The return of the wife he thought was lost and a baby he never knew existed will make this a Christmas to remember...
Captain Connor McGinnis has seen a ghost. Staring at a surveillance photo of a Kaziri immigrant, there can be no mistaking that the starkly beautifuland visibly pregnantwoman in a head scarf is his wife, Risa. The woman he presumed was dead after her plane crashed into the ocean.
Risa McGinnis, relocated by the CIA when they learned of a price on her head, has settled into the guise of a widowed immigrant. Confronting Connor again resurrects sweet memories and a burning passion. But until this unknown enemy is captured, Risa must focus more on Connors protection than on their attraction. After all, the strength of her marriageand the safety of her babydepends on it...
Resourceful, he thought. That was Risa.
He felt a familiar tug low in his gut, a pull of attraction and admiration and awe, all wrapped up in one small, brilliant woman. And then, like a slow-rolling detonation, the delayed impact of the reality hed been tamping down beneath his game face finally hit him with devastating force.
Shes alive.
Shock waves of pent-up emotion blew through him, and he ended up dropping to the cold bus stop bench before his knees buckled.
He took several deep breaths, his heart hammering as if hed run for miles. Risa sat beside him, her compact body warm, and she put her hand on his arm.
Whats wrong?
How could he tell her what he was feeling when he couldnt trust the emotions? Yes, he was thrilled beyond words that she was alive. He had mourned her deeply, longed for her when she was no longer within his reach, but those feelings seemed to belong to another person.
A person who couldnt have imagined that his wife would let him believe she was dead when she was very much alive.
And carrying his child.
Kentucky Confidential
Paula Graves
www.millsandboon.co.uk
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When shes not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website, www.paulagraves.com.
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Connor McGinnisHis wife, Risa, died in a terrorist attack almost eight months ago. Or did she? A surveillance photo of a pregnant Kaziri immigrant leads the former Marine on a search for the truth. But can he live with what he finds?
Risa McGinnis, aka Yasmin HamaniShes come to terms with living a lie to protect herself and the child shes carrying. But when the past she left behind storms into her new life, everything shes fought to preserve may be destroyed.
Martin DalrympleRisas only contact with her past has gone silent. Why has he stopped communication with her? Is his own life in danger?
Alexander Quinn, Maddox Heller and Rebecca CameronConnors bosses at Campbell Cove Security Services have promised their support in his search for the truth about his dead wife.
Farid RahimiRisas boss at the restaurant where she works undercover as a waitress named Yasmin pings her danger radar. But why?
Tahir MahmoodThe brutal terrorist was presumed dead after an explosion years ago. But is it possible hes still alive? And could he be behind the ongoing threats to Risas life?
Jesse CooperConvinced someone high in the government may be trying to kill Risa, Connor reaches out to this security expert with experience dealing with government conspiracies.
Leland GarrettIs the Homeland Security agent friend or foe?
For my editor, Allison, whose Raylan Givens
love led to this series.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
Shes dead, Connor McGinnis whispered, though his eyes declared the words a lie.
On the street below his window, the woman he was surveilling tugged her faded coat more tightly around her swollen belly and waited for the chance to cross the street. A light wind swept snow flurries in small white eddies down the street and threatened to whip the gauzy roosari from her head. Grabbing the scarf as it slid down to reveal the dark luster of her wavy hair, she tugged it back into place, but not before he got a look at her face.
Her intimately familiar face.
She looked tired and careworn, but there were no signs that shed been injured. Of course, the crash had happened months earlier. She might have had time to heal from even a serious injury.
Though how shed survived the blast in the first place...
He tamped down a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Not yet. Emotions on the battlefield could be deadly. And if Risa was still alive, he was already engaged in a war he hadnt known about only a few days ago.
If Risa was still alive. He couldnt quite bring himself to believe it yet, no matter what his eyes were telling him. Hed seen news footage of the wreckage found floating in the water off the coast of Japan. Even if someone had survived the bomb blast that sent the jet hurtling into the Pacific Ocean, no one would have come out of that crash unscathed. And Risas name was on the passenger manifest, which meant shed gotten on the plane.
