Dangerous Liaisons by Tarah Scott
Date of Publication: December 26, 2015
Being an agent revoked her license to love . . . until she met the man
sent to kill her.
Jesse
Evans' most recent mission turns deadly when Colombian mercenaries ambush her
and her informant. She races across the jungle to warn the Special Ops team she
sent to save an American Senator's young daughter, but arrives just as the team
is slaughtered by drug runners.
Within
the hour, branded as the traitor who leaked the mission intelligence, Jesse
Evans is now the most wanted woman in the world. She must prove she
didn't sell out the team or her sister dies. Only one man can save them both,
but that man isn't who Jesse thinks he is…and she can't afford to fall in love
with him.
A
gunshot silenced jungle-chatter for a heart-stopping instant. The bullet ripped
nearby foliage as Jesse vaulted over the decaying trunk of a fallen corozo
palm. She landed on the soft, sloping Colombian jungle floor and bolted to the
right, plunging deeper into the foliage—and away from the trap where her
informant Martinez had been gunned down. She choked back anguish. He shouldn't
have run when mercenaries burst upon their meeting place. His young wife and
child now had to go into hiding. Jesse shuddered to think about how the Colombian
drug lords would torture and kill them in payment for Martinez having aided an
American spy.
She
scrambled down the slope into a patch of dense undergrowth, pushed through
vines and spider webs, and finally emerged on the bank of a slow moving stream.
Sunlight streamed through a wide break in the canopy. Blue sky arched overhead
in backdrop to dark green foliage. A satellite signal might be possible through
the gap in the trees.
Jesse
slowed and concentrated past the red howler monkey screeches and parrot caws
for footfalls or leaves rustling, indications that Martinez's killers slinked
through the foliage in search of her. Nothing.
She
dropped to her knees, yanked open a pocket of her camouflage fatigues, and
pulled out the secure satellite phone. She flipped it open, punched out home
base's ten-digit number, then pressed the receiver to her ear and held her
breath until the first elongated ring began. By the third ring, her heart
pounded so hard, the thud echoed in her ears.
"Come
on. Pick up." She tried to ignore the dribble of sweat trickling down the
valley between her breasts as the fourth ring began.
What
was wrong? HQ verified the source of incoming calls on the first ring and
picked up on the second. She jerked the phone from her ear and squinted at the
display. Five black bars along the left indicated a strong signal. She pressed
the phone against her ear and shoved aside a lock of hair that had worked free
of the brain numbingly tight ponytail. Why weren't they—
"Designation,
please," came the operator's voice.
"Control,
this is Blue Delta Four."
"Designation
code?"
"Zebra,
four, eight, two, seven, golf," Jesse replied in a low voice.
"Confirmed,
Delta Four. What is your status?"
"I
am not at target. Must speak with Blue Leader."
"Blue
Leader is out of communication range."
"Code
blue," Jesse hissed. "Get me Blue Leader Five."
A
click sounded on the line, a quick ring, then a male voice answered,
"Delta Four, this is Green Leader. What's happened?"
Jesse
froze. Green Leader? Why had Robert Lanton intercepted her call to Henry
Neilson? "Where is Blue Leader?" she demanded.
"Out
of communication range. What's happened?"
She
hesitated.
"What
is your status?" he asked.
She
silently cursed, but gave in. "We have a leak. The Colombians knew about the
meeting."
Silence,
then, "That's impossible."
"Negative,
Green Leader. Repeat, they were waiting. Abort Operation Hangman."
"What
is your source?" he asked.
Her
heart thumped harder with memory of Martinez lunging for the trees when the
mercenaries rushed them. "M-2," she replied with effort.
"How
did M-2 obtain his information?"
She
wondered the same thing. "I don't know. Before he could reveal his source,
the Colombians open fired. But he was scared, really scared. The leak has to be
high up." Anger, hot and hard, shot through her. Martinez's life had been
forfeit—and for nothing. "If that little girl dies because someone at HQ
leaked the mission, I'll kill—"
"Verify
your designation code," Green Leader cut in.
What?
She'd never been asked to verify her identity a second time. The control
operator had already verified her code. "Zebra, four, eight, two, seven,
golf," Jesse counted off.
An
almost imperceptible pause followed, then, "That code is outdated, Delta
Four. Give me your current verification."
Outdated?
Her mind whirled. "What the hell is this?"
"Current
verification, Delta Four."
"Get
Blue Leader on the line right now, and put me through voice recognition,"
Jesse ordered.
"Negative,"
he replied. "Not without current verification."
"Get
the director on the line—now! Don't send in Green Team until you've verified
with him. The Colombians were waiting for us—they knew about our meeting. The Colombians have intel on Operation Hangman.
Our men will be slaughtered."
The
line went dead.
T. C.
Archer is comprised of award winning authors Evan Trevane and Shawn M. Casey.
They live in the Northeast. Evan has a Ph.D. in electrical engineering, and
Shawn is a small business owner. Their collaboration began on a lark with the
post WWII film noir story The Pickle My Little Friend, and has evolved into
nearly a dozen works, which includes their new series The Phenom League, and
Daphne Du Maurier winner the romantic thriller For His Eyes Only.
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