Alpha One (Shadow Agents 1)

Two black SUVs waited for them. Logan steered her to the front one. Climbed in and slammed the door behind him.

As soon as he and Gunner were inside, the SUV started moving. The driver tossed back a cell phone to Logan. “Another mission down, Alpha One.”

She glanced over and found Logan’s eyes on her. Should a man’s gaze really feel like a burn? His did.

He had the cell to his ear. Who was he calling already?

“Alpha One checking in,” he said into the phone

. “Package delivered safely.”

Being referred to as a package grated. She wasn’t a package. She was a person.

Juliana glanced away from him. Empty landscape flew by them. Miles of dry dirt, dotted occasionally by small bursts of struggling green brush.

“Sir?” Logan’s voice was tight as he talked to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

The called ended. Short. Sweet.

“Juliana...” He caught her right hand. Oh, now he was back to touching? “I’m sorry,” he told her, and he actually sounded as if he was.

Curious now, she glanced over at him. “For what?”

Logan’s handsome face was strained and his bright blue eyes told her the news was going to be very bad even before he said, “Senator James is dead.”

Chapter Three

The hits just kept on coming for her. Logan watched Juliana, clad in a black dress that skimmed her curves, as she bent and placed a red rose on her father’s closed casket.

No one had been able to glimpse the body—folks didn’t need to witness the sight left after a gunshot blast to the head.

His team had been with Juliana for the past four days. They’d stood guard, making sure that she returned to Jackson, Mississippi, without any further incident. Once in town, his team had taken over a group of rooms at a local hotel. He’d insisted that Juliana stay at the hotel, too, so that his team could keep a better eye on her. At first, she’d balked, but he hadn’t backed down. His instincts had been screaming at him, and Logan hadn’t wanted to let Juliana out of his sight.

He’d expected her to cry at the news of her father’s death. After all that she’d been through, she was entitled to her tears.

She hadn’t cried once.

Her back was too straight as she walked away from the casket. Mourners began to file past her. One after the other. All offering their condolences and stopping to give her a hug or a pat on the shoulder.

Logan watched from his position underneath the sweeping branches of a magnolia tree. The fresh scent of the magnolias was in the air. That scent had reminded him of her. The first time they’d kissed, they’d been under a magnolia tree. It had been raining.

She’d trembled against him.

“You know what we have to do,” Gunner said from beside him.

Logan spared him a glance. Gunner’s gaze was on Juliana, his face tense. Gunner was the quiet type, quiet but deadly. A Spanish father and a Native American mother had given him dark gold skin and the instincts of a hunter. He’d been trained early on a reservation, learned to hunt and stalk prey at his grandfather’s knee. A lethal SOB, Gunner was one of the few people on earth who Logan actually called friend. He was also the best SEAL sniper that Logan had ever met.

“Knowing it and liking it...” Logan said with a sigh and tried to force his tense body to relax. “Those are two very different things.” But the orders had come down from high above. There wasn’t a choice on this one.

With the senator out of the picture, Juliana was now their key to cracking Guerrero.

She’d created the sketches for them. Of Guerrero’s goons and of the man she’d called John. Perfect sketches that had even included slight moles on some of the men. Her artist’s eyes had noted their every feature. Juliana truly was a perfect witness.

One that Guerrero would never let escape.

It was the picture of John Gonzales that intrigued Logan and his men the most. An innocent man, or so Juliana claimed. Another hostage who’d been taken and tortured by Guerrero.

Except John Gonzales wasn’t listed as missing in any database. He wasn’t turning up in any intel from the CIA or the FBI. As far as they were concerned, John Gonzales didn’t exist.