He didnt know how this woman could be Risa, no matter how much she looked like her.
Except there were ways to fake passenger manifests, werent there? Ways to fool transportation security. It was one of the biggest nightmares facing national security agencies worldwide.
Traffic cleared momentarily, and the woman started across the street. Her gaze darted around, right and left, in front and behind, as she made the short transit from one corner to another.
Hypervigilant, he thought.
Reasonable, he supposed, for a refugee from war-torn Kaziristan.
Or for a woman hiding from her past.
Stop. Its not Risa. It cant be.
He was grasping at straws. Letting what he wanted get in the way of what actually was.
That was a good way to drive himself insane. He had to keep his emotions out of the equation. Think logically. Deal in facts.
If Risa had survived the crash, shed have found a way to let him know.
Wouldnt she?
He lost sight of the womanthe woman who couldnt possibly be Risaas she turned at the corner and walked under the narrow awnings of the storefronts below the shabby apartment hed rented earlier that morning. He resisted the urge to run to the ground floor and follow her down the street. It wasnt time to make that particular move.
Not yet.
If ten years of combat had taught Connor McGinnis nothing else, it had shown him the value of patience.
* * *
SHE WAS BEING WATCHED.
Inside her apartment, the woman known as Yasmin Hamani locked the door behind her and paused in the entryway to listen. The apartment building was old, prone to settling with creaks and groans of aged wood and plaster, but she didnt sense the presence of another living being within the walls of the small one-bedroom apartment. Still, she unlocked the drawer of the table by the door and withdrew her compact Glock 23, feeling instantly safer.
These days, it was harder to carry a weapon than rely on her disguise to keep her safe. None of her shoulder-carry holsters fit comfortably anymore, thanks to the swell of her pregnant belly. And forget trying to work with any sort of waistband holster.
She made a circuit of the empty apartment with the Glock in hand before she finally relaxed and put the weapon on the side table where she could easily reach it. She removed the roosari covering her hair, relieved to be shed of it for a while. She wasnt Muslim, but the majority of the Kaziri refugees who lived in this section of Over-the-Rhine were, and she donned the head scarf as both protection and concealment.
It was unlikely shed run across anyone shed dealt with during her years in Kaziristan, but a dead woman couldnt be too careful. She couldnt afford to stand out.
The baby was fussy this afternoon, turning flips in her womb. Impatient, perhaps, to greet the world outside. Yasmin rubbed her bulging belly, smiling a little at the thumps of the babys kicks against her palms, strong and reassuring.
The baby was her reason for everything she did these days.
She eased into her desk chair, now used to the dull pain in the small of her back from carrying the tiny burden inside her. She typed in the complex password to her laptop computer and checked her email for any message from her former handler.
Nothing.
She sighed, leaning against the back of the chair. If someone had seen through her cover, apparently Martin Dalrymple didnt know about it.
Which meant what? That she was imagining things?
Working in covert operations had a way of making a person see shadows where none existed. Operatives got used to paranoia. Expecting the worst, seeing threats everywhere you looked, kept you vigilant. And vigilance kept you alive. But shed thought she was done with that life. She had started a new life, one that wouldnt include dead drops and secret identities. One that included stability and trust. Love.
She should have known better.
The baby kicked again, reminding her that she hadnt lost everything. The pregnancy had come as a shock, a complication her analytical mind had deemed an unacceptable risk.
But her heart had wrapped itself around the tiny life growing inside her like a coat of armor, determined to keep the baby safe from danger.
She would give her baby the life he or she deserved, no matter what it took. Somehow, shed figure out a way to do it.
But she didnt think it could be here in Cincinnati.
She sent a coded email message to Dalrymple, trying to be as oblique as possible so that even if someone managed to break the cipher, hed still have to figure out what the hell she was talking about. While Dalrymple knew her well enough to understand what she was trying to tell him, there wasnt anyone else in the world who knew her that well.
Not anymore, anyway.
The baby gave another kick. She was only four weeks away from her due date, though her obstetrician seemed to think she might deliver late. First babies often took their own sweet time.