Page 4 of Torn in Half

Pacing back and forth in the war-room, Ian impatiently waited for the international call to Scotland to go through. They needed to get to the airport soon, but the teams were still loading up all the equipment and weapons while CC was with the jet doing his pre-flight checklist. Everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing—it was a tremendous help to have employees who worked together like a well-oiled machine. Ian trusted them to do their jobs and not to leave anything to chance.

“Come on, come on,” he murmured as he pivoted to head back in the other direction. “Pick up the fucking—”

“Hello, Tampa!” The friendly American voice came over the room’s speakers so Ian, Brody, Nathan, and Boomer could all hear it. Meanwhile, its owner’s face appeared on a screen on the wall. It didn’t surprise Ian that the man was wide awake and at his computer console at 5:45 a.m. BST—British Summer Time. “It’s the middle of the night over there. What can I do you for?”

“Jones, I need Mic on the line on the double,” Ian barked. There was no time for pleasantries or explanations, nor were they necessary.

“On it.” Samuel Jones disappeared from the screen as he ran to gather up the Steel Corps team and its leader, Bea “Mic” Michaels, one of the most kickass women Ian had ever met in his life. The original TS Alpha Team went way back with Mic, since they’d all been in Iraq together—the men on SEAL Team Four and Mic with Army Intelligence. After seeing her in action, interrogating a terrorist while using forms of torture, Ian had never wanted to be on the other side of her in battle. However, she’d softened some since becoming a mother to an adorable baby girl.

Less than two minutes later, the rest of the Steel Corps team rushed in behind Jones, all having obviously been roused from their beds—Chris Jordon, Matthew “Rook” Riley, Ed Pierce, Jerimiah Flynn, Mary “Red” Bickle, and finally, Mic. Jones held out his chair for her to take, and her concerned face filled most of the screen. “What’s wrong, Sawyer?”

“I know you’re all packing to return to the States, but I need boots on the ground in the Philippines, ASAP. My parents are on one of their charity trips, and from the sound of it, Mom and another woman were abducted not far from the clinic they were working in.”

“Shit. Details?” That was Mic—short and to the point.

“Very few, which is why I need your help. A lot of shit can happen in the eighteen or so hours it’s going to take us to get there.” Wasn’t that the truth? Right now, Ian would give anything to have teleportation be a real thing. Since it wasn’t, he’d have to rely on people who could get to the Philippines much faster than him and his operatives.

She glanced over her shoulder at her team, and without hesitation, every single one of them volunteered to go. Ian had expected nothing less, and he knew Mic had too.

Turning back, she said, “Chris, Rook, Pierce, Red, and Flynn can be wheels up in thirty. Jones and I can gather intel from here. Call us from the jet and give us what you’ve got.” She paused. “I wish I could go and be there for you too.”

Ian’s expression softened. “I know you do. Give PJ a kiss for me. Tell her she’ll have a new cousin soon.”

“Holy shit! I forgot Angie’s due in a few days.”

“Yup. Life loves to throw fucking curveballs, doesn’t it?” Without waiting for a response, he added, “Jones, I’ll call you from the jet. In the meantime, connect with Cookie over whatever secure link you two use, so we can have a three-way conversation later.” Nathan Cook was a former NSA computer hacker Trident had hired a while back. It had been a great deal for the company since it gave them access to the National Security Agency’s database. “Mic . . . thanks. I owe you.”

“Bullshit.” She pressed a button, and the screen went dark.

Dev stuck his head into the room. “We’re ready.”

As Brody gathered up the two laptops and their accessories that he was bringing with him to work on, Ian and Boomer strode out of the room. They followed Devon into the conference room where the women had gathered. After kissing Jenn on the forehead, and promising he’d bring the woman she considered to be her grandmother home, safe and sound, he wrapped his arms around Angie as far as he could with her baby belly between them. He lowered his mouth to hers. When he ended the kiss, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, Angel. You’re killing me here.”

Swallowing hard, she shook her head and wiped the wetness from her face. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to cry, but these damn hormones—”

“Shh. I’ll be back in time. Somehow, I’ll make it.”

