Mallory Kane - The Sharpshooter's Secret Son

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Title Page The Sharpshooter’s Secret Son Mallory Kane www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author Mallory Kane credits her love of books to her mother, a librarian, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her father and grandfather were steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history and could hold an audience spellbound for hours with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband, their two fascinating cats and, at current count, seven computers. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at mallory@mallorykane.com.

Dedication For Debbie and Lorraine

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Mallory Kanecredits her love of books to her mother, a librarian, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her father and grandfather were steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history and could hold an audience spellbound for hours with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father.

Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband, their two fascinating cats and, at current count, seven computers. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at mallory@mallorykane.com.

For Debbie and Lorraine

They called them ghost towns for a reason.

Black Hills Search and Rescue Specialist Deke Cunningham wasn’t afraid of anything. Not anymore. But the late afternoon shadows spooked him. They moved with him, reaching out like gnarled fingers across the empty, dusty main street of Cleancutt, Wyoming. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn’t shake. Probably because today he wasn’t working a routine assignment to rescue a deserving but nameless innocent.

Today he was searching for his ex-wife.

He glanced at the GPS locator built into his phone, then at the two-story building with the letters H E L barely readable above the door. The O and the T had long since faded.

This was it. The location where BHSAR computer expert Aaron Gold had finally managed to triangulate Mindy’s last cell phone transmission.

Mindy. She didn’t deserve this. She hadn’t deserved anything she’d gotten for loving him.

And he’d never deserved her.

Deke approached the two-story building, doing his damnedest not to swipe his palm across the nape of his neck, where prickles of awareness tingled. He was being watched.

No surprise there.

He even knew who was watching him. The same person who’d kidnapped his ex-wife. Well—who’d ordered her kidnapped, anyhow.

Novus Ordo. The infamous international terrorist who’d already targeted another member of the BHSAR team, Matt Parker.

We’ve got your wife, the obviously disguised voice on the cell phone had said.

Alarm bells had clanged in his head and his gut had clenched with worry. Still, he’d had to smile a little. Whoever the kidnapper was, he had no idea what he’d gotten hold of when he’d grabbed Mindy Cunningham.

“Ex-wife,” he’d muttered, working to sound bored and uninterested. “And be my guest. You can have her.”

“This is no joke, Cunningham. We’ve got her and we’ll kill her if you don’t do what we say.”

“The only thing I think you’ve got is her cell phone and a death wish.”

The kidnapper had taken the bait. He’d put Mindy on the phone.

Deke Cunningham, don’t pay them one red cent! It’s a trap—

Tough words. Exactly what he’d expected from her. But beneath her brave words he heard fear—a soul-deep terror he’d never heard in her voice before. And that, more than anything the kidnapper said, scared him to death.

Something was wrong with her. Something beyond being kidnapped. While that alone would be enough to terrify any woman, his Mindy was made of stronger stuff.

In the twenty years since he’d first spotted her hanging by her heels from the top rung of the elementary school jungle gym, he’d never seen anything she couldn’t handle.

Except him.

Her tight, strained voice, cut by static, still echoed in his head as he paused at the bottom of the dilapidated wooden steps of the only hotel in Cleancutt, Wyoming.

He’d heard about the ghost towns of Wyoming all his life. Eighty years ago, Cleancutt and other coal-mining camps had been booming towns. But by the 1950s, underground coal mining had given way to strip-mining, so today Cleancutt was a ghost, a dying piece of history located near the city of Casper.

A vibration started in his breast pocket. Damn it. His phone.

As he retrieved it, he glanced around him, in case he could catch someone watching him, waiting for him to answer. But the display read Irina Castle, his boss, not Mindy. He pressed the talk button without saying anything.