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Warning Shot
Jenna Kernan
Warning Shot His secret could cost her life… Sent to thwart an unknown threat, Rylee Hockings clashes with local county sheriff Axel Trace who doesn’t want the federal agent treading on his turf. But as he learns to accept her help, he realises he'll have to reveal a secret that could jeopardise her case—and cost them their lives.
When an agent teams up with a local sheriff,
she doesn’t realize his secret could endanger their lives...
With Homeland Security on high alert, Rylee Hockings heads into the field to thwart a foreign threat. But local county sheriff Axel Trace doesn’t want the newbie federal agent treading on his turf. As he learns to accept her help, the stakes rise as he realizes he’ll have to reveal a secret that could jeopardize her case—and cost them their lives.
JENNA KERNAN has penned over two dozen novels and received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley in New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan (https://twitter.com/jennakernan), on Facebook or at jennakernan.com (http://www.jennakernan.com)
Also by Jenna Kernan (#u33d6a793-5388-5215-9aa5-4545932e00cf)
Defensive Action
Adirondack Attack
Surrogate Escape
Tribal Blood
Undercover Scout
Black Rock Guardian
Turquoise Guardian
Eagle Warrior Firewolf
The Warrior’s Way
Shadow Wolf
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Warning Shot
Jenna Kernan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09450-4
WARNING SHOT
© 2019 Jeannette H. Monaco
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u33d6a793-5388-5215-9aa5-4545932e00cf)
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For Jim, always.
Contents
Cover (#ubc51ecc6-8adb-51e0-befd-2e284c85eeb9)
Back Cover Text (#u2a9ba072-a96e-52e3-bbc9-4166c68e9ece)
About the Author (#u91f31739-09cc-5612-842c-35be39e27765)
Booklist (#u61dd7917-3af9-5f1c-a88c-f62708c9d7b0)
Title Page (#u89c9622d-43aa-5dde-a69e-6e67fd050462)
Copyright (#uef34a3b5-39c6-59a4-b98f-46f1aef904f8)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u1a08a78f-e47f-5f65-a6c0-0a971b3a8697)
Chapter One (#u78ca9f6c-288c-507b-80b4-9f66334b6f85)
Chapter Two (#u53b792fc-87a0-5440-ae3a-3fecc677ebcc)
Chapter Three (#u301bc2ca-94e0-57c1-95c7-50e7dafac358)
Chapter Four (#ub97b4817-3276-5bf2-8578-43c0f2cf8729)
Chapter Five (#u505836c3-734f-5dae-a748-8364e74b3072)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u33d6a793-5388-5215-9aa5-4545932e00cf)
Homeland Security Agent Rylee Hockings paused on the way into the sheriff’s office at the foul language booming from the side of the building. The deep baritone voice continued in a colorful string of obscenities that made her think the speaker had been in some branch of the armed services.
A military brat herself, she had heard her fair share of cussing during her formative years while being dragged from one base to another, Kyoto to Hawaii to Germany and back to Hawaii. The youngest of six, she had the distinction of being the only one of her family not to join the US Marines. Some of the military upbringing had worn off on her because she still believed that one was judged on performance. It was one of many reasons she planned to kill this assignment and show her supervisor she had what it took to be a field operative.
It was just past noon on Labor Day. Because of the federal holiday, she had not expected to find the sheriff in his office, but stopped as a courtesy. The second day of September and sunny, but the sunshine did not warm this frozen block of a county in upstate New York. Here it already felt like November. The leaves were pretty. Already at peak leaf-peeping season.
She rounded the building and found a tall man with strands of honey-blond hair falling over his flushed face as he jammed a coat hanger in the slot between the weather stripping and the driver’s side window of the vehicle before him.
The vehicle was a white SUV and on the side panel in gold paint was the county seal and the word Sheriff.
The man had his back to her and he had not heard her approach due to the swearing and stomping of his feet on the frozen ground. His breath showed in the blast of cold air. The collar of his jacket was turned up against the chill. His distraction gave her a moment to admire an unobstructed view of one of the nicest looking butts she had seen in some time. His uniform slacks were just tight enough and his posterior just muscular enough to keep her interest for a little too long. He wore a brown nylon jacket, heavily padded and flapping at his sides as he threw the coat hanger to the ground.
“Unsat,” she said, using the US Marine jargon for unsatisfactory.
He whirled and met her gaze by pinning her with eyes so blue they should have belonged to a husky. Her smile dropped with her stomach. Straight nose, square chin and a sensual mouth, the guy was the complete package, and then he opened his mouth.
“Sneaking up on a sheriff is a bad idea.”
“As bad as locking your keys inside?” She squinted her eyes and dragged her sunglasses down her nose. “I could have had an entire unit with me, and you wouldn’t have heard.”
He stooped to retrieve his twisted coat hanger, snatching it from the ground with long elegant fingers.
“FUBAR,” she said.
“You in the Corps?” he asked, referring to the US Marine Corps.
“My father, two brothers and a sister.” She motioned to the sheriff’s vehicle. “No spare?”
“Lost them,” he admitted.
“Why not use a Slim Jim?”
He scowled and thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s in the back.”
She wished she’d checked into the background of the sheriff of Onutake County before this meeting, but time had been limited. Knowing what he looked like would have been helpful right about now. For all she knew, this guy was a car thief.
She made a note to do some background checking as soon as she found a moment.
“You Sheriff Trace?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Rylee Hockings, Department of Homeland Security.” She retrieved her business card case from her blazer and offered him a card, leaning forward instead of stepping closer. There was something other than his vocabulary that urged her to keep her distance. She listened to that voice instead of the one that wondered if he were single. But her traitorous eyes dropped to his bare hands and the left one, which held no wedding band.
He nodded, not looking at her card.
“Didn’t expect to find you on the job today, Sheriff.”
“More calls on weekends and holidays. Just the way of the world.”
He’d have trouble responding without his car, she thought.
“What can I do you for?”
