Special Forces: The Spy Read online

  A secret agent kidnaps an undercover operative!

  The Mission Medusa series continues...

  To maintain his cover, spy Zane Cosworth kidnaps Medusa member Piper Ford. She might be trained to endure a hostage situation, but when one of her kidnappers continues to protect her from harm, she finds herself losing her heart. They flee for their lives, and the lines between enemy and lover begin to blur. But will they survive long enough to explore this new passion?

  “Don’t thank me. You should never have been here. Never gone through that.”

  Piper stared at him intently. Was he admitting that he’d purposely misidentified her? That it was his fault she was here?

  “Why did you—” she started.

  Zane cut her off, muttering quickly, “Not now. Not here, with them upstairs where they could hear something,”

  “Who are you?”

  “How’s your jaw?” he countered quietly.

  “Sore.”

  “Your side?”

  “Same.”

  “Any serious injuries you’re aware of?” he inquired.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because I’m freaking trying to keep you alive and in one piece to the best of my ability,” he snapped.

  * * *

  Mission Medusa: a fierce team of warriors who run into the danger zone...

  * * *

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  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the next installment in the ongoing adventures of the Medusas. I hope you’re having as much fun as I’m having with these stories of smart, sexy women warriors and the even hotter, sexier men they love.

  This story grew out of a mental game of what-ifs that I played with myself very late one night when I couldn’t get my brain to shut down and fall asleep. Two questions occurred to me, and it was out of those that this story was born. The first question was, what would happen if one of the Medusas was mistaken for a regular civilian woman who stumbled into an extraordinary situation?

  The second question was, what would a no kidding, actual enemies-to-lovers story look like? I’m not talking about a hero and a heroine who bicker while making goo-goo eyes at each other before jumping into the sack and swearing their undying love. I’m talking about a man and a woman who are legitimately pitted against each other in some sort of life-and-death struggle. What would happen if they accidentally fell in love with each other?

  And voilà! After one terrible night’s sleep, several more weeks of working out the details of the story and several more months of writing it down, Piper and Zane’s love story had taken shape.

  So, make yourself comfortable, pour your favorite beverage and buckle up for one wild ride as Piper Ford and Zane Cosworth collide...and fall madly in love, of course...

  Happy reading!

  Cindy

  SPECIAL FORCES:

  THE SPY

  Cindy Dees

  New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Cindy Dees is the author of more than fifty novels. She draws upon her experience as a US Air Force pilot to write romantic suspense. She’s a two-time winner of the prestigious RITA® Award for romance fiction, a two-time winner of the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award for Romantic Suspense and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Best Author Award nominee. She loves to hear from readers at www.cindydees.com.

  Books by Cindy Dees

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Mission Medusa

  Special Forces: The Recruit

  Special Forces: The Spy

  The Coltons of Roaring Springs

  Colton Under Fire

  Code: Warrior SEALs

  Undercover with a SEAL

  Her Secret Spy

  Her Mission with a SEAL

  Navy SEAL Cop

  Soldier’s Last Stand

  The Spy’s Secret Family

  Captain’s Call of Duty

  Soldier’s Rescue Mission

  Her Hero After Dark

  Breathless Encounter

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Excerpt from Navy SEAL Bodyguard by Tawny Weber

  Chapter 1

  Relishing the morning sunshine pouring through her cozy bungalow’s kitchen window, Piper Ford poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to catch up on current events. Of course, she didn’t bother with newspapers. Instead, she browsed the classified briefing she and her teammates got each day covering every hot spot in the world.

  It was one of the best perks of being a Medusa. She loved knowing the dirt that few besides her all-female Special Forces team had access to. But then, she always had been a poli-sci geek. Even at West Point, she’d reveled in getting into political debates with her classmates and instructors.

  Her cell phone rang and she picked it up. Her next-door neighbor was calling. Susan and her six-year-old son, Jack, had welcomed her warmly to the neighborhood when she bought this place a few months back.

  Piper had a particular fondness for the little boy, and he for her. Jack was a cool kid—funny, curious and smart as heck.

  “Hi, Sus. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Piper. I’m stuck at the hospital. My day replacement called in sick at the last minute, and they can’t find a nurse to sub in. I’m stuck in the ICU pulling a double shift. But my babysitter can’t stay late this morning. Is there any chance you could run Jack over to his school on your way to work?”

  “When does he need to be there?”

  “Eight fifteen.”

  The Medusas had training at nine, but it was only about a twenty-minute drive from the town of Houma, Louisiana, to their classified facility, Training Site Vanessa, usually referred to as the TSV. It was tucked next to the Mandalay National Wildlife Refuge, deep in the bayous of southern Louisiana.