Whether she believed him or not, she nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

He kissed her one more time, as Boomer and Devon did the same to their wives, then the three men hightailed it out to the parking lot and loaded into the idling vehicles filled with their teammates and equipment. As the caravan headed for the compound’s gate, Ian’s gaze remained on Angie, where she stood just outside the door to the offices with Kristen, Jenn, and Kat, until she was out of sight. Sending up a silent prayer, he asked God, and any other powers that might exist, to get him home in time, with his parents and the teams in tow, in time to see Little Bit enter the world, kicking and screaming.

Chapter Four

After making certain JD was all set in his baby swing, Kristen sat at her computer desk in the studio that housed her and Angie’s workspaces. It’d been her sister-in-law’s idea to have the structure built on the compound’s property, so they had a place where they could both be comfortable to work and hang out together, instead of in either one’s apartment. The large, 800-square-foot, well-lit room had been broken up into five areas. In addition to Kristen’s desk, where she could write and edit her books, there was another section where Angie could explore her various artistic talents, a small kitchen, and a sitting area. Finally, there was a play area for JD, the soon-to-arrive Little Bit, and any visiting little ones. They’d also installed a full bath in case any kids ever got too messy.

It was a little after 10:00 a.m., still hours before the TS jet would land in the Philippines, so the women and their friends were trying to get some work done—as hard as it was—to take their minds off Marie. Angie was designing a new romance novel cover for Kristen’s publisher, Red Rose Books. Marco’s wife, Harper, a lawyer, was curled up on the couch, preparing a court brief, while her toddler, Mara, played with some colorful blocks nearby. Kat was outside with fellow K9 trainer Tori Frejya, who was engaged to Mitch Sawyer and his ménage partner Tyler Ellis. They were putting Bravo and Delta through tactical obedience exercises with their K9 handlers, operatives from the new Personal Protection Division at Trident. Fancy should be arriving soon—she’d stayed at the bakery through the morning rush. And, last but not least, Shelby Christiansen was sitting in a recliner, beta reading for an indie author Kristen had introduced her to. She’d been a reader for Kristen for several years now, even before they’d ever met in person. While Shelby was there supporting her friends, the petite woman’s two adopted sons, Franco and Victor, were with her husband, Parker, a construction company owner, touring his work sites for a few hours and probably loving every minute.

The only other person not there, besides Logan’s fiancée, Dakota Swift, who knew what was going on and they trusted not to leak the information anywhere, was Kristen’s cousin Will Anders. The only reason he wasn’t there was because the museum where he worked had received a new exhibit that morning, and he had to catalog over two hundred artifacts and compare the list to the manifest. It was an all-day job, but he was checking in every hour or so.

After going through her latest emails, Kristen signed into Facebook to check her notifications and private messages. She started with the latter and had responded to several of them before she got to the one from a reader named Rhonda who was a big fan and very active in the Kristen Anders’ Amazing Angels reader group.

Hi Kristen! Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I came across a book by a new “author,” and I hate to say it, but it looks like she plagiarized your Hearts Ablaze. You might want to take a look at it. The names have been changed but almost everything else is word for word! She has three other books out, all rapidly released. I checked the sample chapters of the other two. One sounds really familiar, and I’m trying to remember which author might have written it. The other isn’t one of yours either. Sorry!

“Shit,” she murmured, clicking on the link that’d been provided. Of course, it would be one of her indie books, instead of the others she had with her traditional publisher. Red Rose Books had a large legal department that handled stuff like this, but if Hearts Ablaze had, indeed, been plagiarized, Kristen would need to retain her own lawyer.

Once she was on the book’s purchase page, she read the blurb. It wasn’t exactly the same as the one Kristen had written for Hearts Ablaze, but it was close enough. Her stomach was already tied up in knots thinking about Marie and what Chuck and their sons must be going through, and this wasn’t helping. Bringing up the sample, and praying Rhonda had been wrong, Kristen started to read.

“Son of a freakin’ witch!” She’d gotten creative in her cursing since JD had been born and Mara had started repeating everything she heard. Ian was still in trouble with Harper because her daughter was very fond of the word “twatwaffle.” Thankfully, it sounded more like “what-waffle” coming from the little girl’s mouth.

---