Skip to main content

Excerpt - Secret Agent Father by Laura Scott

Secret Agent Father
by
Laura Scott


He has a son?

Although he's never met the boy who arrives on his doorstep, undercover DEA agent Alex McCade can't deny the truth. The four-year-old is his child, and—like father, like son—little Cody has landed himself in the middle of a dangerous situation. Shelby Jacobson, Cody's aunt, tells Alex that Cody is the only one who can identify his mother's killer. So now the killer is after them both. With his newfound family in danger, Alex will do anything to keep Cody—and Cody's beautiful aunt—safely by his side.

Excerpt of chapter one:

"I made a terrible mistake," her sister Trina said in a low voice, her expression bleak. "I need you to take Cody."

Shelby Jacobson shivered from the desperation in her sister's tone as much as the sharp March wind blowing off the rocky shores of Lake Michigan. Her gaze fell upon her four-and-a-half-year-old nephew, huddled with Trina. Beneath the hood of Cody's coat, his bright green eyes were wide and frightened within his pale face.

Instinctively she knelt down before him, holding out her arms. Cody broke away from his mother, flinging himself at Shelby, burying his face against her chest. She crushed him close, frowning at Trina over his head.

"Of course I'll take him. But why? What's going on? Why did you drag me out of bed and ask me to come down to the marina at four-thirty in the morning?"

Trina didn't flinch under her glare, but Shelby saw a flash of unmistakable regret flicker across her sister's eyes. Trina thrust a piece of paper into Shelby's hand, along with a cell phone. "Here. When you get to the car, call Alex. Once he knows about Cody, he'll protect him. Whatever you do, don't go back to your place, that's the first place he'll look."

Shelby glanced at the note in her hand, her frozen mind trying to untangle Trina's request. She'd assumed, from Trina's frantic call, that her sister and husband had had another fight. But this sounded much more ominous. "I don't understand. Who will look for us? And who's Alex?"

For a long moment Trina stared at her, and then motioned to Cody, still buried deep in her arms. "Alex was my contact. He's also Cody's real father. Let's go. We don't have much time."

Stunned, Shelby gaped at her sister. What? Her contact? Cody's real father? What about Trina's husband, Stephan Kirkland? She cast her memory back in time. Trina had married Stephan a few months after Cody had been born. Of course, she, like everyone else had assumed Cody was Stephan's son.

"Does Stephan know?" Shelby bit back the urge to ask about Cody's biological father, conscious of little ears.

Trina nodded, but kept looking around the deserted marina as if expecting someone to show up. "Stephan isn't listed as Cody's father on his birth certificate. And he can't help. But Alex can. Keep Cody safe, Shelby. Promise me you'll keep him safe."

"Safe from what? Did something happen? Why would you have a 'contact'? Are you some sort of undercover agent?" Zillions more questions whirled in her mind.

Trina waved an impatient hand. "No, I'm not an agent. And none of this matters right now. We have to hurry. Cody's in danger. All I need from you is to keep my son safe. Will you do that for me? Please?"

It wasn't like her sister to beg. "Of course." Shelby loved Cody more than anyone on this earth. He attended Shelby's Little Lambs Day Care Center for preschool and stayed overnight at Shelby's more often than not. The thought of Cody being in danger made her feel sick to her stomach. She couldn't bear it. Was her sister overreacting? Trina tended toward the dramatic. "I'll keep him safe, but I'm sure we can work this out together. We can go to the police for help."

Trina shook her head. "No. You have to leave now. Don't trust anyone, especially the police. Promise me you'll call Alex. That number is a secure line and you need to use that phone. Tell him it's been twelve nights since I've seen him last, that way he'll know I sent you. Don't call anyone but Alex. Understand?"

"No, I don't understand. Why can't you call Alex? Why can't we all go together?" Stubbornly, she stayed where she was, refusing to budge even though Trina's tension was palpable.

"I am coming with you. But if we get separated…don't come after me. Grab Cody and run. Let's go, we need to hurry."

Giving in to her sister's urgent fear, Shelby quickly shoved the phone and scrap of paper into her jacket pocket, and hoisted Cody up into her arms. Deeply thankful that Trina was coming with them, she turned to head back toward the brightly illuminated parking lot. Trina fell into step alongside Shelby, her gaze still intently sweeping the area.

"Please tell me what's going on," Shelby begged. "Why are you and Cody in danger?"

"It's safer for you if I don't explain," Trina whispered. "I've made a terrible mistake, but Alex will know what to do. He knows what's going on."

She wanted to ask more, but decided to wait until they were safely on their way. They were over halfway to her car when Trina sucked in a sharp breath.

"What?" Shelby shifted Cody's weight in her arms, trying to look past his bulky coat to see whatever had caused Trina's sound of distress.

