Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1)
Read Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Online
Authors: Nicole Edwards
| Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) |
| Nicole Edwards |
Trace Kogan will go to any length to protect those who need protecting. That is the business he is in; the business his father, Casper Kogan, started with Bryce Trexler more than thirty-five years ago. Trace spends day and night eliminating threats to clients, so when the danger hits too close to home, he won’t let anything come between him and the woman who desperately needs his help.
His fear… the physical reaction he has to Marissa may pose a bigger danger than the ghost that they find themselves up against.
Marissa Trexler has spent the last twelve months of her life in hiding, tucked away in one safe house after another for her own protection. The threat to her is real even if the reason is still unknown. Strangely, whoever is after her seems to find her no matter where she goes, leading her family to believe it’s an inside job.
So when the decision is made that Trace will provide personal protection, she can’t say no, even if being close to him adds another level of danger… and this one is to her heart.
''[Nicole Edwards] writes characters that are so lovable, complex, and sexy that you feel like you'll just go up in flames when they finally get together.'' --Battery Operated Book Blog, praise for the author
Nicole Edwards
lives in Texas with her husband, three amazing kids, and four beloved dogs. Writing is her passion, something she's done since she was a teenager. If she isn't writing or chasing the dogs around, she's usually reading.
Wait for Morning
Also by Nicole
Edwards
The Alluring Indulgence Series
Kaleb
Zane
Travis
Holidays with the
Walker Brothers
Ethan
Braydon
Sawyer
Brendon
The Club Destiny Series
Conviction
Temptation
Addicted
Seduction
Infatuation
Captivated
Devotion
Perception
Entrusted
The Dead Heat Ranch Series
Boots Optional
Betting on Grace
Overnight Love
The Devil’s Bend Series
Chasing Dreams
Vanishing Dreams
Sniper 1 Security
Wait for Morning
Standalone Novels
A Million Tiny
Pieces
Writing as Timberlyn Scott
Unhinged
Unraveling
Chaos
Wait for Morning
A
Sniper 1 Security Novel
Book
One
Nicole
Edwards
SL Independent Publishing, LLC
PO Box 806
Hutto, Texas 78634
www.slipublishing.com
Copyright
© Nicole Edwards, 2015
All rights reserved
.
This
is a self-published title.
Without
limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of
both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Wait
for Morning – A Sniper 1 Security novel
is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents
either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Image: ©
Suppakij Sengsaman | 123rf.com;
©
Unclenikola
|
Dreamstime.com
Cover Design: ©
Nicole Edwards Limited
Editing:
Blue
Otter Editing
ISBN (ebook):
978-1-939786-41-8
ISBN (print): 978-1-939786-42-5
As
with a lot of first books within a series, there is a lot of ground work to lay
out. Below is an outline of the families within this series.
THE
KOGANS
Parents:
Casper and Elizabeth
Children:
Conner (33), Hunter (31), Trace (28), Courtney (26)
Grandchildren:
Shelby (Conner’s daughter)
THE
TREXLERS
Parents:
Bryce and Emily
Children:
Ryan/RT (33), Colby (31), Clay (28), Marissa (26), Austin (24)
BRYCE’S YOUNGER BROTHER’S FAMILY:
Parents:
TJ (Bryce’s younger brother) and Stephanie
Children:
Tanner (25), Kira (24), Evan (23), Dominic (22)
One
year ago
Front page of the
Dallas Morning News
February 10
By Douglas Forthnet – staff writer
Seven
people arrested, all linked to a string of popular downtown Dallas nightclubs
and topless bars. Authorities state that these seven people are charged with a
variety of crimes including money laundering, racketeering, distribution of
narcotics, and sale of unauthorized firearms. Based on information recently
obtained from a popular Dallas-area political blogger, the U.S. Attorney’s
office has announced that more charges are underway.
The
Adorite family, including Samuel Adorite, the patriarch of the family who
rocketed to the top of Dallas’s wealthiest entrepreneurs in the last two decades,
appears to be at the core of the recently uncovered use of the family-owned
businesses to launder nearly one hundred million dollars, as well as the
unlawful distribution and sale of narcotics and firearms.
Although
the Adorites have been indicted on multiple charges in the past, the family has
never been found guilty of a single charge. However, court documents indicate
there is an eighth suspect, unrelated to the Adorites and unnamed at this time.
Connecticut
February
Thump-scrape-thump
Marissa Trexler came awake slowly, trying
to fight the groggy feeling as she forced her eyes open. A quick glance at t
he blurry red digits on the alarm clock told her it
was just after midnight. The dim light from the lamp on her bedside table,
along with the Kindle resting on her chest, said she’d fallen asleep reading
again.
She really needed to stop doing that. More
than likely, the suspense novel she’d been engrossed in before she finally
dozed off was making her paranoid. Stephen King had a way of doing that to a
person.
