SHEâS NOT SAFE YET
When Staci Hayes is rescued from a Mideast prison by navy SEAL Tristan Sawyer, she thinks the ordeal is over. But back in San Diego, a new threat arises. Staci has information that could prevent a hit on U.S. soil, and the terrorist will stop at nothing to silence her. Tristan insists on being her bodyguard, but his constant presence makes her long for things beyond her reach. Protecting Staci is the second chance Tristan needs to put the past behind him. Yet with a spy on the naval base, anyone could be a threat. Can he offer her safetyâ¦and love?
Men of Valor: These navy SEALs were born to excelâ¦.
âYou said I was safe. You said youâd protect me.â
âI did. You made it safely home, didnât you?â His words were short but not unkind.
âI made it home, anyway.â
Those blue eyes sliced into hers.
âWhat does that mean?â
âSomeone has been following me, and I think itâs the same man from Lybania.â
His arms crossed over his broad chest, the sleeves of his T-shirt pulling snug around his biceps. He looked so intimidating.
âDid you call the police? Tell them youâre being stalked, and they can look into it for you. They can handle things like that.â
âThey wouldnât help me.â If she had any idea how to face down the man following her on her own, she would. But since she didnât, she had to convince the lieutenant to help.
Taking a firm step toward him, she pointed her finger toward his chest. âListen to me. Iâm in trouble, but itâs not just me. I donât know the name of the man whoâs after me, but I know what I heard. Heâs plotting to blow something upâ¦here in San Diego.â
LIZ JOHNSON
After graduating from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff with a degree in public relations, Liz Johnson set out to work in the Christian publishing industry, which was her lifelong dream. In 2006 she got her wish when she accepted a publicity position with a major trade book publisher. While working as a publicist in the industry, she decided to pursue her other dreamâbecoming an author. Along the way to having her novels published, she wrote articles for several magazines and worked as a freelance editorial consultant.
Liz makes her home in Nashville, Tennessee, where she enjoys theater, exploring her new home and making frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nephew and three nieces. She loves stories of true love with happy endings.
The Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.
âIsaiah 61:1
For sweet friends who have encouraged me along this journey and fell for these SEALs right along with me.
Ashley Boyer, Staci Carmichael Havlik, Jessica Barnes, Amy Haddock, Kaye Dacus, Kristi Smith, and Katie Bond, my life is richer for knowing you.
Thanks for the brainstorms, book talk, and belly laughs.
ONE
Lt. Tristan Sawyer whispered into the mic that brushed the corner of his mouth. âRock, are you in position?â
Night hung over him like a blanket, wrapping up all of his senses, except his hearing, as he waited for the sound of his senior chiefâs voice. âAffirmative.â
Across the street Petty Officer Will Gumble lurked next to the window of a crumbling single-story home. The houseânot even a mile from the Persian Gulfâhad been cleaned out, probably weeks ago, and Willie G. had swept it again to make sure there wouldnât be any surprises when they moved in on their target.
He took two short breaths and lifted his night vision goggles, giving the street another check. It was deserted except for the five stonelike figures hidden along the street. He spotted them only because he knew they were there. Heâd scouted and scoped each location in preparation for this moment. Heâd studied the maps and floor plans, packed his gear and prepared his mind.
All for this moment.
His blood began to pump harder, picking up speed. He tightened, then loosened his grip on the weapon in his hand, forcing his breath into a steady rhythm and his heart into an even pattern.
He was ready. But he had to wait for the signal that their boats were nearly in place at the extraction point. If they moved too soon, theyâd recover the âpackagesââthree American hostagesâbut have no place to deliver them. If they waited too long, they left the inflatable boats open to discovery.
Timing was everything, so he schooled his muscles, keeping them alert yet relaxed until the signal.
A double click came through his earpiece.
Time to rock and roll.
âLetâs go.â Just like theyâd practiced, he swung around the back of the building where Senior Chief Matt Waterstone, also known as Rock, wrenched open a window on the basement level and slid into the darkness below. Tristan followed suit until his shoulder caught on the frame. He wiggled, his feet still not quite on the floor.