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Hidden Truth
Hidden Truth
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Hidden Truth

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Hidden Truth
Danica Winters

Neither knows the other is undercover. Rancher Trevor Martin has as many dangerous secrets as his housekeeper, Sabrina Parker. She's undercover FBI, investigating whether Trevor is a gunrunning terrorist. She doesn't know he's CIA. Trust is uncertain, but attraction is undeniable…

Wary of each other’s secrets

Neither knows the other is undercover.

Rancher Trevor Martin has as many dangerous secrets as his housekeeper, Sabrina Parker. She’s undercover FBI, investigating whether Trevor is a gunrunning terrorist. She doesn’t know he’s CIA. But living under the same roof and in close proximity becomes a liability. Trust is uncertain, but attraction is undeniable. When they become embroiled in a series of grisly murders, will their secrets cost them their lives in the end?

DANICA WINTERS is a multiple award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts—quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at danicawinters.net (http://danicawinters.net)

Also by Danica Winters (#u9f345e87-b006-5080-8800-4945bafafc53)

Ms Calculation

Mr Serious

Mr Taken

Smoke and Ashes

Dust Up with the Detective

Wild Montana

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Hidden Truth

Danica Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ISBN: 978-1-474-09463-4

HIDDEN TRUTH

© 2019 Danica Winters

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.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Note to Readers (#u9f345e87-b006-5080-8800-4945bafafc53)

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

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To Mac, thank you for teaching me the meaning

of true love.

Acknowledgements

This series wouldn’t have been possible without a great

team of people, including my #1k1hr friends, Jill

Marsal and the editors at Mills & Boon—thank you for

all your hard work.

Also, thank you to my readers. You keep me writing.

Contents

Cover (#ua816ecb8-4c92-5441-8a5c-efe202cd4c45)

Back Cover Text (#ud8da7b0c-1f4f-5ee6-8896-eea3c4dd3d89)

About the Author (#uef43fdf9-4567-5deb-8056-c59972229d4c)

Booklist (#u2d96720f-57b3-529f-8257-c1515fcf6455)

Title Page (#u1ed0e3a6-ecd6-58b2-ab50-bbcaa9babf38)

Copyright (#u61b451b6-ab6e-5f33-b5b2-6ed88d94e604)

Note to Readers

Acknowledgements (#ue429517c-b4b1-5c77-bc98-c507de5e3f3b)

Dedication (#u6a8cf1b5-a4a9-5fb5-8340-a45e55859397)

Prologue (#u7f789378-c736-589b-a1b3-7c0bf7c360f7)

Chapter One (#ue1b3dfee-6fd7-5695-86d4-f22fe0bc599f)

Chapter Two (#u00b4c138-516e-58d5-a74c-372071ae15f4)

Chapter Three (#u638895d0-5a43-5ea8-ac1b-116b93c68196)

Chapter Four (#ube1d2c50-a75a-53a3-9483-584ffdbec049)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#u9f345e87-b006-5080-8800-4945bafafc53)

She clicked open the tabs of the gun case, exposing the M24 sniper rifle. It was a thing of beauty. Even without firing a single round from this particular gun, Trish Martin could recall the precise feel of pulling the trigger, smelling the spent powder and watching as her enemies fell to their knees.

There was no greater feeling in the world than a justified kill. The men standing around her, those dealing in death, would be easy to strip from this earth.

She ran her fingers down the synthetic stock, taking in the slight imperfections on the newly manufactured gun. This one would be for a different kind of kill, a long-term tactical assault, rather than a one-and-done straight to the head.

Some people were only too happy to judge her and her family for the work they did, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was out there protecting the ones who didn’t appreciate it right alongside the ones who did. She was a hunter, a predator, who fought for her territory and for life as she knew it.

The shroud of darkness wormed its way around her as she waited for the Bozkurtlar, or what some people called the Gray Wolves. To call them a Turkish crime syndicate was an understatement. No, they were so much more.

