Terri Reed - Guardian

A strange itch at the back of Leo’s neck had him tensing. He’d been in this situation many times before, but this didn’t feel right.

Glancing upward at the second-story balcony that rimmed the edges of the warehouse, he narrowed his gaze on the office doors. That itch worsened. Were Reginald and Angus Dupree up there? Waiting? Planning an ambush? If so, his team members would be in trouble.

Needing to provide his boss and fellow agent cover, Leo gestured to Jake. Morrow gave him the thumbs-up sign. In tandem they carefully moved farther into the warehouse, not wanting to draw attention to their presence.

True’s ears perked up. The scruff of his neck rose. A deep growl emitted from his throat.

Breath stalling, Leo paused as he scanned the perimeter for whatever threat his partner sensed.

Then total pandemonium broke out.

Four men with automatic weapons appeared from around the sides of the two containers. A barrage of gunfire erupted. The deafening noise bounced off the walls.

Leo’s heart revved into overdrive. Adrenaline surged. His pulse pounded in his ears as he dropped to one knee to return fire.

“Down!” Leo shouted to True. The dog dropped to his belly.

“Take cover!” Jake yelled.

Leo grabbed True’s collar and tugged him behind a large container.

Something metal hit the concrete floor and a hissing filled the air, followed by a cloudy haze. Leo gritted his teeth and fought past the stinging in his eyes and nose from the pepper-infused smoke sneaking beneath the face shield on his helmet.

The sound of a dog’s yelp jolted through Leo. His heart slammed against his ribs. True! He quickly checked the dog’s taut body for injury. None.

It had to be Buddy. Leo searched the gloom for Jake and his dog. He couldn’t see either one. Had they retreated? Was Buddy hurt? Jake?

Leo flattened himself on the ground next to True, then tapped the canine on the flank. Together, they scuttled backward toward the door, keeping their heads down and out of the line of fire. A squad of Los Angeles police officers, dressed in tactical gear, filed past them.

With the arrival of backup, relief flooded through Leo.

Outside, he found Buddy lying on the ground, blood oozing from a wound in his hindquarters. Leo’s stomach dropped. He knelt beside the dog, tore off his glove and used it as a compress against Buddy’s injury. The dog whimpered.

“Where’s Jake?” Leo rasped, wishing the dog could speak.

The whir of rotors close by had him jerking to his feet.

Buddy barked and, in a burst of energy, jumped up and took off, leading Leo and True around another building just as a black helicopter with no markings lifted from the ground. Buddy whined and continued to bark, his agitation clear as he sniffed a puddle of blood near where the helicopter had sat. Jake’s blood?

A vise tightened around Leo’s heart. He shaded his eyes but couldn’t see inside the tinted windows of the bird as it disappeared from view. This wasn’t one of theirs. That meant...

“Gallagher!”

Leo turned to see his boss escorting Reginald Dupree from the warehouse while other officers brought out several of Dupree’s henchmen.

Agent Harper Prentiss jogged over. “Angus Dupree escaped but we got Reginald.” She tilted her head. “You okay?”

“No.” His voice sounded ragged, the way he felt inside. He glanced at Buddy. The dog’s distress tore at Leo. “Jake’s been taken.”

The team had captured the head honcho of the Dupree crime syndicate, but they’d lost a good agent in the process.

Guilt ate through Leo’s gut like acid. He’d failed his team. He’d failed Jake. With fists clenched, Leo vowed he’d track down Angus Dupree and rescue his comrade, if it was the last thing he did on this earth.

ONE

“Mommy, where are the fishies?”

“Hey, be careful, buddy. Don’t slip off the rock.” Heart lurching, Alicia Duncan grabbed her son, Charlie, by the back of his green life vest. If he leaned over any farther, he would go headlong into Wyoming’s Blackthorn River. His fishing pole clattered against the outcropping of smooth rocks, where they’d plopped down to fish. The exact place she’d fished from as a kid and teen. “Hang on to your pole, sweetie.”

Heat bounced off the stones and reflected off the river water from the unseasonably warm April morning sun, making perspiration break out at her nape beneath her long dark hair. It was a beautiful spring day for spending time outdoors with her son in the middle of Wyoming’s northwestern mountain range. The clear, smog-free air smelled sweet with the scent of ponderosa pines. So different from city life. A welcome change.

Alicia had always loved the river. About five miles downstream, the lazy flow of water cut a path through the rural town of Settler’s Valley, where she’d grown up. There was something soothing, comforting even, about the way the mountain runoff filled the riverbed.

Especially in this particular area, where the river pooled into a deep canyon with high cliffs across the bank and more cliffs a little ways upstream. The water was deep enough here that she and her friends would jump off the cliffs into the river. Those had been the days when her husband had been her boyfriend and had promised her the world.

She sighed wistfully, as the bittersweet memories washed over her.

The summer after high school she’d married local football hero Jeff Duncan. She’d believed his promise. She’d believed him.

How innocent she’d been...

She and Jeff had escaped their small-town life for the city of Tacoma, Washington. He’d been her hero, both personally, as the love of her life and the father of her child, and professionally, as a highly decorated police officer. But nothing had been as it seemed.

Now eight years later, she was back home in Wyoming. A widow, raising her son and caring for her elderly father.

Oh, and let’s not forget, licking her wounds. She hadn’t even known until after the funeral that her marriage had been a sham. That Jeff hadn’t been the man she thought he was.

Never again would she fall for charm and slick promises.

She shook her hands as if somehow the motion would relieve the restlessness that seemed to plague her these days.

“But I want to catch a fish,” Charlie grumbled. Sunlight reflected off the water and lightened the blue of his eyes, shaped exactly like his father’s. She could see Jeff in the jut of Charlie’s chin as well. Only on Charlie it looked good, not arrogant, the way it had on Jeff.

Okay, she was being uncharitable. There’d been a time when she’d loved her late husband. When he’d been everything to her. But that was before.

Alicia sighed and ruffled Charlie’s thick dark hair, which he got from her gene pool. They’d been out fishing for over an hour without even a nibble. In the world of fishing, an hour was nothing, but with a three-year-old it was more than enough. So much for trout for dinner tonight. “I know, sweetie. They don’t seem to be biting today.”

She reeled in the lure on the fishing rod she’d borrowed from her father’s collection. A fat worm still dangled from the hook. “How about we call it a day and treat ourselves to rainbow sherbet?”

“Yay! Sherbet.” Charlie swung his legs in anticipation. His rubber boots slapped against the rock. She helped her little boy to his feet. He stood with his back to the water. She kept a hand on his shoulder in case he took a step backward.

The sound of a powerboat echoed off the walls of the stone cliffs rising up on the far side of the river. A boat, traveling downstream, rounded the bend into the mouth of the canyon. Alicia didn’t pay the noise any attention as she gathered their fishing gear.