Sliding the e-reader to the pillow beside
her, Marissa scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and glanced over at
the bedroom door. Shut and locked. Exactly the way she’d left it. No boogeyman
looming over her, ready to do whatever it was that boogeymen did.
She lay there, momentarily listening for
the sound that had awoken her. Nothing.
Yep, just as she’d thought. Paranoid.
Thanks a lot, Mr. King.
Maybe it really
was time to switch to some lighter reading at night. Perhaps her best friend, Courtney,
was right, Marissa should try romance on for size.
Just when she reached for
the lamp to shroud the room in darkness so she could attempt to get back to the
blessed dreamless state she’d been in, Marissa stopped, her hand hovering inches
from the lamp base.
Thump-scrape
Okay, maybe paranoid wasn’t the right word
because she
clearly
hadn’t imagined the
sound
that
time.
Glancing toward her bedroom door once
more, Marissa tried to make sense of the noise, but she couldn’t. It
sounded
almost as though someone was dragging
something across the floor and then carelessly dropping it. Over and over
again.
There was no way that could possibly be
it, though.
Right?
Maybe it was the screen door. Yes, that
made perfect sense. A much more likely culprit. The damn thing was always
coming unlatched, a reoccurring problem with the blistering cold winds slamming
brutally against her small rental—aka
safe
house—especially in the dead of winter.
Not for the first time, Marissa wished she
was back in Texas. Back where the temperatures weren’t freeze-your-nipples-off
cold.
Figuring the screen door wouldn’t fix
itself, Marissa forced her legs over the edge of the bed and slid her feet into
her cable-knit boot slippers.
Thump-scrape-thump
A frisson of fear sliced through her at
the sound, making her toes curl against the faux fur encasing her feet and
causing her heart to slam into her ribs. The screen door was never that
consistent.
Swallowing past the lump of
ice-cold
terror lodged in her suddenly dry
throat, Marissa managed to get to her feet. After grabbing her
heavy
robe from the chair beside the bed, she
slowly slipped out of her bedroom, moving down the short, narrow hallway toward
the front door as she pulled her robe over trembling arms. Forgoing the lights
on her way, she kept her ears tuned to the sound.
Thump-scrape-thump
This time Marissa stopped midstride,
standing a mere foot from the doorway that led to the living room as she tried
to pinpoint the direction of the noise. It didn’t sound like it was coming from
the front of the house, which meant … the screen door wasn’t the guilty party.
Thump-tha-thump
Thump-tha-thump
Swallowing hard, Marissa realized that new
thumping sound was her heart—threatening to beat right out of her chest.
That realization didn’t do a damn thing to
help the oncoming panic attack.
Thump-scrape-thump
Shit.
Not
her heart
.
Oh,
God!
Marissa listened for a moment, noticing
the house was now void of all noise except for the soft rumble of heat through
the air vents and the drumbeat coming from her chest. Was the sound coming from
behind her? She tried to force her feet to move, but the overwhelming fear kept
her rooted in place.
Before the direction to run could make it
from her brain to her feet, a hard, firm hand came over her mouth, yanking her
back against an equally hard,
firm
body.
The cobwebs of sleep still saturated her
gray matter, making it difficult to register the need to scream, but instinct
had her instantly trying to wiggle away.
No!
Not again!
A muffled sound escaped her—anything more
was hindered by the large palm crushed over her mouth—but it wasn’t nearly loud
enough to attract help. Or maybe that was the terror lodged in her throat
keeping the sound at bay. Either way, she found herself desperately trying to
suck in
air
, stumbling as the massive
body behind her pulled her away from the living room, forcing her to shift her
feet or fall to the floor.
And yes, she suddenly wondered whether the
latter wasn’t a bad idea. Getting away should’ve been her top priority, and
Marissa was pretty sure it would’ve been if she could think clearly.
“Not a word,” the
deep
voice whispered, warm breath brushing against her neck.
Well, that confirmed the answer to the
first question that had popped into her head:
man or woman?
Definitely a man.
Low
,
gruff, familiar, the voice was an oddly soothing rumble against her ear. She
recognized the timbre, the cadence, even the
inflection,
but thanks to the all-consuming dread
roiling
in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t place it. When she tried to turn, to
see who he was, he
simply
held her flush
to his body, continuing to ease them closer to the back door via the darkened
kitchen.
“Stay calm. We’ve gotta get outta here.”
His voice was calm, not at all threatening,
and the strong arms surrounding her weren’t gripping her painfully, but Marissa
still questioned:
friend or foe?
She
didn’t know the right answer, probably because she was still paralyzed with
fear.
While her common sense tried to come fully
online, the intruder continued to lead her away from the front of the house,
and for whatever reason, Marissa found herself complying. Something told her
she needed to trust this man.
Less than a minute later, they were
stepping outside, the icy winds battering her body, the snow instantly seeping
through her slippers, freezing her feet.
