Quest For Justice

Quest For Justice
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RISKY ALLIANCEWhen her private investigator father is murdered, Bailey Cox stares down danger to find those responsible…and comes face to face with the cop who arrested her six years ago. But to uncover the secret that got her father killed, her former enemy must become her current ally. Franklin Kennedy’s not convinced he can trust the former thief, but he needs her computer hacking skills to crack this case. What the hard-nosed detective doesn't need is a soft spot for Bailey. But when their investigation leads them to international hired guns, Franklin realizes his mistake: he's put Bailey in their crosshairs…and time's running out to save her.

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RISKY ALLIANCE

When her private investigator father is murdered, Bailey Cox stares down danger to find those responsible...and comes face-to-face with the cop who arrested her six years ago. But to uncover the secret that got her father killed, her former enemy must become her current ally. Franklin Kennedy’s not convinced he can trust the ex-thief, but he needs her computer-hacking skills to crack this case. What the hard-nosed detective doesn’t need is a soft spot for Bailey. But when their investigation leads them to international hired guns, Franklin realizes his mistake: he’s put Bailey in their crosshairs...and time’s running out to save her.

The first bullet ripped into the seat by her shoulder.

Bailey hunched over as the second cracked the windshield. Frank didn’t wait for the third. He gunned the engine, pulling an evasive maneuver down a side street, and heard their tail screech in protest.

“Stay down!” Suddenly the black sedan swung behind them at the same time Frank noticed a semi ahead. He drove around the truck, using it as a shield and giving them the seconds they needed to get away.

After a couple of miles, he pulled over and helped her up. “Are you okay?” When she nodded, he said, “I’m taking you home now.”

“No!” she said, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve come this far. I can’t give up.”

“Bailey, someone knows we’re investigating this case and is trying to stop us. It probably goes way beyond that one man that was shooting at our car.”

“Don’t you realize one of those men already succeeded in killing my father?”

“And now they’re trying to kill us.”

Dear Reader,

Although this book is a work of fiction, many of my ideas came from researching the pain and suffering that occurred in Albania in 1999. War is horrific, and oftentimes has unintended consequences.

The characters in this book are flawed, just like the rest of us, but, with God’s help, they manage to grow during their trials. My hope is that this book will encourage you to see the beauty around you and remember that God is always with you; He will never leave you or forsake you, no matter what the circumstances.

Thank you for sharing your time with me!

Kathleen Tailer

KATHLEEN TAILER is a senior attorney II who works for the Supreme Court of Florida in the office of the state courts administrator. She graduated from Florida State University College of Law after earning her BA from the University of New Mexico. She and her husband have eight children, five of whom they adopted from the state of Florida. She enjoys photography and playing drums on the worship team at Calvary Chapel, Thomasville, Georgia.

Quest for Justice

Kathleen Tailer


www.millsandboon.co.uk

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

—Isaiah 40:31

For my wonderful husband, Jim, and my amazing children: Bethany, Keandra, Jessica, Nathan, Anna, Megan, Joshua and James. It has been my honor to watch you grow into such fine, courageous adults. I’m delighted to see how God is using you each and every day to make the world a better place. God has truly blessed me!

ONE

Bailey Cox eased carefully up to the corner of the building, her 9 mm Glock locked and loaded, but pointed at the darkened sky above her. Her finger tensed near the trigger as she moved slowly along the wall, sticking to the shadows. Her heart slammed wildly against her chest. She heard movement up ahead and voices, but they were muffled and she couldn’t recognize them, or hear what they were saying. All she could tell was that they were angry. She moved closer, still not sure what to make of the situation. Her father, a private investigator, had texted her half an hour ago, asking her to rush over to his office because he’d had a break in the case he was working on and he needed her help.

Even though it was after 2:00 a.m., she hadn’t hesitated and had headed out the door as soon as she had received her father’s message. Bailey was used to staying up late and actually did her best thinking in the wee hours of the morning. She hadn’t expected trouble but was now glad that she always traveled with her pistol.

When she’d arrived at her father’s office, she’d found the door cracked open and the small office abandoned. The light had still been on, and her father’s coffee was still steaming on his desk, so he had to be nearby. It wasn’t like him to call her and then not be there when she arrived. A tingle of fear shot down her spine. She’d heard noises in the alley behind her father’s office building and had followed them, having no other clues to lead her.

The voices got louder. She eased around another corner and could barely make out two men arguing near a dark sedan parked by the Dumpster. The trunk door was open, and the men were gesturing toward its contents with angry waves. To her disappointment, neither man was her father. Still, she was glued to the argument as it played out in front of her. One of the men, dressed in a dark sweatshirt, moved closer to the car and kicked angrily at the bumper. They weren’t arguing in a language she understood, which ruled out English, Spanish and French. If anything, she guessed it sounded Slavic, but she was no expert. A soft light emanated from a nearby street lamp, but it wasn’t giving off enough light to help her identify either of the two men. Both had pale skin. The one in the sweatshirt had dark bushy hair. The other was in jeans and a black T-shirt and had dirty blond hair. Both were muscular and well built. The blond’s face was red and seemed to darken with each passing minute as his anger consumed him. She edged closer.



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