The MSD men waited in the briefing room for Martin and his RSO team to join them. Happy to be in an air-conditioned facility—deep in the bowels of the embassy, Gage powered up the basic cellphone and tossed the packaging at the trash can.
“Ya missed, bro.” Gannon grinned and threw his empty box in the same direction. “New guy cleans up the mess.”
Kohen shrugged and stood. Local comms were crucial in the field. MSD agents couldn’t miss a beat when it came to enabling varying and reliable devices. After the briefing, they’d check weapons and their kit, which always remained at the embassy unless in use.
“So, what’s the deal?” Kohen tidied up their mess. “We’re playing babysitter for ‘Chanel Five?’”
“Chantal. Her name is Chantal, and we’ll get the lowdown in ten.” Gage eyed the newer agent, not liking his condescending tone or the nickname.
The medic lowered his voice. “I hear she follows her mama around like a lamb… hangs with the locals… gets to travel for free.”
“And if the Anaconda hears you disrespecting her daughter, she’ll nail your balls to the wall.” Gannon popped a stick of gum in his mouth.
Ambassador Durant was known in diplomatic circles as the Anaconda—for a good reason. Rumored to latch onto an adversary and squeeze them into submission, whether through diplomacy or sheer willpower, Connie Durant never gave up. Gage admired her tenacity and fairness in the field and looked forward to meeting her. Over the years, she’d earned great respect, and he’d heard she was up for the Regional Director role.
Martin entered, followed by what Gage assumed was either the Deputy RSO or an ARSO—an Assistant Regional Security Officer. The men stood and shook hands as Martin made introductions, and the rest of his staff filed into the briefing space. Finally, Martin kicked off the meeting. The initial intel, centered around Pearl Bandara and her daughter, proved to be sobering, and Gage leaned forward. “Where are they now?”
“Back in the States. The human rights commission has launched an investigation, and the overwhelming evidence of her ex-husband’s past atrocities is in safe hands. Except Rajin Bandara has disappeared and has a vast network which is promoting his propaganda and dissent.”
“Vast as in?” Gage asked.
“As in communities that will fight for him—why do you think we can’t find the bastard. He’s charming, persuasive, and focused on building his Robin Hood persona. Vast as in a suspected private army of thousands. His cohorts claim that he is hiding because the Americans are spreading lies and fabricating the evidence, and he’s ‘afraid for his life.’ We’ve underestimated his loyal following, which now includes radicals willing to go to war to protect their benevolent leader. They’ve made threats against the ambassador.”
Gannon waved a pen. “Ambassador Durant has her own MSD team in place—Team Three—they arrived a few days ago.”
“Correct.” Martin picked up a remote control as the projector flickered to life. “But her daughter, Chantal Durant, is a concern. They’ve named Chantal as a target. She’s of particular focus due to her relationship with Pearl.”
“In what way?” Gage rubbed his fingers along his forehead as he zeroed in on the details of his mission.
“They’re good friends and have worked together in Colombo at the Confianca Recovery Center. Chantal is a chiropractor who volunteers her services and works with the disabled—war victims and the likes. Pearl Bandara is—was—a prime investor in the center.”
“How does this relate to Miss Durant’s safety?” Gage asked.
“Pearl contacted Chantal for help the night she ‘disappeared.’ It’s become clear that Rajin wants to find his daughter and ‘traitorous’ ex-wife and knows about Chantal’s involvement in helping Pearl. On two occasions, shady characters have swung by the recovery center looking for Chantal.”
“Why doesn’t she remain at the embassy until this dies down? Or she could fly back to the States?” Jason steepled his hands before cracking his knuckles.
“It’s complicated. She won’t leave the ambassador’s side. They’re both involved in raising funds for mine clearance and amputees. Chantal refuses to back down or accept help.”
“Don’t you have a local police escort?”
“Yes. Except we’re not sure if the local guards are trustworthy, and implying that they aren’t or removing the detail, could cause political repercussions. We’ve already swapped out her local detail. Rajin is—was—the Minister of Law and Order and owns the police—has police chiefs and officers on his payroll.”
The communicated intel had Gage worrying his bottom lip. They’d be tiptoeing through a mafia minefield in a perfect storm. He didn’t want to fuck with local law enforcement, but if they interfered with Chantal Durant—his assigned principal...
His head began to pound, and Gage asked the million-dollar question. “What happened to warrant an MSD detail for the daughter?”
Martin pressed the remote, and a choppy video appeared, which looked to be from a cellphone in a market.
