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    Deadly Assignment: Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy, #3
    Deadly Assignment: Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy, #3
    Deadly Assignment: Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy, #3
    Ebook138 pages1 hour

    Deadly Assignment: Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy, #3

    By Alex Ander

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    About this ebook

    The excitement is fast-paced in this action-packed witness protection thriller where a former military man and a female FBI agent are thrust into a desperate struggle for survival.

    30-year-old Special Forces soldier turned covert agent Aaron Hardy and FBI Special Agent Raychel DelaCruz are sent on an urgent assignment to pick up a witness, a witness who narrowly escaped an assault on a safe house less than an hour ago. The meeting goes sideways, however, and the duo is forced into a kill-or-be-killed scenario.

    Outnumbered, outgunned, and waging a losing battle, the couple make a last stand at an FBI safe house. But with the enemy closing in around them, Hardy and DelaCruz must rely on not only their close-quarters combat skills but also their wits if they intend to save the witness and live to see another day.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAlex Ander
    Release dateJun 1, 2016
    ISBN9781533705679
    Deadly Assignment: Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy, #3
    Author

    Alex Ander

    A big-time fan of thrillers (books and movies) for over 40 years, Alex Ander writes globe-trekking action thrillers packed with fistfights, gunfights, and heart-pounding excitement and adventure. Alex has written more than 20 books in the military/law enforcement genre. And as an avid gun enthusiast, he cringes right along with you when a magazine is called a “clip.” That’s why you can always trust him to get the firearm terminology correct. Currently, Alex has produced five different series with main characters from the U.S. Marines, Army Rangers, FBI, U.S. Marshals Service, and the CIA's Special Operations Group. And a possible sixth series is in the works featuring an ex-military man putting his deadly skills to use as a private contractor helping others. Living in Michigan with his wife, Alex spends some of his spare time painting landscapes, playing the harmonica, reading books, and watching action thrillers.

    Read more from Alex Ander

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      Book preview

      Deadly Assignment - Alex Ander

      Chapter 1

      Charity

      16 September—4:37 p.m.

      South of Dallas, Texas

      Slouching in the backseat of a four-door black sedan, Charity Sinclair stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Tinged red, her shoulder-length dark hair was tousled. Individual locks and strands stuck out on either side of her head. Her vision obscured by a large lock, she pushed the curl away from her face, letting the hair slide between her fingers. Her dark and large eyes were set beneath dark eyebrows. Red plastic spectacles rested on her short, slender nose.

      Despite her many attractive features, her smile caught people’s attention first. Behind her wide mouth and full lips, which she loved to color with red lipstick, a broad smile revealed large white teeth. When she beamed, no one could resist the urge to return the gesture. Men were enchanted by it. Women were jealous of it. Children were drawn to it.

      Charity’s eyes shifted to the man in the driver’s seat.

      His chin rested on his chest, his head cocked slightly to the right. One leg supported a hand—palm up, and bright red—the result of his efforts to stop the flow of blood from a fatal bullet wound.

      She gaped at him. What have I gotten myself into? Several moments passed while the body in the front seat held her gaze.

      A nearby crow cawed.

      Shutting her eyes, she removed her eyeglasses, set them on her lap, and rubbed her eyes with the heels of both palms. I have to do something. Sitting back here isn’t going to save my life. She slipped on her glasses, placed a hand on the front seat, and twisted her upper body.

      After peering through the back window and seeing no other cars in sight, Charity unfolded her five-six, one-fifteen-pound body from the driver’s side backseat. Her slim figure gave her the appearance of a taller woman with longer legs. The lines of her bust, waist, and hips flowed gracefully down her body, creating the proverbial hourglass outline.

      With her fingers curled over the top of the doorframe and her right foot still inside the vehicle, she whipped her head left and right, her hair flying over one shoulder and then the other.

      The area was deserted.

      She squinted through a stand of trees on the other side of the road, her eyes straining to make out a few far away buildings and distant cars. She glanced up and down the two lanes of asphalt. I can’t stay here much longer. If those men find me, they’ll kill me for sure. She slammed the door. They found me once...they can find me again.