They were the reason she and her family were here in Adana, the reason she couldn’t sleep at night, and the reason there were so many unmarked graves scattered around the Turkish hillsides. Their name suited them. No matter where in the world they were, death and mayhem followed.

That would all end soon.

She heard the sound of footsteps on the concrete floor and the clink of the metal door closing behind the group. From the sound, there had to be at least ten men. If anything went wrong…

She looked around her. They had made a mistake in agreeing to meet them in this shell of a warehouse. There weren’t nearly enough hiding places or corners where she could find cover if she needed to. And there wasn’t anywhere for her brothers to hide within the building. Without a doubt, the group’s intention had been to isolate her and to strip her of any way to double-cross them.

“Ms. Stone,” a man with a thick Turkish accent said from behind her. “I hope you aren’t planning on brandishing that weapon. We’re here to buy new, not used.”

She stood up to face Fenrisulfr Bayural. He was nearly a foot shorter than her, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in his stance. When he stared at her, his golden-hued eyes took on the darkness that surrounded them, making her instinctively twitch for the gun at her side.

She stared down at him, forcing herself to act far more confident and self-assured than she felt in his presence. He couldn’t sense weakness in her. If he did, he and the bodyguards around him would certainly pounce. When it came to running guns, buyers tended to get skittish.

Two years ago, in Egypt, one of her team’s sting operations had ended with a shipment of American weapons falling into the wrong hands—and the men on her team being murdered. They were part of the reason she had ended up here—men, especially those with a Napoleon complex, tended to be more than happy to play nice with a hot brunette. But she’d be crazy to think her looks would keep this from becoming a firefight.

“We sell nothing but the best. You’d be a fool to think anything less,” she said.

“Good. But will you also be providing more advanced weaponry or just the ARs?”

He wanted the launchers. Of course he did. But rocket launchers weren’t something that they readily had on hand. Yet what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. For now, she just had to play along and make it out of this room alive.

“How many did you want?”

“Four thousand RPGs and ten thousand ARs. I need my men to have adequate coverage when they attack Ankara.”

As he spoke the name of the city, she felt the warmth of the mic strategically stitched into her jacket. They had their location and an estimated number of enemy combatants—admittedly, a number far greater than they had anticipated. But perhaps it was Bayural’s plan to inflate the numbers. In the event any of their dealings leaked, he would appear far more powerful than he and his group really were.

“What do you have available for us?” Bayural crossed his arms over his chest, covering his vital bits as he prepared to negotiate his price.

No matter how he tried to protect himself, once her brothers bore down there would be no protection great enough. His life would be theirs for the taking.

“The Type 91 Kai MANPAD rocket launcher will do everything from annihilating a door to wiping almost an entire city block clean with its shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles. They’re easy to carry, cheap and fast to reload. Everything you want.” She chuckled slightly as she realized how much she sounded like a used car salesman instead of a trained killer. Her mother would have been so proud.

Bayural squatted down and picked up the sniper rifle. He lifted it up as he stood and shifted the gun in his hands as though he was weighing it. “Hand me a round,” he said, turning toward the guard to his right.

The man pulled a round from his pocket. Bayural jacked the round into the chamber, smiling at the metallic click and slide sound the gun made.

No. He couldn’t be allowed to actually shoot the rifle. It would be too dangerous. They were here to keep the general public from falling into harm’s way, not to place them into greater danger. “The gun is solid. The shipment will be solid. Our team, Black Dragon, will get them to you by tomorrow.” She tried to sound nonchalant as she slipped in their fake name, the code word. Her team would be here any second to strike these bastards down.

Finally, they could cut off the wolf’s head.

“Tomorrow? I want them within the hour.” He lifted the rifle, pointing it directly at her center mass as he peered down the scope. “You can do that, can’t you?”

She glanced toward the far wall, hoping like hell that she would see the laser signal letting her know her brothers were in place, but there was nothing.