  “Yeah, sure. I can drop him off on my way to work. Will he be ready to go around eight?”

  “He should be. Rosie feeds him breakfast, gets him dressed and packs his lunch. I really am sorry about the last-minute notice. You’re an angel. I owe you one.”

  Piper laughed, “I’m hardly an angel.”

  “Shrimp étouffée? My place, this weekend?” Susan offered.

  “Deal. I’ll bring the wine.”

  Piper dressed in jeans and a casual white oxford shirt, befitting her cover story of being a civilian historian researching pirate activity in this part of southern Louisiana.

  She stuffed the daily intel brief into her backpack, along with her pistol, some basic survival gear she felt naked without and a uniform for running around in the woods with the Medusas. Vietnamese Special Forces
instructors were in town this week teaching her and her teammates advanced jungle camouflage and ambush tactics—key skills for Special Forces operators like the Medusas.

  Piper backed her little sports car out of the garage and pulled into the driveway next door. Susie’s salmon pink front door opened and Jack darted out, all restless energy. Piper pushed the passenger door open for him and waved at Rosie, the babysitter, who followed him out the door at a more sedate pace, locking it behind her.

  “Thanks for taking Jack to school!” Rosie called. “I have a doctor’s appointment today in New Orleans, and I’m gonna be late as it is.”

  “No problem!” Piper called back. As Jack tumbled into the car beside her, she admonished, “Buckle your seat belt, squirt.”

  A bolt of envy for Susan and regret for opportunities lost shot through Piper’s gut at the sight of Jack. Longing for a child tugged at her—longing for a family of her own. She’d have thought she would be over the sense of hollow emptiness for the children she would never have by now, given the career she’d picked. But it turned out biological clocks were powerful little bastards.

  It had been a trade-off, and she’d made her choice. She had arguably one of the coolest jobs on the planet. But the sacrifice in return was no time for a private life.

  In point of technical fact, she supposed a personal life was possible. But that would entail finding a man who didn’t mind his partner being a lethally trained special operator, prone to running off at a moment’s notice to who knew where to face who knew what danger.

  The only man besides her boss who even knew the Medusas existed at this point was Captain Beau Lambert, the Medusas’ operations officer. And her teammate, Tessa Wilkes, had that man locked down tight. The two of them were engaged and had set a wedding date next year. They made a great couple. Goo-goo eyes flew thick and fast whenever they were in the same room.

  But that left her without any eligible prospects in the love department.

  “I like riding in your car, Miss Piper.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cuz your car doesn’t have a back seat, and I get to sit in front.”

  “When you get bigger, your mom will let you sit in front with her.”

  “That’s what she says. I’m eatin’ as much as I can so I’ll get big really fast.”

  “Patience, grasshopper. You’ll be all grown-up before you know it. Enjoy being a kid while you can.”

  “Don’t you like being a grown-up?”

  “I do most of the time. But it’s a lot easier being a kid. And more fun.”

  “My mama says you have a super boring job.”

  Piper mentally snorted. If Susan only knew the truth. The poor woman would run screaming from Piper. She smiled serenely. “I like my job.”

  “Lucky dog. I hate school. I suck at it.”

  “You do not. I happen to know you rock at all your subjects.”

  “School’s boring.”

  “Maybe you’re just too smart for the first grade.”

  “Mama says I’m smarter than my teacher.”

  Piper laughed, “I can believe it.”

  They pulled up in front of Southdown Elementary School, a dark redbrick building that Piper privately thought looked more like a prison than a school. As Jack jumped out, she called after him, “Have a good day. And behave yourself!”

  He flashed her an impudent grin and dashed inside.

  She made it nearly halfway to the TSV before she happened to glance down and spied a brown paper bag on the floor of the passenger side of the car.

  Rats. Jack had forgotten his lunch.

  If she hit the stoplights exactly right, she had just enough time to zip back to his school, run his lunch inside and make it to the training site on time. The Medusas’ commanding officer, Major Gunnar Torsten, had no sense of humor whatsoever when it came to tardiness.

  Classes had started by the time she got back to the elementary school, and the drop-off area was deserted. Parking quickly, she grabbed Jack’s lunch and hurried inside. To the left of the front door was a large glassed-in office that looked like a reception area lined with institutional, Formica-topped desks. Several women sat at them. A little girl who looked about eight years old stood beside one, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  Piper stepped inside. “Is this where I drop off a lunch a student has forgotten?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just a minute.” The gray-haired woman who answered her went back to talking with the child. “Your mom says she’ll be here in ten minutes with your inhaler—” The woman broke off, staring at something behind Piper.