"Run, Shelby! Don't stop for anything. Do you hear? Don't stop no matter what happens." Trina paused momentarily to brush a hand over her son's head, then veered to the right and sprinted in the opposite direction from the parking lot, heading back toward the wooden walkways leading to the rest of the boats suspended in their raised slips for the winter.

"No! Wait! Don't go. Come with us—" Too late. Shelby's eyes widened in horror, her feet glued to the dock as she saw a figure dart into view from behind one of the outbuildings heading straight for Trina. The figure lifted his arm and a sharp retort split the air.

A gun! He was shooting at Trina!

Instinct pulled at her to help her sister, but she remembered what Trina had told her. Shelby clutched Cody tight and surged into high gear, running for the safety of her car as fast as she could with the added burden of Cody's weight in her arms.

Cody began to cry. She whispered words of comfort between panting breaths. They were near the parking lot. She wanted to glance back to see what happened to Trina, but didn't dare. Had the gunman followed Trina? Or was he right now coming up behind them? She strained to listen, but could only hear the whistling wind.

Braced for the pain of a bullet, she bit back a sob and shifted Cody to the side, groping for her keys. Jamming her thumb on the key fob, she unlocked the door and scooted Cody into the passenger seat. She slid behind the wheel, twisting the key in the ignition. She yanked the gearshift into Drive, while she craned her neck around, to search for her sister.

Along the shore, two figures continued to run. The smaller one stayed several yards in front of the larger one. Shelby gasped, when the larger figure pointed his weapon at Trina. Another gunshot ripped through the air.

The smaller figure went down. And didn't move.

"No!" Sobbing, Shelby gunned the engine and swerved out of the marina parking lot, nicking the edge of a nearby light pole. Fear that the gunman would now turn his attention toward her and Cody fueled her panicked desire to get away. She fumbled in her coat pocket for the phone Trina had given her. She dialed 9-1-1, telling the operator that someone was badly hurt down at the lakeshore.

When the dispatcher pressed for more information, she sobbed, "Just go!"

Her careful wording hadn't fooled the little boy beside her. Tears streamed down his face. "Aunt Shelby, is Mama hurt?"

She swiped the dampness from her own eyes and struggled with what to tell him. He was only four-and-a-half years old. He should be home asleep instead of running for his life from a man with a gun. Her heart hammered in her chest. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She needed every ounce of courage she possessed. His safety depended on her.

"Yes. But the police are on their way to help her." She prayed it wasn't already too late.

Dear Lord, protect Trina. Please keep her safe.

Solemn green eyes regarded her steadily, breaking her heart. "Did the bad man get her?"

The bad man? A chill slithered down her spine and she clenched the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking. She wished, more than anything, that Trina had told her exactly what was going on. "Did you see the bad man, Cody?" Could this be why his life was in danger?

He nodded, silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

No! Was this Trina's mistake? Allowing the bad man to see Cody? Her stomach clenched with fear. She pulled her nephew close within the circle of her arm. He buried his face in her side and she held him tight.

"It's okay, Cody. I love you. Everything is going to be just fine. We're safe. God will protect us." She kept her foot hard on the accelerator, speeding through the early morning darkness, taking various turns and changing direction often, in case the gunman had friends who might come after her. At this hour, the streets were empty. After she was certain no one had followed and that she and Cody were safe, she headed toward the main highway.

Don't go to your apartment, that's the first place he'll look. Call Alex. Don't trust anyone, even the police. Only Alex. Understand?

Careful not to jostle Cody, she pulled the slip of paper from her pocket, and divided her attention between the road and the scribbled note. The handwriting wasn't Trina's, but a deep, bold stroke of a pen, with the name Alex McCade and a local phone number.

She had no idea who Alex McCade was—other than Cody's father—but Trina seemed to think he would keep them safe. Trina had sacrificed herself to help them escape, so she had no choice but to trust Trina's judgment. With renewed hope, she glanced at her nephew, nestled against her side.

"Don't worry, Cody. Everything is going to be fine. We're going to find a man who can help us."

Alex McCade prowled the length of his room, rhythmically squeezing a palm-sized foam ball in his right hand. The throbbing pain in his arm often kept him up at night, until he thought he might scream in sheer frustration, but he wouldn't give up his efforts to rebuild the damaged muscles. The bottle of narcotics sat unopened on his nightstand. No matter how intense the agony in his arm, he refused to take them.

After a few minutes of pacing, the wave of pain receded to a tolerable ache. With a sigh, he paused before the sliding glass doors to stare outside where dawn peeked over the horizon.

Deep in the north woods of Wisconsin, there were no city lights to distract the eye from the wonder of nature. A blanket of fresh snow from the most recent March snowstorm covered the ground and coated the trees, illuminating the area around his sister's rustic bed-and-breakfast with a peaceful glow. A perfect, secluded area to recover in.

