Danica Winters - In His Sights

They both have secrets that could get them killed…

As second-in-command of her family’s business empire, Mindy Kohl is independent to a fault. But after she eludes death by inches and becomes guardian to her niece, a five-year-old with Down syndrome, Mindy needs someone to have her back. Jarrod Martin, who is investigating the crime syndicate targeting the Kohl family, steps up to take on the role. Together, can they outsmart those who want Mindy dead when they are both keeping secrets from each other?

DANICA WINTERSis a multiple-award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts—quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at danicawinters.net

Also by Danica Winters

Hidden Truth

Ms Calculation

Mr Serious

Mr Taken

Smoke and Ashes

Dust Up with the Detective

Wild Montana

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

In His Sights

Danica Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90485-2

IN HIS SIGHTS

© 2019 Danica Winters

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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To Mac.

Thanks for always believing in me

This series wouldn’t have been possible without a great team of people, including Melanie Calahan and Clare Wood, my #1k1hr friends, Jill Marsal and the editors at Mills & Boon—thank you for all your hard work.

Also, thank you to my readers. You keep me writing.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Acknowledgements

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

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

About the Publisher

It was impossible to change a person. However, it was possible to change a person’s opinion—given the right motivation. And, as it so happened, death was one hell of a motivator.

Jarrod Martin looked at the man strapped to the chair in the center of the interrogation room, deep in the guts of Camp Four within the confines of Camp Delta, also known as Guantanamo Bay or Gitmo. The air was hot, reminding him of his days in Iraq, but heavy with the dank humidity and the scent of sweat and fear.

As soon as he was done here he could make his way back out into the world…a world that didn’t outwardly appear to be at war. And yet, no matter where he was in the world or under what regime, there was always some unspoken or unacknowledged war—even at his new home in Montana, and it was one of the many reasons he was in no rush to head there.

For the good of the people and for himself, he was here—the man sent in to rectify security threats and take down terrorists.

“Cut him loose,” he ordered, looking to the two agents he had been given as guards.

“Sir, this man is a known criminal,” the agent nearest him said. He looked to be about twenty-five, and Jarrod swore he could even see a smear of milk on his upper lip.

He held back a chuckle. “What’s your name?”

“Agent Arthur,” the man said.

“Well, Agent Arthur, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” The last thing he wanted, or needed, was someone questioning how he did his job. He’d been involved in interrogations long enough to know what did and didn’t work—and he didn’t need some know-it-all rookie his boss had stuck him with rocking the boat.

“My apologies, sir,” the man said, walking over to their suspect and unlocking his restraints. “I just thought—”

Jarrod shot him a look that said shut up in every language. “His feet, as well,” Jarrod said, motioning in the direction of the shackles.

The rookie zipped his lip and set to work. Jarrod took one more look over his suspect’s file, for effect rather than the need to know. He’d seen more than his fair share of these kinds of guys—the corporate jerks who thought they were above the law…right until they found themselves sitting in his interrogation chair.

Daniel Jeffery, the young CEO of Heinrich and Kohl gun manufacturing, sat back in his chair and looked around the room. He looked like a wolf that had just been set loose from a snare. Jarrod held back a mirth-filled smile. Given enough time, he would turn this wolf into a pup who would beg to do his bidding.

“How are you doing, Daniel? Do you need anything? Water? Sandwich?” he asked, trying to ingratiate himself with the man.

Daniel brushed off the legs of his dress pants, attempting to rid himself of the detritus of captivity. “I could use a latte and a fresh set of clothes,” he said. “I don’t know why you think it was okay to bring me here. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Sure, he could argue all he wanted. But if he was innocent, the CIA would have never called STEALTH, Jarrod’s independent military contractor team and the CIA’s harbinger of dirty work. He and his team were like the Ghostbusters of bad guys—the government always called them in when they’d run out of legal ways to handle those who needed to be dealt with.