CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Whitney MacNair—Touched by scandal, shunned by her powerful political family. Does this garrulous golden girl have what it takes to help Montana Confidential through its darkest hour?

      Vincent Romeo—NSA agent with one mission—keep Whitney safe. Does this dark, brooding man of secrets hold the answer to her salvation?

      Dimitri Chilton—The leader of the Black Order is alone and on the run.

      Senator Ross Weston—He’s facing the biggest contest of his political career.

      Margery Weston—How far will she go to support her husband?

      Warren Burke—Weston’s campaign manager. How many dirty little secrets can one man hide?

      Alysia Two Crows—More than just a maid?

      Brian MacNair—Whitney’s big brother has always taken care of her.

      Daniel Austin—Will he have to choose between his family and Montana Confidential?

      Gerald MacNair Sr.—He has the power to make or break a campaign for the presidency. But would he help his only daughter…?

      I would like to thank my critique partner, Sherry A. Siwinski, for sharing her expertise on horses and ranch life with me.

      This book is for her horse, Silver, a cantankerous old character who lives with pain every day. And it is for all the brave and loyal animals who touch our lives. May they all live with peace and kindness.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Prologue

      “Jewel?” Whitney MacNair’s bay Appaloosa danced beneath her on the rocky path. A sure sign of trouble. “Your grandpa did say the rattlesnakes would be in hibernation now, didn’t he?”

      She glanced up the steep rock wall to the autumn golds and greens of aspen and lodgepole pine trees growing on the plateau above her. Sometimes a coyote would come out of the woods and follow along, just to check the new scents of horses and riders in his domain. The deceptive mix of light and shadow in the trees played tricks on her vision. Maybe something moved up there. And maybe she’d better keep her focus on the narrowing path.

      The twelve-year-old girl on the sorrel gelding ahead of her turned in her saddle and shoved her hat back on her honey-blond hair. “It’s too cold in October, Whit. Gramps said that if there are any snakes left, they won’t come out to heat themselves on the rocks until this afternoon.”

      Whitney tugged at the neckline of her frost-blue cashmere sweater. It was warm enough by her standards. She’d already shed the matching wool jacket and tied it to the back of her bulky western saddle. She’d endured three months in this godforsaken wilderness, and she still couldn’t get used to the rapid fluctuations in temperature.

      She didn’t really mind it so much today, though, she thought, letting a satisfied smile curve her lips. Sure, the nearest thing that passed for a town was a good fifty miles away in Livingston. And it was another hundred more beyond that to reach anything she’d classify as civilization. But her boss, Daniel Austin, had given her the sweetest compliment earlier today.

      Nice job, Whit, he’d said.

      It wasn’t so much the words, but the fact that he’d recognized her contribution—however small—to the smooth running of Montana Confidential, a covert branch of the federal Department of Public Safety. Under Daniel’s direction, they’d set up a command center, beneath the guise of a working ranch, to handle the threat of terrorists sneaking into the United States across the unpopulated Montana–Canadian border.

      The Black Order, as the terrorists called themselves, had attempted to destroy a research facility, sabotage a public water system, even kill the governor of Montana, trying to get a foothold of control in the U.S. But Montana Confidential and its diverse team of agents had turned them back each time.

      Whitney was no agent. She had the thoroughly unglamorous title of executive assistant. Glorified secretary was more like it. Cum laude graduate from the best schools in the East, sentenced to a job well beneath her talents and experience.

      But today, after nearly three months in the boondocks of Montana, far away from her family—states away from a proper department store—the isolation hadn’t mattered quite so much.

      Nice job.

      Her smile broadened. She’d been working day and night fielding calls from law enforcement agencies all over the state, reports of sightings of Dimitri Chilton, the leader of the Black Order terrorist group, who was still at large.

      It wasn’t the kind of work she’d trained for at Smith College. But Daniel had needed her to fill that role, and she hadn’t let him down. She’d been more than window dressing. More than a kid sister anyone needed to baby-sit. She’d rolled up her sleeves, sat her butt in the chair and kept the top-secret