  A flurry of movement in the hallway outside caught Piper’s attention out the corner of her eye. Something—someone—adult-sized had just run past.

  Was there a problem?

  As she turned to take a better look, a man dressed all in black with a black ski mask over his face burst into the office. Piper flipped into combat mode in a millisecond, her senses going on high alert and adrenaline rushing to all her muscles.

  She noted several things at once. The weapon, held across the man’s body, was an AK-47 with an extended mag, and he handled it like he was familiar with it. He was a shade over six feet tall. Athletic in build. Moved fast and silently, rolling from heel to toe with each step. Like a Special Forces operator.

  “Everybody down!” he shouted.

  The three women at their desks started to scream, and the little girl awaiting the inhaler froze, staring up at the man in openmouthed terror, like a rabbit in front of a wolf.

  Stunned, Piper dropped to the floor with the other women. She was unarmed, alone and had no idea how many more men like this there were already inside the school. Terror and panic exploded in her gut in spite of all her Special Forces training.

  God. Not a school shooting. A worst-case scenario on all counts. Nonexpendables everywhere—children—completely unequipped to defend themselves from harm. Targets handily clustered together in classrooms. Limited egress points. Even more limited sight lines. Chaos guaranteed.

  Tragedy guaranteed.

  By force of will and outstanding training, she pushed back all the paralyzing feelings and focused on acting.

  Surreptitiously, she eased her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and dialed 9-1-1 by feel. She stuffed the phone under her hip lest the armed man brandishing the AK-47 hear the operator ask what the nature of her emergency was and kill her before she could answer.

  She eased her hip off the phone and shouted, “What do you want, barging into an elementary school with an automatic weapon like that?”

  “Quiet, or I’ll kill you!” the man shouted back. “Where’s Mrs. Black?”

  “She’s out sick today,” one of the other women quavered from the floor.

  Piper eased back on top of the phone, praying the emergency operator had gotten the idea and called for the SWAT team. And the FBI and the National Guard and whoever else could be called.

  Standoffs with kids caught in the middle were no picnic, but maybe when law enforcement got here, they could negotiate some sort of hostage release.

  She calculated her options at the speed of light. She could probably take out the lone armed man—she did have all the necessary unarmed-combat training and the element of surprise on her side.

  Question was, where were the other men she’d peripherally seen racing past, and how many of them were there? If she got the weapon away from this one, she could go hunting for the others...although hunting in a building full of children and teachers would be a dreadful environment for taking out bad guys. The odds of shooting an innocent bystander were far too high to risk.

  As those thoughts darted through her mind, the armed man did an odd thing. He strode over to the little girl, grabbed her by her upper arm, glanced around, then led her over to a tall wooden coat cabinet against the wall
.

  He opened the door, pushed her inside and said low, “Stay in there until the police come for you and don’t make a sound until then.”

  Piper stared, so confused she momentarily forgot her terror. Did the intruder just save that little girl? Why on earth would an armed assailant do something like that?

  He shut the closet door just before two more men raced into the office, dressed like him and similarly armed. Terrorist the First nodded tersely at his buddies.

  What in the hell was this about? What did a bunch of men, attired and armed like bank robbers, want with a freaking elementary school?

  “Where is she?” one of the newcomers demanded in Farsi. Piper’s Farsi wasn’t fluent, but that was definitely what she’d heard. These guys were Iranian? What on earth did they want here?

  The terrorists commenced walking around the room, examining each of the women cowering on the floor. One screamed as an assailant grabbed her shoulder and lifted her up enough to see her face. These guys were looking for somebody? This was a hell of a violent and aggressive way of finding whoever they wanted.

  The terrorists reached Piper, and she stared fixedly at their combat boots. Steel toes, nylon uppers, flexible rubber soles, quick-don zippers. Special operators’ footwear.

  Was this some sort of exercise aimed at her? The Medusas did some wild stuff in the name of training, but surely they wouldn’t scare the hell out of a bunch of kids and teachers. Nah. This was the real deal.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder roughly and threw her over onto her back. She rolled with the shove, not resisting. Unfortunately, the roll exposed her cell phone, and one of them kicked it away from her with his foot. Reflexively, her hand went out to retrieve it, but she froze as she made eye contact with the kicker.

  Clear amber eyes stared down at her, the color of a fine cognac. They were hard eyes, but they didn’t contain the rage or fanaticism she’d expected.

  He glanced at her outstretched hand splayed on the floor and did a double take. She swore mentally. Clearly visible on her fourth finger was her West Point class ring. In her guise as a civilian historian, she told people it had been her father’s, but it was actually hers.