      Charity ran across the road, her thong shower sandals flapping against the heels of her feet. Having been roused from a late afternoon nap, wearing light blue shorts and a white tank-top, she only had time to grab the sandals before she had been rushed out of the house and pushed into the vehicle, the vehicle that now entombed the life-saving dead agent.

      She snaked between two large trees and pressed deeper into the woods. Stepping over fallen limbs and zigzagging around low-hanging branches, sharp twigs scratching her arms and legs, Charity felt the waistband of her shorts stretch to their limit, as the material bunched between her thighs. She reached behind her and snapped the offending branch before the garment was torn from her body. She spied the crisscrossing marks on her arms and sighed. This is going to be fun.

      For twenty minutes, Charity plodded through the woods until she came to a clearing. She waved away bothersome bugs and went to tiptoes to get a better view of the building she had seen from the road. Looks like a restaurant. She squinted at the sign, but could not make out the name. She lifted her right foot and slapped her calf and the mosquito enjoying its last meal. Clearing the air in front of her again, she entered the field, the only thing standing between her and the restaurant.

      Tall blades of grass tickling her bare legs, Charity thought back to the moment that had started her current journey. She shook her head. I should’ve never opened that laptop. Being the inquisitive type, however, she had been compelled to take a closer look at what had been displayed on her computer screen. If I had known my life would forever change, I’d have shut the thing, gone to the hotel pool, and forgotten all about it. Without breaking her stride, she picked a red-colored wildflower and brought the blossom to her nose. A few paces later, she half laughed. What am I saying? I wouldn’t have done any of that.

      Minutes later, Charity’s sandals slapped at the concrete parking lot behind the restaurant. In the open now, she tossed glances over each shoulder and quickened her pace. Her sandals making a ‘flop-flop-flop’ sound, she ditched the flower and bolted for the front door.

      Chapter 2

      Jameson

      6:05 p.m.

      Washington, D.C.

      "Slow down, Charity, and tell me what happened." FBI Director Phillip Jameson leaned forward in his chair. The woman on the other end of the phone was scared, talking fast in between deep breaths.

      He’s dead. They killed him. I barely got out of the house alive. He pushed me into a car and...

      Halfway through the retelling of her ordeal, Jameson had heard enough, but he let her continue. She was tiring, and her exhaustion would allow her nerves to settle.

      ...and, she expelled a gust of wind, that’s when I called you.

      Where are you now, Charity? He dragged a pad of paper closer and lifted a pen from its desk holder. Overland. He scribbled out the name. Listen to me and do exactly what I tell you. He paused. Tell me you’re listening, Charity.

      I’m here. I’m listening.

      "Stay where you are. Do not leave the restaurant. Don’t even go to the bathroom. Stay where you can be seen at all times. Do you understand me?"

      Yes.

      Good. I’m sending an agent to pick you up. You will be out of there and safe within the hour. Remember to stay visible, Charity.

      Okay...stay visible.

      You’re going to be all right. Hang in there. He set the phone’s handset back in the cradle, removed his black, rounded rectangular, thick-framed eyeglasses, and tossed them onto the desk. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Looks like my eight-hour workday just got a little longer.

      Jameson had always worked hard. At the age of ten, working as a newspaper carrier, he had made a decision to give more to his employer than he received. That work ethic had carried over to every job he ever worked, including his current position. He never expected more than his paycheck at the end of the week. As a result, his superiors had taken notice and had promoted him as soon as the opportunity had arisen. Two years ago, when James Conklin became the President of the United States, he had a short list of names—actually one name—for the position of FBI Director: Phillip Jameson.

      During his career with the FBI, Jameson had cultivated a no-nonsense attitude. He was a man who brought to bear rock-steady leadership and decision-making skills and always backed up his agents.

      Standing, Jameson reached into the pocket of his suit coat and withdrew his cell phone. At five-eleven and a buck ninety, the fifty-year-old was physically fit, maintaining a regular regimen of lifting weights and jogging. Running a hand over his baldhead, he glimpsed the upper-right corner of the mobile’s screen—6:09. It’s 5:09 in Texas. He typed a short text message, pressed the ‘send’ button, and put down the cell.

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