Read Online Always Look Twice by Geralyn Dawson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Geralyn Dawson
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They’d been a team of a dozen, nine men and three women, from different services, agencies, and departments in the government, each with unique talents, assigned to special duty beneath the direction of Colonel Greg Warren. Special covert duty. Warren had an office at the Pentagon and an official title, but they had little to do with his real job. Colonel Warren and his team functioned as freelance troubleshooters for everyone from the army to the CIA.
The Fixers worked all over the world representing Uncle Sam’s interests through espionage efforts aimed primarily at criminal organizations involved in the drug trade and arms smuggling. Upon occasion they coordinated with the Company and spooks like Matt if foreign governments figured into the equation. The unit had done good work, provided vital information, and survived some hairy scrapes to boot. He’d never forget that time in Colombia when Annabelle—
‘‘Annabelle.’’ Mark stiffened. If Frances Russo contacted the rest of the Fixers, then Annabelle would be there. She would come to Russo’s funeral. He would see her again.
His ex-wife.
Maybe she’d bring her new boyfriend with her.
‘‘Well, shit.’’ Mark drained the rest of his beer.
Philadelphia
Sitting in her car in the parking lot of Devlin’s Funeral Home on a blustery spring day, Annabelle flipped her cell phone shut with a trembling hand. The conversation had confirmed the fear that had been growing inside her since she’d begun making the calls for Frances Russo yesterday. Four members of the unit were dead, three of those recently. She couldn’t reach four others. What was going on?
Had somebody targeted the Fixers?
It was an incredible thought, but nothing else made sense. Dennis Nelson had died in a car wreck almost two months ago in Europe, so that one might well be unrelated. But in addition to Russo’s implausible death, for Terry Hart to die in a rock-climbing accident, and most unbelievable of all, for Melanie Anderson to commit suicide, all within a span of three weeks?
No. Uh-uh. Too much coincidence to be believable.
Add in the fact that she couldn’t reach Rocky Stanhope, Jordan Sundine, Rhonda Parsons, and Vince Holloway, and she knew without a doubt that the unit had trouble.
Annabelle was heartsick over the deaths. The years they’d worked together had created a real bond between teammates. She regretted that they had drifted apart in the years since the Fixers disbanded, but that fact didn’t negate her sense of loss. Or her concern for the surviving members of the unit.
Like Mark.
She suppressed a shudder. Had Frances Russo not informed her that she’d spoken to Mark before calling Annabelle, she would have been frantic. She might have divorced the man, but she had yet to figure a way to evict him from her heart.
Though she had made a real effort to do so. She’d stayed busy and tended to her social life. She’d dated. Annabelle wanted to fall in love.
Despite a real and concerted effort, she had yet to find a man to replace Callahan. When Paulo Giambelli spent two weeks in Hawaii for the stated purpose of winning her heart, she’d tried to accommodate him. Paulo had opined that she’d never move forward until she took another man into her bed, and of course, he’d volunteered for the job. But Annabelle’s core values hadn’t changed, and in spite of his charm, his wit, his drop-dead-gorgeous features, he couldn’t convince her to make that leap. When he announced his intention to woo her for a third week, she’d gently sent him home, telling him she simply wasn’t ready for serious romance. Since then they had settled into a habit of twice-weekly flirtatious calls, which she admittedly enjoyed.
Maybe if she’d jumped into romance with Paulo, the prospect of seeing Mark again wouldn’t bother her so much. But now she not only had to see him—she would have to talk to him. Maybe work with him again. They could not ignore these deaths and
The Fixers worked all over the world representing Uncle Sam’s interests through espionage efforts aimed primarily at criminal organizations involved in the drug trade and arms smuggling. Upon occasion they coordinated with the Company and spooks like Matt if foreign governments figured into the equation. The unit had done good work, provided vital information, and survived some hairy scrapes to boot. He’d never forget that time in Colombia when Annabelle—
‘‘Annabelle.’’ Mark stiffened. If Frances Russo contacted the rest of the Fixers, then Annabelle would be there. She would come to Russo’s funeral. He would see her again.
His ex-wife.
Maybe she’d bring her new boyfriend with her.
‘‘Well, shit.’’ Mark drained the rest of his beer.
Philadelphia
Sitting in her car in the parking lot of Devlin’s Funeral Home on a blustery spring day, Annabelle flipped her cell phone shut with a trembling hand. The conversation had confirmed the fear that had been growing inside her since she’d begun making the calls for Frances Russo yesterday. Four members of the unit were dead, three of those recently. She couldn’t reach four others. What was going on?
Had somebody targeted the Fixers?
It was an incredible thought, but nothing else made sense. Dennis Nelson had died in a car wreck almost two months ago in Europe, so that one might well be unrelated. But in addition to Russo’s implausible death, for Terry Hart to die in a rock-climbing accident, and most unbelievable of all, for Melanie Anderson to commit suicide, all within a span of three weeks?
No. Uh-uh. Too much coincidence to be believable.
Add in the fact that she couldn’t reach Rocky Stanhope, Jordan Sundine, Rhonda Parsons, and Vince Holloway, and she knew without a doubt that the unit had trouble.
Annabelle was heartsick over the deaths. The years they’d worked together had created a real bond between teammates. She regretted that they had drifted apart in the years since the Fixers disbanded, but that fact didn’t negate her sense of loss. Or her concern for the surviving members of the unit.
Like Mark.
She suppressed a shudder. Had Frances Russo not informed her that she’d spoken to Mark before calling Annabelle, she would have been frantic. She might have divorced the man, but she had yet to figure a way to evict him from her heart.
Though she had made a real effort to do so. She’d stayed busy and tended to her social life. She’d dated. Annabelle wanted to fall in love.
Despite a real and concerted effort, she had yet to find a man to replace Callahan. When Paulo Giambelli spent two weeks in Hawaii for the stated purpose of winning her heart, she’d tried to accommodate him. Paulo had opined that she’d never move forward until she took another man into her bed, and of course, he’d volunteered for the job. But Annabelle’s core values hadn’t changed, and in spite of his charm, his wit, his drop-dead-gorgeous features, he couldn’t convince her to make that leap. When he announced his intention to woo her for a third week, she’d gently sent him home, telling him she simply wasn’t ready for serious romance. Since then they had settled into a habit of twice-weekly flirtatious calls, which she admittedly enjoyed.
Maybe if she’d jumped into romance with Paulo, the prospect of seeing Mark again wouldn’t bother her so much. But now she not only had to see him—she would have to talk to him. Maybe work with him again. They could not ignore these deaths and
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