His sister, Kayla, had welcomed him with open arms. Things were quiet here, she didn't do as much business during the long winter months.

The muscles in his right forearm seized up, the intense agony making him gasp. The foam ball fell from his numb fingers and he clutched above his wrist with his left hand, massaging the injured muscles into relaxing again. Every time he exercised his damaged arm, the same thing happened. The muscles would spasm painfully, forcing him to abandon his exercise regimen.

Helplessly, Alex stared down at the numerous surgical scars that crisscrossed his right arm from wrist to elbow. He didn't want to admit the plastic surgeon who'd spent long hours reconstructing his damaged muscles and tendons might be right. That his gun hand might never return to one-hundred percent. He should be grateful that he hadn't lost the arm completely, yet it was difficult to remain appreciative when his career, his reason for living, teetered on the brink of collapse.

The muscles in his arm loosened and he breathed a sigh of relief. Bending down, he picked up the foam ball and this time, kept it in his left hand. To strengthen the muscles, he opened and closed his fingers, squeezing tight. If he couldn't use his right arm, he'd build up his left. Anything to get him off medical leave and back on duty.

He needed to finish the case that continued to haunt him. For personal reasons of his own, he'd dedicated his life to being a DEA agent. For this case, they'd joined forces with the coast guard, in an effort to identify the mastermind behind the drug trafficking from Canada through the Great Lakes down to Chicago. Working undercover, he knew he was close the cracking the case before he'd been jumped by two men with knives. During his attempt to get away, they'd slashed his arm to ribbons and it had been too late to replace him. His coast guard partner, Rafe DeSilva, was doing his best to pick up the thread of the investigation.

Five years of work might be lost forever if he couldn't get back in the field soon.

He desperately needed to bring the brain behind the drug smuggling operation to justice. To do that, he needed to train the muscles in his left hand to become his dominant one. He didn't want to sacrifice his career for nothing.

His private secure cell phone rang. Startled, he dropped his foam ball in his haste to reach for the phone. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to use his left hand as he warily answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Alex McCade?"

The female voice didn't sound quite right, considering the number indicated the call was from Trina Kirkland, his contact within the Jacobson Marina and shipping business. "Who's this? Who gave you this phone?"

"Trina gave it to me. I'm supposed to tell you it's been twelve nights since she saw Alex last. She also said Alex would help us—me." There was a brief pause and he heard the woman's voice break as if she were struggling to hold back tears. "Please tell me you're Alex McCade."

"Yes, this is Alex." Whoever this woman was, she knew the code phrase he had always used with Trina. What had happened? What had gone wrong?

"I need your help. It's a matter of life and death."

Life and death? His gut tightened with anticipation. Followed by a wave of guilt. He was currently on medical leave. If she was legit, he'd need this woman to talk to Rafe. He shoved the helplessness aside. "I'm going to put you in touch with Rafe, he's with the coast guard."

"No!" Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Trina told me to call you. Only you. No one else. There was a man with a gun. I need your help, please!"

Buy from Barnes and Noble
Buy from Christianbook.com
Buy from Amazon
Buy from Books a Million

Click here to get 2 Free Steeple Hill Love Inspired Suspense Books from Harlequin today.


Save 20% off all Love Inspired Suspense Books

Comments

Popular Posts

Laura’s Apricot Shell Shawl knitting pattern

I usually have a knitting project in mind when I write it into one of my books, but Laura’s apricot-colored shawl just kind of appeared upon the page as I was writing the first scene of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 4: Betrayer , and it surprised even me. I immediately went to my yarn stash to find a yarn for it, and I searched through my antique knitting books to find some stitch patterns. I made her an elegant wool shawl she could wear at home. The shawl ended up tagging along with Laura into the next book, Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 5: Prisoner , where it imparts some comfort to her in her trying circumstances. The two stitch patterns are both from the same book, The Lady’s Assistant, volume 2 by Mrs. Jane Gaugain, published in 1842 . A couple excessively clever and creative knitters might have knit these patterns in the Regency era, but they would have only passed them around by word of mouth or scribbled “recipes” to friends or family, and it wouldn’t have been widely use

No Cold Bums toilet seat cover

Captain's Log, Stardate 08.22.2008 I actually wrote out my pattern! I was getting a lot of hits on my infamous toilet seat cover , and I wanted to make a new one with “improvements,” so I paid attention and wrote things down as I made the new one. This was originally based off the Potty Mouth toilet cover , but I altered it to fit over the seat instead of the lid. Yarn: any worsted weight yarn, about 120 yards (this is a really tight number, I used exactly 118 yards. My suggestion is to make sure you have about 130 yards.) I suggest using acrylic yarn because you’re going to be washing this often. Needle: I used US 8, but you can use whatever needle size is recommended by the yarn you’re using. Gauge: Not that important. Mine was 4 sts/1 inch in garter stitch. 6 buttons (I used some leftover shell buttons I had in my stash) tapestry needle Crochet hook (optional) Cover: Using a provisional cast on, cast on 12 stitches. Work in garter st until liner measures

Narrow Escape contest for January!