The
blistering cold kick-started her brain, and she glanced at the ski-mask-clad
man, who was now reaching for her hand as he rapidly backed away from the
house, his intense gaze penetrating her, even though she couldn’t even make out
the color of his eyes in the inky darkness, darkened even more by the rapidly
moving clouds temporarily blocking out the moon.
“Let’s go, Marissa!” the man yelled,
grabbing her hand and hauling her through the snow that densely covered her
backyard.
Was it a good sign that he knew her name?
Okay, so maybe she
should’ve been more worried about the fact that snow was now filling her
slippers and saturating her pajama bottoms, or perhaps that she was willingly
running
away
from the safety of her
house with a man she only thought she should trust.
Unable to form words to argue or even to
ask questions, Marissa ran.
More accurately, she
stumbled through the snow, dredging her way around to the side of the house as
fast as she could behind the stranger dressed in black, his clothing of choice
a stark contrast against the brilliant white landscape now lit by the moon.
Her brain fumbled to make sense of what was going on as her slippered feet
trudged through two feet of soft snow blanketing the ground. The gloved hand
holding hers felt safe, but for a fraction of a second, she pondered whether
she was actually running
toward
disaster rather than running
from
it.
A metallic
ping
sounded from close by, causing her
to flinch at the same time her masked companion grabbed her, hauling her close
to his solid body and using himself as a human shield, steering her in the
direction he apparently wanted her to go.
“In!” the man commanded as they approached
a dark SUV haphazardly parked along the side of her house.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Holy shit. Was someone
shooting
at them?
With her stupidity level
possibly at an all-time high, Marissa didn’t question him as he yanked open the
driver’s door and shoved her into the vehicle, she didn’t try to pull away, and
she didn’t glance back at her house, either, when he yelled, “Other side!” and
pushed her across the center console.
“Seat belt!” The brusque word echoed
through the chilly interior of the SUV as the engine roared to life when her
masked companion hopped in the driver’s seat. With frozen fingers, Marissa
fumbled with her seat belt while she prayed the heater would push something
more than arctic air at her.
How long did it take for frostbite to set
in?
Wow. And wasn’t
that
an odd question to worry about at a time like this?
Hoping she wasn’t going to find out, she
forced the notion from her head.
Less than a minute later, Marissa wasn’t
worried about her numb fingers and toes or even what the sound had been that had
woken her in the middle of the night. Her new interest was who this man was and
where they were going.
When she turned to face
him, ready to pelt him with those exact questions, Marissa was tossed around
the front seat like a rag doll—despite the seat belt that was supposed to hold
her in place—as he took a turn on what had to be two wheels.
Fear gripped her once again as she grabbed for the
oh-shit
handle and held on for dear life. He
obviously
knew what he was doing, navigating
the top-heavy vehicle in polar-like conditions, never taking his eyes off the
road.
Chancing
another glimpse in his direction, Marissa studied his profile despite the mask
still covering his features, trying her best to look at him.
Really
look at him.
When he glanced over at her, tugging the
mask off his head, allowing her to see his face for the first time since he’d
arrived to whisk her out of the house, her breath lodged in her throat.
What
the fuck?
“You’re lucky I don’t punch you right
now,” she told him grumpily, earning a chuckle from him.
Continuing to watch him, Marissa willed
her heart to stop pounding, her breath to return to normal.
“Since when did they start sending in the
big guns?” she muttered when she could breathe again, sarcasm and incredulity
replacing the fear that had racked her for the past… According to the blue
digits on the dashboard, only fifteen minutes had passed since she’d awoken to
the noise.
He didn’t respond.
Before Marissa could blast him for what had
happened, there was an explosion that rocked the SUV. Twisting in her seat and
peering through the tinted back window, she saw a fireball billowing in the
chilly night air.
“Ohmygod… Ohmygod… Oh. My. God.” Marissa
turned to eyeball the man who’d come to her rescue. The
last
man she’d expected to see. The
very
man who had just saved her life. “Was that…?”
“Your house? Yeah,” he offered with a
slight edge. Although his rich, dark tone reflected a hint of sympathy, his
white-gray eyes were hard as steel.
Her house, or rather the residence she’d
inhabited for the last two and a half months, was now…
Shit.
It was now a fireball in the sky.
Spinning back around and shifting
nervously in her seat, Marissa sucked
air
into her lungs, praying she wouldn’t hyperventilate and pass out. Or maybe that
would be better than dealing with this now. Who knew?
A firm hand landed on her back, thrusting
her forward.
“Head between your knees, damn it. Don’t
you dare pass out on me,
girl.
”
Girl?
Was he serious right now?
Marissa had no choice but to obey his
booming command, as he was simultaneously forcing her head toward the
floorboard. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breaths, ignoring the way her
hands trembled uncontrollably and her heart raced like a Kentucky Derby
racehorse. A few minutes later, when she finally got her bearings, she sat up
slowly and asked the one question she felt she’d been asking for far too long.
“Who’s after me now?”
Once again, no response.
Typical.
She might never receive an honest answer
to that, but at least Marissa had the answer to her earlier question…