“This was filmed by a British tourist in the vicinity. Two days ago, during her lunch break, Chantal, along with a fellow volunteer, visited a local market. The local officers assigned to her protective detail conveniently disappeared as two men accosted the girls. We’ve had the guards fired and investigated. Both women fought back. Chantal and her friend both know the basics of self-defense.”
Gage watched as a hooded man tried to strong-arm the ambassador’s daughter. The bruiser twisted Chantal’s arm as she kicked at his knee. She hit the mark. The second man appeared to shove her blonde friend away, who punched out with what seemed to be a brutal uppercut—Gage couldn’t tell as the shaky image bobbed from side to side. Their attackers lost time and locals leaped to the women’s defense. Both bastards broke past the crowd and made a run for it.
“Have they been identified or caught?” Lucius asked.
Gage glanced over at the MSD agent who asked the question. Lucius Jones was the quietest member on Team Five. A tall black man built like Hercules. His talent—aside from being a deadly agent in the field—was language and dialect. All the team members spoke a variety of languages, which was par for the course as a DSS or MSD agent, but Lucius had a real knack for learning quickly in the field and won over the locals on most assignments.
“Not yet. Facial recognition on the little we have isn’t working, but we’ll persist.”
Someone knocked on the door, and a young woman entered, followed by the ambassador. The team jerked to their feet as the ambassador greeted the room and introduced her assistant and her Chief of Staff. Gage knew that Ambassador Durant’s embassy team rivaled some of the best on the planet. Connie Durant replaced section chiefs with foreign service veterans. Slowly pulling some of the best talent from various embassies around the world took skill.
The ambassador took a seat, adjusting her black jacket as everyone resettled. Gage noticed that she favored her left side ever so slightly, and he thought back to what he knew of her history. Before he could continue his musings, she pinned him with a direct glare.
“Mr. Hendrix. I specifically requested Team Five, as I’ve heard good things about your actions in the field. I’ve also heard that you occasionally take risks, and so far, they’ve paid off. Tell me that I’m making the right decision when it comes to my daughter’s safety.”
“Yes, Madam Ambassador. We’ll do everything we can to protect Chantal Durant. But my advice is that she should be heading across the globe to the States until this blows over.”
The ambassador smiled. “The Durants are built of sterner stuff, and I admire Chantal’s determination and commitment to the cause. I’ve spoken with her, and she will remain by my side while we negotiate these troubled waters. The Bandara investigation is a temporary situation. Once the authorities capture Rajin and he answers for his crimes, life will return to normal.”
“Madam—”
“We’re dealing with a cornered coward, and the political repercussions of his actions are containable. Chantal’s new local protection detail will remain in place and work alongside your team. If they step out of line, you’re running the show.”
“Will she be a cooperative principal?”
“Chantal will listen. At the moment, she’s angry and scared for Pearl and her child. They worked closely together for almost a year.”
Gage flipped through the intel on an iPad. “In two weeks, there’s a two-day trip scheduled to Hatton. That’s hill country, right? Amongst the tea plantations?”
“Yes. There will be a delegation from the U.S. Department of State’s Office of Weapons Removal and Abatement. We’ve planned the exo-kinetic and mine clearance symposium. That’s non-negotiable. Chantal has worked in tandem with our embassy to bring awareness to both projects.”
“Which are?” Gannon asked.
“Working with amputees and participating in de-mining efforts. There are still regions in Sri Lanka covered in landmines. And these hidden dangers injure civilians every year. Along with Martin’s department, Team Five will prep for the event. I won’t stop working with communities and performing as ambassador unless I have no other choice.”
Gage closed the open e-file. “We’ll start with surveillance. I want to follow your daughter and her assigned local team and note their patterns. Usually, this takes a couple of weeks. I’ll probably need three days, which gives a starting point in identifying weak areas and individuals in her first layer of protection, while at the same time, keeping an eye on Miss Durant.”
“Should I let Chantal know that we’re watching her detail?”
“No.” Martin cut in. “Miss Durant will be added to the loop when Gage’s team has made their assessment. The Colombo police bodyguards are decently trained, and I handpicked them myself and added an additional detail.”
They continued with the briefing, breaking down the logistics and expectations. Martin handed over a file on Chantal Durant.
Gage tuned out the room chatter as he flipped through the thin file, pausing on a couple of photographs of Chantal. Placing the driver’s license aside, he picked up the second photo of her dressed in a summer dress. She sat in a hammock chair and smiled at the camera. Her straight brown hair cut into a bob cut, sat an inch above her shoulders, and added to an understated beauty. Deep dimples creased her cheeks. Despite her upturned mouth, her large brown eyes held a darkness that Gage had rarely seen on a civilian’s face. There was something in the way she sat—a discomfort and uncertainty which seemed out of place in the beach setting.
