Lethal Exposure

UNDER THE NAVY SEAL’S PROTECTION

When single mother and photographer Rebecca Grey’s home is invaded, she calls former navy SEAL Conrad “Jack” Jackson. Though she’d never betray her late husband’s memory by falling for his fellow soldier, she’s desperate for Jack’s help. Rebecca is in possession of photos that can expose a plot to sell priceless artwork stolen from a Middle Eastern palace. Now a dangerous enemy wants her to either surrender the pictures...or her life. Jack promised his best friend he’d lay down his life for Rebecca and her daughters. And as the danger lurks ever closer, that’s just what he may have to do to save her.

Navy SEAL Defenders: Bound by honor and dedicated to protection.

There was no way out.

Their assailant kept firing, and glass rained down on them.

“Jack, we’re trapped.”

“Barricade yourself in the closet and call 9-1-1.”

“What about you?”

A shot pinged against the door frame, and she screamed. “Go,” Jack urged her. “I’ll hold them off.”

Rebecca followed his command.

The gunshots outside the door stopped and an ominous silence descended. “Jack, are you there? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” But his reply was filled with pain.

She turned the knob to go to his aid, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“I locked it,” he said. “Stay where you are. I got this covered.”

“You were never a good liar,” she replied. “You’re hurt. I can tell.”

“You’re not such a great liar yourself. You can tell yourself a million times that we’re not meant to be together, but it’ll never make it true.” His voice turned into a guttural growl, as though he were gritting his teeth against pain.

The sounds of gunshots once again filled her ears. Then she noticed a dark trickle weaving its way under the crack of the door. She touched it. Blood!

She heard the click of his gun. He was wounded and out of ammunition…and their assailant kept coming.

ELISABETH REES was raised in the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye where her father was the parish vicar. She attended Cardiff University and gained a degree in politics. After meeting her husband, they moved to the wild, rolling hills of Carmarthenshire, and Elisabeth took up writing. She is now a full-time wife, mother and author. Find out more about Elisabeth at elisabethrees.com.

Lethal Exposure

Elisabeth Rees

He guides the humble in what is right

and teaches the humble His way.

—Psalms 25:9

For my mother

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

“911. What is your emergency?”

The operator’s voice was calm and soft on the other end of the line. Alone in her home, Rebecca Grey was terrified.

“There’s someone in my house,” she said. “I’ve locked myself in the bathroom.”

Rebecca tried to control her rapid breathing. She was in danger of having a panic attack.

“Stay where you are and I’ll dispatch a police vehicle to your location immediately. Seventy-five Charleston Road?”

“No, it’s Charles Road, not Charleston Road.”

“I’ll amend the address. Can you please confirm your name, ma’am?”

“Rebecca Grey.”

“Deputies from the County Sherriff’s Office are on their way, Ms. Grey. To assist them in finding your house, can you tell me—”

The line suddenly went dead. Rebecca looked in horror at the cordless handset cradled in her right hand. The digital display was blank: the power was out. She pressed the flat edge of the telephone to her forehead and sank to the cool floor tiles of the bathroom. The black-and-white tiling was the only thing that stood out in the enveloping darkness of 3:00 a.m. It was the beautiful art deco–style bathroom that had persuaded her to buy the house ten years ago. She would never have believed back then that she would, one day, be looking at the fan-shaped light fixtures, wondering if she could use them as a weapon. At least her children were spending the night with their grandmother and out of harm’s way.

She pushed herself to her feet, pulling her flannel robe around her pajamas and securing it tightly with the cord. She didn’t keep a gun in the house. That had been a constant source of disagreement with her late husband. As a navy SEAL, he believed he saw the worst side of human nature, and he wanted his wife and children to be able to defend themselves. She saw it differently. Her view of atrocities had always been softened by the lens of a camera. She had taken pictures of plenty of traumatic events during her time as a war photographer, but the camera always seemed to be her shield. It protected her in a way she couldn’t explain. She had been in some of the most dangerous places in the world but never felt threatened because she had always simply been an observer. Now she was a potential target.

She put the phone in the sink and grabbed hold of one of the heavy, frosted-glass light fixtures attached to the wall. She positioned her thumbs on the carved etching of a 1920s figure and pulled down as hard as she could.