is a two-time RITA>® Award recipient, winning Best Romantic Suspense Novel in 2000 and Best Romantic Novella in 2004. Gayle has also won a Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery and a Dorothy Parker International Reviewerâs Choice Award for Series Romance. Beyond those honors, her books have garnered more than fifty other awards and nominations, including a National Readersâ Choice Award for Best Romantic Suspense, won by Wednesdayâs Child, a novel from HQN Books.
Gayle holds a masterâs degree in secondary education, with additional certification in the education of the gifted. Although her specialty was honors and gifted, as a former high school history and English teacher, she taught everything from remedial reading to Shakespeareâand loved every minute she spent in the classroom.
Gayle was on the board of directors of Romance Writers of America for four years. In 2006 she served as president of RWA, the largest genre-writersâ organization in the world. Please visit her Web site at www.BooksByGayleWilson.com.
âWHATâS GOING ON here, Mac?â Jenny McCullar demanded. Her voice was soft, but her dark eyes were flashing. âWhat kind of game do the two of you think youâre playing?â
Mac knew he probably should have been expecting his wifeâs questions, except Jenny had never been one to fret or nag. And he thought she had learned a long time ago to live with the dangers inherent in his job as county sheriff.
But there had been a lot of pressure on both of them lately, unexpected stresses on a marriage that had been rock solid for the past five years. That was the reason he hadnât told her heâd asked his brother to come home this weekend. At least, he amended, that had been one of the reasons.
âI asked Chase to come down because I wanted his advice. Nothing more than that, Jenny.â
âJust a little advice about somebody running drugs?â she questioned. The muscles in the perfect, olive-toned oval of her face were tight, a small furrow forming between the winged brows.
That would have been a reasonable assumption, since Macâs brother had spent the last four years working for the DEA. Chase was someone who could certainly provide answers to what was going on and some advice about what Mac should expect. Jenny would have figured out eventually why his brother was here, except she hadnât had to. Almost as soon as Chase arrived, he had spilled the beans.
His brotherâs eyes had been full of contrition and apology when theyâd met Macâs, a matching set of clear McCullar blue. In Chaseâs there had also been a trace of surprise. Mac knew his brother couldnât believe heâd been keeping secrets from Jenny. âMaybe running drugs,â Mac hedged.
âIn this county?â Jennyâs voice was full of the same doubts Mac himself had had when he first began to suspect what was going on.
âBetter than seventy-five percent of the drugs that enter the States come across this border, and weâre sitting right in the middle of it. Why would you believe weâre immune?â
âBecauseâ¦thatâs never been a problem here,â Jenny said.
She was calmer now, but the fear was still in her eyes. She raised her hand, running small fingers distractedly through the gamine cut of her dark brown hair. âWhy do you thinkâ¦?â
The question faded as her intelligence and her knowledge of the way things worked along the border provided the answer to that unfinished question.
âThey made you an offer.â She spoke that sudden realization aloud. âOh, dear God, Mac, theyâve already approached you.â
Mac McCullar had never outright lied to Jenny, and he wasnât about to start now. Besides, she had a right to know. If the other hadnât been going on, he would already have told her.
The bribe heâd been offered had been huge and the warning that had accompanied it subtle, containing little overt threat of violence. That was the way it was done, of course, and not many people held out against the promise of that much money. Not given the salaries of law-enforcement officers. Not in a rural Texas county this size.
Sheriff Mac McCullar had been expecting the overture for months. It had probably been delayed only because of the location of his county, far from the Mexican cities where the drugs from South America were flown in. Or because of its distance from the major U.S. highways that led north into the American heartland.
But law-enforcement efforts were increasing on both sides of the border, squeezing the dealers who had been operating at the major crossing points. Mac had known it was only a matter of time until someone realized that this isolated stretch would be perfect for bringing drugs across.