Debra Webb - Broken

His posture was so rigid, Mia thought he would snap. “You don’t have proof my uncle is the man you seek,” she said. Her heart pounded so hard the blood roared in her ears.

“I found the evidence I need.” Linc refused to look at her. “I found what he took from me. No one else had the means to take the one thing that mattered to me.”

His wife. The blood drained to Mia’s feet, leaving hear as cold as death. Her body had never been found… Seven years ago in the explosion… Her own car accident had been seven years ago…

She remembered nothing from that day or from her entire life before. It had been day after day of trying to remember. Night after night of dreaming things that made no sense.

Air would not enter her lungs. The porch shifted and swayed beneath her. Her vision narrowed until it encompassed nothing but his eyes. “You think I’m your wife.”

Then the spinning sucked her into a vortex that grew deeper and deeper until everything else vanished.

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The loss, pain, challenge and triumph portrayed

by the characters Mia Grant and Lincoln Reece

in this story is very close to my heart. If not for the talented,

patient and compassionate folks in physical and occupational

therapy at SportsMed in Huntsville, Alabama,

I might not have learned to use my right arm and hand again.

Thank you all for caring and for never allowing me to give up.

Debra Webb wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romantic suspense and action-packed romantic thrillers since. Visit her at www.DebraWebb.comor write to her at P.O. Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815.

Lincoln Reece—He is an Equalizer who has nothing to lose. Everything was lost to him seven years ago the day his wife, Lori, died. When his former LAPD partner tells him his wife is still alive, will Linc dare to hope and risk that emotional devastation a second time?

Mia Grant—She is a simple woman of approximately thirty years of age who began her life a mere seven years ago. When a stranger arrives in her small town claiming she is his wife, her carefully constructed world turns upside down.

Slade Keaton—He is the enigmatic head of the Equalizers, a private investigations firm that ensures justice outside the law as often as inside. Keaton has secrets that even the woman who loves him is afraid to uncover. Those secrets involve the Colby Agency, and Keaton just keeps getting closer and closer.

Vincent Lopez—He is Mia’s godfather. She calls him her uncle. He saved her life and ensured that she received world-class medical care. But is he really a hero?

Gloria Lopez—She is Mia’s adopted aunt. She is a kind, compassionate woman who would do anything for Mia…perhaps even keep secrets that might tear Mia away from her.

Teddy Stewart—He would like Mia for himself, even if he has to use a gun to keep her away from the man he believes to be a dangerous stranger.

Juan Marcos—He was the most wanted drug lord on the West Coast until he was targeted for assassination by a competitor. His assassination cost many lives, including Lori Reece’s.

Jim Colby—He is the son of Victoria Colby-Camp, head of the Colby Agency. He is glad to help out the new owner of his former firm, the Equalizers. But Jim has a hidden agenda. He is certain Slade Keaton has his eye on the Colby Agency. The only question is, why?

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

Epilogue

Chicago, Friday, June 24, 10:06 p.m.

One more drink and he was out of here.

Lincoln Reece nodded to the bartender, an unspoken order for another of the same. He exhaled a lungful of relief that his latest assignment was successfully behind him.

There was no greater rush than the one that came with victim vindication. No one should be allowed to get away with taking advantage of little old ladies. Particularly not a man operating under the guise of the Good Book. The three elderly widows on whose behalf Linc had acted had gotten back the deeds to their homes, and the unsavory counterfeit minister who’d done the swindling was behind bars without bail, awaiting the next step toward prosecution.

The bartender left the glass on the counter and moved on to the next patron without missing a beat. Linc took a long swallow as he turned on the barstool to watch the Friday-night crowd. Most nights he was not on assignment he was here. He liked it here at Hazel’s House. The music was low enough for conversation, not that he ever talked to anyone. Best of all he could slide deep into oblivion and walk the three blocks to his rent-by-the-week room. No one cared who you were or what your deal was here in Hazel’s House.

Unless you dogged out the Cubs or the Bulls.

A table overturned on the other side of the room. Shouting broke out as bodies collided and fists swung. Linc leaned back and propped his arms on the counter to watch the show. A woman hollered that she didn’t belong to no man. Ah, the other reason the occasional brawl broke out in Hazel’s House. Jealousy.

Bouncers swaggered over to clear up the debate. Linc rotated the stool, turning his back to the ruckus. He didn’t need any trouble tonight. He was here to chill. The last time he’d let his old cop instincts guide him he’d spent the night in lockup. His boss had gotten the charges dropped within mere hours of Linc’s call.

Slade Keaton, head of the Equalizers, had a seemingly endless supply of resources. Linc downed the rest of his bourbon. Keaton was a decent boss. Linc hadn’t enjoyed anything about a job—and he’d had several—or about life in general for seven years. Working as an Equalizer gave Linc the closest thing to satisfaction he’d experienced in that time. If you could call existing to work a sense of satisfaction.

Linc laughed, the sound little more than a growl in his throat. Not living…just existing. Sad. So sad.

“Thought I’d find you in a place like this.”

Linc recoiled. What the hell? His bleary gaze cleared instantly. But his brain reacted a little more slowly. He blinked to banish what was no doubt an alcohol-induced hallucination.

The man laughed, near loudly enough to drown out the blues melting from the speakers mounted in the joint. “That’s priceless.” He leaned in close. “What’s it been? Five years?”