Gage looked up and met the ambassador’s direct gaze.
“She’s the spitting image of her father.” Her lips twisted, and she glanced at the photo in his hand.
Aside from high cheekbones and her chin, Chantal looked nothing like her mother.
“We’ll keep her safe.”
The ambassador nodded. The meeting turned to the Local Guard Program and local resources. When the meeting finally wrapped, the men headed out to grab lunch. The heated air bounced off the street, and Gage’s neck immediately dampened with perspiration.
“I hope the mother/daughter dynamic isn’t going to complicate this mission.”
Gage turned to Lucius, surprised that he’d picked up on the same anomalies. “I need more intel—a rundown on our principal. I’ll speak to Martin.” Gage stayed away from complexity—both in life and on the job. And had a feeling that they may have stumbled across Pandora’s Box.
Chantal couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as she climbed into the back of the suburban. It had been a long day, and her feet ached. Thanks to skipping lunch and only having an apple for breakfast, her stomach protested. Exhaustion ate away at her mood, but she forced a smile and greeted her local bodyguards. The workday wasn’t over, and as soon as she got home, she’d change out of her jeans into her sweats. Pulling out a thick customized planner, Chantal scribbled an observation from her last appointment and chose a colored sticker from the back as a reminder for a follow-up. Consistency and self-discipline were both key when offering quality chiropractic services. Only she was in charge of what filled her treatment space and took up her valuable time. Lives were made-up of pattern and routine, and she refused to spend her days on insignificant habits. Kirk, the DS Agent in Charge—referred to in diplomatic
Gage didn’t like her pallor and knew the stunt they’d pulled probably shook her up some. Good. She needed to be a receptive survivor—on top of her game. Her perfume drifted, and he wondered at the familiar notes, picking up a woodsy scent with a creamy coconut vibe. Why did it smell so addictive?Finally, she took his hand. His rough fingers gripped her cool palm, and he felt a tremble. He was the cause. Squashing a sliver of guilt, he smiled reassuringly. A firm grip from a put-together beauty with incredible skin and glossy hair and Gage tried to find a flaw in her armor. And there it was—all in the eyes. She’d never be a good poker player—those large, chocolate-brown eyes held galaxies worth of intel. He released his grip and stepped back. Folding her arms, she backed up against the wall, looking paler than before.“That stunt could’ve ended badly,” Kirk pushed, and Lucius snorted.
Jona collapsed onto the sand and watched the sun rise. This early hour was perfect for a three-mile run. Aside from a few fishermen, the beach lay quiet—a solitary start to the day. Wiping a sweaty brow, Jona acknowledged failure by waiting too long to take out the mother and daughter. It had been twelve years, and Jona had completed fifty-two kills and never failed. Except once… while Papa watched.Standing frozen on the sideline like a procrastinating fucker, waiting to complete this first mission. Why the delay? Because emotions fogged up this unfinished assignment, and Jona couldn’t fail a second time. Between contracts, Jona had stalked the ambassador’s daughter, aware that an assassin should never get too close to their target. Years had passed without action.Chantal Durant had everything in life, and Jona actually liked the spoilt bitch. Chantal had her choice of men—falling over themselves to be with her. Yet, the prissy princess
“We’re waiting for a consignment of wheelchairs, but there is a delay.” Chantal made her last adjustment and moved the right leg, gently feeling around the lady’s severed joint. “How many prosthetics have you worn?”“About ten.”“Twelve,” her husband corrected. “They all cause her pain, and I’m tired of seeing my wife in such agony. She can barely walk.”“Can you stand again?” Chantal helped the fragile woman stand on her good leg, conversing in English with the multi-lingual couple who resided in Colombo. “How does that feel?”“A little better. I feel relief in my back.”“Good. I want you to rest while we adjust the prosthetic. I’ll also need to work on your back for the next two months.”“Thank you, doctor.”“Don’t cry, dear. Let’s fit a temporary limb until your next
Gage watched Wyatt—the new AIC—open the car door for Chantal, and as she climbed out, he glanced over at his team, who were eager to head to the embassy to stow away equipment and weapons. The sun had already set, and they’d locked up late due to a last-minute patient with ulcerations from his prosthetic. “Wait here.” Gage knew it was wrong, but even though they were in the safe confines of the Jefferson House, he chose to walk Chantal back to her cottage. He headed to her side, and she shot him an odd look. “Are you going home?” he asked. “Yeah. Clean-up time.” “I’ll walk you. Let me take your bag. It looks heavy.” She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable.” “Still, I want to.” She handed it over, and he mock-groaned. “What’s in this thing, bricks?” Chantal laughed. “My planner is the culprit.” “Is your planner a person? Like a
