His survival skills might not be enough this time.
Mick Savin is new to the Smithson Group, but he’s an old hand at danger. Even so, he never expects to be beaten and left for dead in the New Mexico desert while on assignment. Waking up in a medical center in rural West Texas comes with a lot of questions. He begins piecing together the last few days, and wonders what the woman who saved him is hiding… and why he can’t walk away.
Neva Case happened to be in the right place at the right time to save Mick’s life. But his recuperating in her home isn’t going to work. Not with what she has at stake—though the attraction between them has her wishing he could stay forever. But when the underground shelter she runs for girls escaping abuse is threatened, Mick’s expertise is put to good use. Now all they have to do is survive.
“Larger-than-life hero and nonstop action keep suspense high… Heart-wrenching secondary romance adds emotional intensity and depth to this compelling tale.” — RT Book Reviews
“Excellent realistic humanized storyline, romance and great read.” — Murphy, Amazon reviewer, 5 Stars
“Ms. Kent’s trademark sensuality, as well as her fast-paced read are all present in this latest adddition to the SG-5 series. This is one read that I suggest that you add to your summer reading list!” — Romance Designs
It wasn’t until she heard footsteps behind her that she managed to go blessedly numb.
She lifted her chin, lifted her gaze, watched the figure of a man come toward her like a ghost out of the dark. Once he was near enough for her to see him better, her being numb came in handy. She couldn’t react. Not to his camo fatigues. Not to his assault rifle. Not to the knife hanging from his belt halfway down his thigh.
When he reached her, he held out a hand. She gave him her fingers, eerily white against his black skin, and he pulled her to her feet. Then he pointed toward the sky.
“Do you know of the North Star, Miss Mitchell?”
Oh, God, he knew her name. He knew her name! It sounded strange when he said it; his accent reminded her of the rapper Sean Paul that Jase was constantly listening to. It was like Jamaican or something . . .
“Miss Mitchell? The North Star?”
She nodded, her teeth chattering as she found the point in the sky. “My folks used to take me and my brother camping when we lived in California. Before they got all into Jesus and we moved here.” At least here she’d met Jase. They were like two peas in a pod, both hating Earnestine.
Or at least they had been . . . “What happened to Jase? Where is he? He didn’t mean anything bad by taking that money. We just both want to get out of this town-”
“You must do what I say now, Miss Mitchell, and not worry about your Mr. Bremmer. Do you understand?” He took her by the shoulders, turned her to face him. “There is nothing you can do for him now.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, wondering if her hair would look as good as his did in dreadlocks, wondering if she would ever see Jase again, wondering where she was going to go because she couldn’t go home.
Wondering how anyone could be so nice when he took the bandana from his head and used it to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“You follow the North Star for an hour and you will come to the county highway. You walk and you do not speak of tonight to anyone. You do not ask questions. You act as if none of what you heard or saw happened. If you do, you may very possibly die. And I may very possibly be the one to kill you. Do you understand?”
She didn’t understand anything. “Nothing,” she wanted to scream. Instead, she asked, “Where am I supposed to go?”
“You are only supposed to walk. That is all that you can do now.” He placed his hand in the middle of her back and pushed. “Now go. Go before it is too late.”
She’d only gone twenty steps when her shoe came off. She was not going to be able to walk like this for an hour and turned back to tell him so, but he was nowhere to be seen.
God, if her parents hadn’t gotten all righteous and moved here for the family’s spiritual good, she would have dozens of places to go and people to help her. If she actually made it to the highway, maybe she could hitch to El Paso and find a library where she could get on the internet.
She had to find that Website. The one she’d overheard Sherry Petersen whisper about to Teresa Monaghan the day after Sherry’s sister went missing and her wedding to Mr. Gaston was canceled.
Sherry swore her sister was with the woman who ran the rescue shelter for girls escaping the arranged marriages in Earnestine. What was it? What was it?
All Liberty could remember was something about a barn.