Chapter One

      Her mission was clear: rescue the hostage.

      Gennie Fox wasn’t exactly sure how she’d accomplish the task but needed to act fast. According to her information, her backup was due to arrive in less than fifteen minutes, but she shouldn’t count on them. Her background info indicated that they couldn’t be trusted. She needed to rescue the asset before anybody else showed up. And the clock was ticking down.

      She made her approach, creeping through the forested hillside outside an isolated two-story mountain cabin with a cedar deck jutting from the south end. Late afternoon sunlight glistened on patches of spring snow that had mostly melted and left the ground muddy. With her back pressed against the rough trunk of a Ponderosa pine, she observed. Two armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the property. She suspected there were others inside.

      If she’d had access to a heat-sensing scanner, she would have known whether the hostage was being held upstairs or on the lower level. The scanner wasn’t her only lack. She had no binoculars, no auditory surveillance devices and her assault gear left much to be desired. The eight-inch double-edged blade in a sheath attached to her belt was good for silent combat, but the handgun she’d been given was clumsy and untrustworthy. Gennie preferred a fifteen-round Beretta similar to the weapon she’d carried on patrol in Afghanistan.

      Her unpreparedness extended to her clothing. She’d expected to be meeting for brunch at a trendy spot in the Highlands area of Denver and had dressed in a black leather jacket, olive green silk blouse, black slacks and lace-up sandals with two-inch heels. For this one-woman assault, she should have been wearing head-to-toe camo and steel-toed Dr. Martens.

      When one of the guards peered in her direction, her adrenaline spiked. She ducked behind the tree, hoping that her black outfit would blend into the shadows. Her blond hair was covered by a green patterned scarf, and she’d turned up her collar to hide her face. Only her blue eyes stood out. She squinted and watched as the guard turned his head and moved away.

      For the moment, she was safe. But she couldn’t just stand here, waiting to be caught. She’d signed on to play this game, and she intended to win.

      Holding the gun in her left hand, she drew her knife with the right. Mentally, she mapped her route to the house. Guards had been coming and going on the deck, which meant the sliding glass doors probably weren’t locked. But the approach to that entrance offered little cover, and she wanted to stay hidden as long as possible. Bent over, she dashed from the forested area toward a clump of trees nearer to the front door.

      Halfway, her sandals skidded on the mud, and she sprawled. Her quick reflexes compensated for her clumsiness. She sprang into a crouch, froze like a statue and checked to make sure the guards hadn’t seen her. Then she ran. Her left ankle stiffened. She was injured. No time to worry about it now.

      At the house she peeked through a window beside the front door, didn’t see a guard. The door was locked, which was what she’d expected. She had a lock pick attached to her key chain and knew how to use it. In mere seconds, the doorknob twisted easily in her hand.

      Inside the entryway she scoped out the spacious room with a natural stone fireplace at one end, a hall leading in the direction of the deck on the other and a staircase directly across from the entry. A guard appeared in the doorway from the hall. He looked surprised to see her, and she took advantage. Before he could raise his weapon, she pounced and slashed her blade across his throat. He fell. Take his rifle? She decided against it. Her handgun was better for fighting in close quarters.

      Killing the guard had been necessary. He’d been in the way, and she needed to succeed in this mission. Upstairs or down? Trusting her instincts, she rushed to the staircase and ascended to the second floor where she expected to find bedrooms. The upstairs would be easier to defend than what she assumed was a more open floorplan on the lower level.

      Directly across from the landing, she confronted a closed door. Was the hostage being held in that room? The other doors on both sides of the long corridor stood open with the exception of the door at the very end.

      At the closed door, she pressed her ear against the wood and listened. From inside, she heard a drawer being closed, then a shuffling noise and the thud of heavy boots walking across the floor. Coming closer to her? She jumped back as the door swung open. A guy in a guard uniform raised his arm at right angles to his body and fired at her. He missed. Her aim was more accurate. Two direct hits. The center of his chest turned bright red. He crumpled to the floor.

      The gunshots had alerted the other guards. From downstairs, she heard their shouts. Her best guess for the location of the hostage was the closed door at the end of the hall. As she sprinted toward it, a red-haired maid in a pink smock stepped through one of the open doors, holding a stack of folded linens. She gave a shriek and threw up her hands. No weapon. Not a threat. Gennie pushed her back and told her to take cover.

      At the closed door, she tried the handle. Locked! No time for finesse, she crashed through, using her shoulder as a battering ram. Tomorrow, she’d have a bruise, but the injury was worth it if she completed her mission. She pushed the door closed behind her. After slipping her knife into the sheath, she held her gun with both hands for stability as she scanned the large room—a well-equipped home gym with a wall of windows and a wide balcony.

      A tall lean man wearing knee-length shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt jogged on a treadmill, moving in time to music that must have been playing on his wireless headphones. His back was toward her. When he turned his head, she recognized his profile.

      Without lowering her handgun, she approached. “Noah Sheridan.”

      With a glance in her direction, he stepped off the treadmill, removed his headphones and rubbed his hand across his close-cropped