Jodie Bailey - Calculated Vendetta

KILLER STORY

When army journalist Casey Jordan’s attacked, she’s convinced it’s a random mugging—until a killer comes after the military team she’s interviewing. But who’s the real target: Casey or her ex—staff sergeant Travis Heath? Despite an attraction that still lingers, Travis pushed Casey away months ago, convinced military life leaves no room for attachments. But when the attacks grow increasingly personal, Travis begins to question his chosen path. As the targets of a killer’s vendetta, though, it could be too late to make up for lost time...because he and Casey may not have a future to share.

Travis couldn’t shake the prickly feeling of being watched.

If he and Casey were still together, he’d have suggested a quick run to the coast, a dinner of sandwiches and soda while they dug their toes in the sand. It was half on his tongue to ask, but probably wasn’t a smart idea.

“You look like you’re plotting something.” Casey had stopped at the edge of the brick sidewalk and was eyeballing him like she really could read his thoughts.

That would be scary.

He looked both ways, waiting for a break in traffic. “Me? Plotting? Not at all.”

An older Nissan 280ZX stopped half a block away and flashed its lights.

Travis and Casey both threw a wave of thanks and stepped into the street, aiming for Travis’s truck on the other side.

A sudden squeal tore the air.

Adrenaline crashed through him in a lightning jolt of pain as the Nissan roared straight for them.

Dear Reader,

When I was little, we were vacationing at the beach. My mom found a piece of sea glass. Sand and surf had smoothed the bumps and edges of a broken Coke bottle.

She handed it to me and said, “We’re like this glass. We start out broken from sin. Jesus is like the waves and the sand, making us shiny and beautiful.”

It was a lesson I’ve always remembered. The greatest thing Mom taught me was God is in everything, and He is everywhere. If we wait for Him, He will reveal Himself.

I like to think she learned that from my grandmother, who once called and said, “I was making the bed, and the way the light came through the window and hit the bedspread... I sat down and cried, because I felt how much God loves me.”

Funny thing is, I’ve stood in our kitchen—which used to be hers—as the light fell over the butcher-block island and felt that same thing.

God loves you right where you are. He is a Zephaniah 3:17 God: “The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

I hope you will take a few minutes alone with Him and let Him tell you how much He loves you!

I also hope you will drop by and say hello over at www.jodiebailey.comor at jodie@jodiebailey.com. I’d love to hear how you’ve seen God in the small things, too!

Jodie

JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.

Calculated Vendetta

Jodie Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.

He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

—1 John 4:18

To Mom, who taught me to see God in all things, big and small. Because of you, I see Him everywhere I go.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

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

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The conversations of the late dinner crowd in the Mexican restaurant hummed around Staff Sergeant Casey Jordan as she loaded one more chip with salsa and promised herself this one—like the eight before it—would be the real “last one.” Probably not, but still... Didn’t she deserve to indulge a little after her dinner companion had excused himself to take his fourth phone call in twenty minutes? Finally, she’d given up and told John Winslow they could reschedule, and he’d taken off for the door after a quick thanks and a wave.

Sure, it wasn’t technically a date, rather an interview for the story she was working on for the Fort Bragg Public Affairs Office, but the diners around them had no idea of that. To them, she’d been royally disrespected.

Reaching for the chip basket, Casey chose a perfect triangle. One more, then she’d throw in the napkin and go home to the cliché of pajamas, ice cream and the hardest sudoku puzzle she could lay her hands on. After her last relationship had spectacularly flamed out, she deserved all the comfort food she could get.

“Casey?” The sound of her name rose above the other noises in the small restaurant. For a second, her hopes rose, but they crashed to the floor just as quickly. The voice was definitely not John’s.

It was her own thoughts come to life in flesh and blood.

She did her best to ignore the call as her stomach tightened around the chips she’d downed. Not now. This was the last thing she needed on a night when it looked as though a date had abandoned her. Way to drive the knife in, making him appear.

Grabbing the backpack that held her laptop, Casey slung it over her shoulder, pretending she hadn’t heard Travis Heath hailing her. It had been three months, and he hadn’t called her once. Let him enjoy the burn of being ignored. She’d rather go home and dig into a pint of Mackinac Island Fudge than make small talk with the guy who’d gotten her hopes up before he ground them into mush under the heel of his combat boot.

Then again, knowing Travis, ignoring him would only make him more persistent. Better to face the past than have it chase her out of the restaurant and become the dinner show for an audience chowing on tacos and chips.

When she stopped near the counter and turned, Travis ran right into her. He grabbed her upper arms to steady both of them, forcing Casey to look at him fully for the first time.

Yep. He was everything she remembered. Tall. Lean but muscular. Blue-eyed under slightly longer-than-regulation dark blond hair. If she glanced around the restaurant now, half the women there would be staring at him. Casey inhaled and tried not to notice he still smelled like outdoors and ocean, even though the coast was nearly two hours away.

Scent recall was definitely a thing, because the slightest whiff of him brought an assault of memories that threatened to drag her right back to him. For a second, she’d glimpsed the old him, the him she’d loved.