Where are you going?”

Eric stared him down hard, the way he had when they were boys and they’d argued over whether or not to interfere when things had gone sour at home. When their father had taken his rage out on their mother and them. “I have business to finish,” he said between clenched teeth. “Legitimate business at the ranch.”

His brother studied him, didn’t believe him. Eric didn’t care.

Or maybe he did, but he would do what he had to do anyway.

Mottled storm clouds rolled across the sky as he headed outside, thunder rumbling above the trees. The wind howled off the lake, a haunting reminder of the bleakness that had become his life.

He didn’t have time for self-analysis, though. He had to get the witness to a safe house, then meet that woman his friend Polenta had sent his way. She’d sounded desperate, as if she was in trouble. And there was a kid involved. Some baby named Simon. The woman hadn’t made sense. She claimed they were after the baby, that he was the product of a research experiment.

He’d known then he had to help her and the child. He’d even considered confiding in Cain, but she had turned to him for a reason. Because she couldn’t trust the cops.

The reason he did what he did.

Eric could never say no to a woman or child in trouble. Not when his own past haunted him, when memories of his mother’s suicide still sent sweat trickling down his spine. Years ago, he’d started working with an underground organization to help women escape abusive homes so they didn’t meet the same fate, and their children didn’t suffer from abuse themselves. Someone had to help them break the cycle.