Chantal escorted the elderly gentleman out of the treatment room and directed him to the exit. Happy with the spinal adjustment, he pressed his palms together and bowed. Chantal did the same.“He’s here!” Alexis called from down the passage. “Sunil is outside.”“You saw Sunny?” Chantal turned to the excited blonde, her spirits rising.“He’s waiting in line. He has to be in pain to turn up now.”“Is his sister with him?”Alexis shook her head as they both headed for the front door. Wyatt and Dishan fell in from behind once they saw where the women were heading. Chantal pushed open the doors and followed the line of patrons alongside the building. She hated that patients had to wait for treatment and wished that they had additional staff. Although, the center had more therapists than ever before—there wa
Chantal didn’t have much time. After his therapy session, Sunny slid into the seat and looked around the office. Alexis sat nearby and offered him a reassuring smile.“Thank you, Miss Chantal. My leg feels better.” He clutched the jar of lotion on his lap as he stretched out his sore thigh. The amputation was just above the knee and Chantal hated seeing those blisters from the prosthetic rub. He needed a better artificial limb.He needed everything she hoped she could give him. His worn clothes looked gray and hung off his thin frame. A bruised cheek spoke of a rough life on the streets. He mentioned recently finding accommodation in a hostel, but worried about his sister’s safety.“You look tired, Sunny. How many hours do you work?”He shrugged a thin shoulder. “Too many. I won’t go back to that orphanage. They tried to take my sister away—spli
Fredrik raised his brows at the two large men at the adjacent table. “Do they have to sit on top of us?”Chantal wondered the same thing and forced a smile. Gage insisted on practically sitting by her side and watched Fredrik like he was the Unabomber. Unlike Chantal, her date didn’t seem fazed and flashed a white grin. Fredrik certainly didn’t lack in confidence and wore a well put together suit, which made her feel underdressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. In her defense, she’d added a black blazer, gold earrings, and applied careful make-up that morning. They sat in a fancy Indian restaurant—Chantal had hoped for a casual lunch at a beach café, needing to get back to work. She wondered how Sunny had settled in and took a slow breath to slow her racing heart. The agent beside her flustered her composure which rarely happened. Getting used to her large protective detail was proving to be a big challenge. Perhaps
Watch out for “Striking Blow.” (Strike Zone Book #2)This is Pearl and Antonio’s story. Filled with international intrigue and subterfuge.Striking BlowColombo.Sri Lanka.Pearl needed directions—a map—a freaking GPS back to herself. Finding her worth again meant starting with a physical transformation. For starters, the blonde princess staring back at her in the mirror wasn’t real, and it was time to pack “socialite barbie” away in a dark drawer; time to step away from the two-hundred-dollar haircut and her designer lifestyle.Of course, that wasn’t the reason for the hair clippers clutched in her nervous grip or the box of Brown Sable hair color on the counter. Returning to her natural shade would help to hide her identity. Pearl’s monstrous ex-husband wouldn’t be happy with her escape
Christmas Day, two months later. Quantico, Virginia.“Connie, grab the salad tongs. They’re in the drawer next to the sink.” Gage leaned over and placed the large salad at the center of the table. He paused to look around his new home. So, maybe his whirlwind romance with Chantal had moved a little fast. He’d ended up spending the rest of the year in Virginia, commuting between DC and Quantico as the investigation into the Sri Lankan attack dragged on via multiple debriefings.Gage spent every spare moment with Chantal and wanted more—a cemented life with the gorgeous chiropractor. A home. Not just any home—a place they’d chosen together. Technically, they’d moved into their own place, but…“You used my first name without a reminder. Finally.” The ambassador tapped Gage on the arm with the tongs and grinned. “Your secret salad dressing had be
One week later. Welikada Prison, Colombo. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Gage asked, his concern evident. “I’m fine—just a little tender.” Chantal lied, but she needed to have this conversation. She stood with Gage in a dark passage. The rest of the team remained on guard outside the walls, and Dishan waited in an adjacent courtyard. Team Five insisted on accompanying her, regardless of their debriefings and orders. Chantal’s heart twisted, knowing they mourned the loss of their teammate. Local and U.S. teams had retrieved the ambush victims’ bodies, and DSS would fly Jason’s remains back to U.S. soil. Gage looked restless, and she knew he was concerned over their surroundings. Welikada Prison was the largest prison in Sri Lanka. Regular prison clashes resulted in numerous deaths. They weren’t exact
National Hospital.Colombo.The reunion with her daughter had been short-lived. Connie and her detail met them at the National Hospital. Chantal had been rushed from the helipad on the roof to the third floor after Gage’s men radioed ahead, coming in hot on a military chopper. Hours later, her daughter lay in a safe and comfortable bed with Gage by her side.Connie cradled her third cup of coffee and watched the couple from the door. Their heads touched as Chantal whispered with the team leader. His easy smile indicated his affection as he tucked Chantal’s tangled hair behind her ear. They both looked like they’d survived a war—or a plane crash. The MSD agent had better not break Chantal’s heart.The lash marks on her daughter’s arms and neck had Connie turning away. She’d give them more time.
