Lori Harris - Set Up With The Agent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover Page

Title Page Set Up with the Agent Lori L Harris www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author About the Author LORI HARRIS has always enjoyed competition. She grew up in southern Ohio, showing Arabian horses and Great Danes. Later she joined a shooting league, where she competed head to head with police officers – and would be competing today if she hadn’t discovered how much fun and challenging it was to write. Romantic suspense seemed a natural fit. What could be more exciting than writing about life-and-death struggles that include sexy, strong men? When not in front of a computer, Lori enjoys remodelling her home, gardening and boating. Lori lives in Orlando, Florida, with her very own hero. For Bobbie Laishley and Bill Laishley And for the Harris Family: Trip, Kathy, Gracie, Mike, Nichele, Brett, Connor, Dillon, John, Billy, Patsy and, most of all, for Bobby. Love You All!

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Copyright

LORI HARRIShas always enjoyed competition. She grew up in southern Ohio, showing Arabian horses and Great Danes. Later she joined a shooting league, where she competed head to head with police officers – and would be competing today if she hadn’t discovered how much fun and challenging it was to write. Romantic suspense seemed a natural fit. What could be more exciting than writing about life-and-death struggles that include sexy, strong men?

When not in front of a computer, Lori enjoys remodelling her home, gardening and boating. Lori lives in Orlando, Florida, with her very own hero.

For Bobbie Laishley and Bill Laishley And for the Harris Family: Trip, Kathy, Gracie, Mike, Nichele, Brett, Connor, Dillon, John, Billy, Patsy and,

most of all, for Bobby. Love You All!

FBI Special Agent Mark Gerritsen ripped his shirttails from his trousers. It was just past 3:30 a.m. on a hot July night, and he was standing on the street in front of a modest home in a quiet Frederick, Maryland, suburb.

“Has the lab determined how much of the chemical weapon is missing?” Mark kept his voice low. As he stripped off his shirt, he glanced at Special Agent Colton Larson, who stood several feet away.

Larson was also down to his T-shirt. “They’re calling it sizable.”

Mark offered a terse smile. “In other words they don’t know, and they’re trying to cover their asses.”

He suspected it was also the reason the FBI hadn’t been alerted of the theft until the middle of the night—because those in charge of security, of protecting the people from the kind of occurrence that had just taken place, had been scrambling to protect their jobs instead of the American public.

Leaving his shirt hanging over the open car door, Mark grabbed the heavy body armor off the seat and settled it over his shoulders. He shrugged the protection into position before pressing down on the Velcro straps. The rest of the counterterrorism unit had been contacted but was unlikely to arrive in time, which meant Mark and Larson would be working with a local SWAT team.

The target was a home two doors down from their current location. Mark scanned the front of the residence. Except for the dim front porch light, the small, brick ranch house with peeling trim paint had been dark when they’d arrived and remained that way.

The owner, Dr. Harvey Thesing, made a good wage, but from the brief background information Mark had obtained en route, over the past year Thesing had been spending his money on environmental causes. Which should have tipped off his superiors that no matter what his credentials were, Thesing wasn’t the best chemist to work on MX141.

Along with the rundown on Thesing, Mark had also received one on the chemical weapon. Though fairly stable in the powdered form, once dissolved in a liquid and vaporized, its lethal power was immeasurable.

Bottom line, they were talking some nasty stuff.

Mark checked out the surrounding residences. “How are those evacuations coming?” While he had been meeting with the SWAT guys, Larson had been seeing to the perimeter.

Larson looked up. “Local cops have cleared a block in all directions and are in the process of closing off roads.”

Mark would have liked to ask for a larger area, but there just wasn’t time for that luxury right now. It was a decision that he hoped he didn’t end up regretting. “Make sure they stick close by in case we need to get more people out.”

A SWAT team member rounded the front end of Mark’s car, striding soundlessly toward them. “Car’s in the garage. Bedrooms appear to be at the back.”

Mark grabbed the olive drab hazmat suit and stepped into it. Because he’d been assimilating a lot of information when they’d met five minutes ago, it took him a second to recall the officer’s name. Rogers?

Mark slid his arms into the sleeves of the suit. “But you don’t know which one Thesing is using? Or if he’s even in that area of the house.”

“No. We’re not picking up any sounds inside.”

Which meant they might find an empty house. That Thesing could already be putting his plan into motion.

Mark zipped up the lightweight suit. But what was Thesing’s agenda? What in the hell did a tree hugger do with a chemical weapon that he’d been instrumental in developing?

“What about a basement?” Mark asked.

“There’s one.”

“Any type of entrance?”

“Two well windows that are boarded up from inside.”

Was it possible that Thesing was sleeping down there? Perhaps because with the recent heat wave it was cooler?

Mark grabbed his holstered weapon and strapped it on. “Any word on whether Thesing owns a gun?”

“Nothing registered.”

Which, given current gun laws, didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot. Thesing could be sitting on a whole arsenal.

Rogers scanned the area quickly and then returned his attention to Mark. “How do you want to do this?”

“Covert entry through the front door. I’ll need for one of your men to handle the pick gun, then hang around long enough to offer some initial cover. Once Larson and I are in, though, your man needs to back off immediately. Best-case scenario, we reach the chemist before he has time to get to the stuff.”

Mark looked up, his gaze connecting with Rogers’s. “No one goes in without full hazmat gear, understand?” He waited until the officer nodded before continuing. “Have the rest of your men keep the windows and doors under hard surveillance, while still maintaining a safe distance.”

“Does this stuff have a name?” Rogers asked.

Larson had just stepped past Mark to grab a hazmat suit. “Yeah. Scary.”

Even as Rogers offered a tight nod and turned away, Mark sensed the local cop’s frustration at being asked to respond to a situation where critical information was being withheld.

Not that Mark had any choice in the matter.

They were under orders to avoid full disclosure of MX141’s capabilities, something that made him extremely uncomfortable. But if everything went well in the next few minutes, if the MX141 was recovered without incident, the decision to withhold certain facts could turn out to be the right one.