Page 1 of Redeeming Meg

ONE

Platja Fonda, Spain

It wasn’tevery day you had to face all your demons at once. Today was Meg Carson’s day.

The lazy afternoon sun turned the sea into a carpet of diamonds, small boats bobbing in the clear blue waters. It was the off-season, and tourists were scarce, yet a smattering of local children ran among the waves. Their mothers gathered in groups on blankets, watching and gossiping along the rocky shoreline.

Nestled at the foot of the high cliffs, Meg still felt vulnerable, even with a wall of rock shielding her and the others from town. Shielding her, she hoped, from life.

Warm, humid air tickled her nose. Her skin gleamed with sweat. The towel under her was already soaked through. Rare for this late in the season, but the week had seen multiple days with temps above average. Seemed everywhere she went, she brought the unexpected and unusual.

The rocking of the boats eased her overtaxed mind into a lull. Here, she could forget everything. Be no one. Decide what was next.

A wave hit an outcropping of large stones to the north, white spray climbing high in the air before dropping once more into the hidden cove. She admired those rocks, taking the constant battering of the sea without crumbling. Impenetrable, unyielding. If only she could make her heart so solid and resistant.

Footsteps approached from behind her. Snapping out of the lull of the sea, her focus shifted. Even in the mineral-laden sand, she could hear how purposeful the steps were. Sense the person was on a mission, and that mission involved her. Instinct and finely honed skills made her slip a hand under the towel.

The cool metal of her Bodyguard 380 instantly mollified her. The scent of her sister’s signature floral perfume did, too.

A shadow fell over her, and Meg returned her hand to the lounge chair’s arm, pasting on a fake smile. “Kids napping?”

Tawny and Josh had invited Meg to accompany them and her niece and nephew on this vacation. Meg needed a vacation from her life, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Tawny, hair in a high ponytail and concern etched in her features, held out Meg’s cell. The screen showed a live call on mute. “Your boss.”

“I don’t have—”a boss anymore. Yet, a shiver of anticipation snaked through her. She knew exactly who was on the line, and while Tawny had no idea her older sister had been an elite covert operative for six years, there was a part of Meg who both hated and missed that life. “I’m retired. It’s a telemarketer or a wrong number. Hang up.”

Dangerous, that, but Meg had told him—told them all—never to bother her again. To go to hell and stay there. She was done. Period. End of story.

Tawny crouched next to the chair, her eyes wide with fear. “I already tried that. He’s called three times. He says if I don’t get you on the line, he’ll tell Josh about…” She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her voice to a whisper. “About what happened.” Those hazel eyes, so much like their mother’s, opened once more. “Meg, how does your boss know about that weekend?”

The best spy in the business, now CIA’s Director of Operations. He knew or could find out anything. Leverage, blackmail, manipulation. He was a master at them all.

Meg hated Conrad Flynn for that. Hated him for scaring her sister. “He’s bluffing, and besides, Josh would never hold it against you. He adores you, and you have a great life with him.”One I intend to see continues. “You should tell him yourself and clear the air. It was a meaningless flirtation before you were married.”

Tawny took Meg’s hand and force-wrapped her fingers around the phone. “Talk to this guy. Please. For me.” Her eyes added,and for you. Desperation clouded Tawny’s face. “You’re miserable, Meg, even in this paradise with people who love you. Maybe you should think about going back. Jessie would want that.”

Meg considered whipping the phone into the waves. Just hearing that name made her want to scream. The grief and guilt balled up inside her threatened to explode. Tawny believed Jessica Mendoza had been an employee of her security firm—a cover they’d used for their special division of spies.

Instead of losing control, Meg did what she always did these days—she bitch-slapped the scream down into the deepest crater inside her. Pasting on the fake smile again, she hugged her sister. “I’ll handle it. Go kiss your husband and tell him you love him. Everything will be alright. I promise.”

Tawny hugged her back, then trudged away. “I love you, Meggie,” she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying on the breeze.

Staring at the phone, Meg forced her erratic pulse to slow. It was a phone conversation. Not a commitment.

She unmuted the call and lifted the device to her ear. “If you ever threaten my sister again, I’ll shove your balls in a blender.”

“Good to hear your voice, too,” Conrad Flynn replied. “It’s been a while. Enjoying Spain? By the way, you’ll have to get in line for that honor.”

“Whatever it is you want, no.” She disconnected.

As expected, the phone rang almost immediately. She counted to ten, willing it to go to voicemail, then remembered the scared look on her sister’s face and jabbed the button. “What?”

“We’ve got a missing friend in Bucharest. The president has reactivated your division.”

Black Swan. A whopping four people, the elite of the elite in what had been dubbed Flynn’s Secret Army. Two men, two women, who could work in pairs or alone. Get in, get out, complete the mission without anyone ever knowing.

Only now, one was dead and the division was, too. “I quit, remember?” The MIA had to be someone important for the president to get involved. “Find another sucker to track down your MIA.”

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