As they converged on the courtyard, a mercenary fired from the shadows and Gage aimed and took out the threat. The man fell just as Chantal’s scream alerted them to her location. Gage switched to berserker mode, abandoning his training as he rushed the door. “Chants!”Gannon wrestled him away. “I’ll use an explosive breach. Hang back!”“Fucking hurry! I’ll do it.”“We need steady hands.” Gannon knelt beside the door and pulled out the putty. He worked quickly and stepped back.“Clear!” Gannon yelled, and the door blew inwards. Gage followed, rushing into the small space. His heart paused as he took in the carnage. Blood pooled on the rough floor, and Harris lay across Chantal with a blade to her neck. Gage recognized the knife as his own and savage regret surfaced.“One more step, and I’ll kill her.”Gage gave direction. “Chants, don’t
Chantal paused to examine her bleeding hands before switching from the window to her chain. She knew, if she slept anymore, she’d waste time. She began a fresh count to five hundred, and would switch tasks unless she made progress with either the bracelet around her ankle or the chain link.It took an agonizing moment to lower herself to the ground. Her body screamed with exhaustion and relentless pain. Was this how her mom felt every day?And Chantal had wanted a break—thought about walking away? What kind of daughter was she, to abandon her impaired mother, to run off and “find herself”?Except she’d found herself—with Gage. Each moment they’d spent together was etched in her shattered mind. For the hundredth time, she analyzed their last moments together. And Alexis… the way she’d looked before pulling the trigger and deliberately firing past Chanta
Gage sagged against a pillar, an empty water bottle crushed in his fisted hand. His bruised body screamed as he waited for ibuprofen to kick in. Not that the meds would make much of a difference. Kohen had patched up Gage’s head and cheek, sealing the lacerations with glue and steri strips. Now, they stood outside the tea factory, surrounded by Sri Lankan Special Forces while awaiting exfil. Ignoring his exhaustion, magnified by worrying grief, Gage focused on his team and mentally cataloged their capability. With or without them, he’d be heading up the rescue operation.His MSD team would still be the first choice, but as a rule of thumb, the host nation would have to weigh in and give permission. They couldn’t allow American Federal Agents to run rogue in their country. How would the Sri Lankan President work around this shitstorm? Would he block rescue efforts? Was Rajin in touch with the president, and did he know about Chantal’s kidnapping and how
Sri Lanka.Jaffna Peninsula.They’d walked for just over a mile from the chopper landing site, and Chantal stumbled to keep up. Approaching the thirty-five-hour mark—aside from half a protein bar—she hadn’t eaten. Desperately thirsty and exhausted from her two-day ordeal, Chantal’s weakening body felt uncooperative. All she cared about was Gage. Staring numbly ahead through eyes swollen from tears, she prayed he lived. He’d lain bleeding, beaten and surrounded the last time she’d seen him. He had to have found a way. Gage wouldn’t give up on fighting for his life or for her rescue. The alternative would destroy her heart—her soul.They’d flown north and had stopped once to refuel. Chantal guessed—from what she’d seen on the approach—that they were on the outskirts of a coastal town which looked familiar. The
His chest felt like it would burst as he shoved to his feet and staggered after the women. Spotting Jona in the distance, Gage sped up and fell in his haste to save Chantal. The drug felt like syrup in his veins.Gage saw Jona raise the gun as he pounded through the field. Chantal knelt before the skilled slayer, and her shoulders straightened defiantly. Too far off, he was out of time. Gage felt it in his bones. Jona shifted her stance—straightened her elbow at the last second. Even as he flung himself across uneven ground, Gage knew he’d failed. With one last futile shout, he called out to his love and closed his eyes against the horror.The gunshot echoed across the valley, shattering his soul. Gage’s foot caught on a root, and he flew, landing and sliding to a final stop. Twenty feet away. Tea shrubbery blocked his view, and Gage rose to face a killer. Two pairs of eyes turned his way. Chantal still sat on he