I’m so excited because my January Love Inspired Suspense, Narrow Escape , is now available! Here’s the back cover blurb: KIDNAPPED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT Arissa Tiong and her three-year-old niece are snatched off the street by members of a notorious drug gang. Having lost her police officer brother to a drug bust gone bad, Arissa knows the danger she's in. But she has no idea why they want her. Desperate to protect the little girl, Arissa escapes and runs straight to Nathan Fischer. She knows the handsome, weary former narcotics cop hasn't told her everything about the night that ended her brother's life and Nathan's career. But he's all that stands between her and dangerous thugs who are after something she doesn't even know she has. This is the 4th book in my Sonoma series , but each book is stand-alone. The hero is Nathan Fischer, who had a minor role in the 3rd book, Stalker in the Shadows . To celebrate, I’m giving away 10 copies of Narrow Escape ! Her

Keriah’s Pyrennees Shawl knitting pattern w/ @knitpicks Palette

Why I knit this shawl: I wanted to knit the sunset-colored shawl Keriah was wearing in chapter 5 of my book, Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 2: Berserker , so I looked for an antique pattern that might have been used during the Regency era. This one caught my eye, even though it was published in a knitting book a few decades later than the Regency era. The Spider-Net border pattern was most definitely in use in the Regency period, but it’s also remotely possible that the Alice-Maud stitch and the lacy border stitch patterns were also in use during the Regency, being passed on from knitter to knitter via hand-written receipts, by verbal instruction, or with knitted sampler squares (like how many Shetland lace patterns and Bavarian cable patterns were shared). My/Keriah’s version of this shawl would have been lacy but warm because it is knit with fingering yarn on small needles. Since Keriah was cold, I think she would have grabbed this shawl rather than something more elegant and airy.

Phoebe’s Muffatees knitting pattern

In Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 4: Betrayer , Phoebe wears a pair of lace muffatees, or gauntlets/arm-warmers that hide a rather deadly surprise. :) I actually got the idea of having her wear muffatees because I saw a lace manchette pattern in Miss Watts’ Ladies’ Knitting and Netting Book , published in 1840, page 20. However, after doing some research, I found that they were called muffatees in the Regency era, and the term manchette did not arise until a few years later. They were essentially arm-warmers worn under those long sleeves on day dresses, which were usually made of muslin too thin to be very warm. I decided to knit Phoebe’s muffatees using a Leaf Pattern originally suggested for a purse in Mrs. Gaugain’s book, The Lady’s Assistant, volume 1, 5th edition published in 1842, pages 234-237. I think there was an error and row 36 in the original pattern was duplicated erroneously, so I have adjusted the pattern. The original manchette pattern called for “fine” needles a

New contest!

I haven’t had a contest since October! Here’s new one just in time for Christmas. I’m picking 3 winners to each be able to choose 10 books from my Christian book list! And yes, that list includes my books! 1) You get one entry into the contest when you sign up for my email newsletter at http://www.camytang.com/ . If you already belong to my email newsletter, let me know! 2) You get a second entry into the contest if you Like my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/CamyTangAuthor . If you already Like my Facebook page, let me know! 3) You get a third entry into the contest if you join my Goodreads group: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/49078 . If you already belong to my Goodreads group, let me know! 4) You get a fourth entry into the contest if you follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/camytang . If you already follow me on Twitter, let me know! 5) You get extra entries into the contest if you get someone else to join my email newsletter. Just email camy {at] c

Toilet seat cover

Captain’s Log, Supplemental Update August 2008: I wrote up the pattern for this with "improvements"! Here's the link to my No Cold Bums toilet seat cover ! Okay, remember a few days ago I was complaining about the cold toilet seat in my bathroom? Well, I decided to knit a seat cover. Not a lid cover, but a seat cover. I went online and couldn’t find anything for the seat, just one pattern for the lid by Feminitz.com . However, I took her pattern for the inside edge of the lid cover and modified it to make a seat cover. Here it is! It’s really ugly stitch-wise because originally I made it too small and had to extend it a couple inches on each side. I figured I’d be the one staring at it, so who cared if the extension wasn’t perfectly invisible? I used acrylic yarn since, well, that’s what I had, and also because it’s easy to wash. I’ll probably have to wash this cover every week or so, but it’s easy to take off—I made ties which you can see near the back of the seat. And

Year of the Dog serial novel

About Year of the Dog : A month or two ago, I remembered an old manuscript I had completed but which hadn’t sold. It was a contemporary romance meant for Zondervan, titled Year of the Dog . The book had gone into the pipeline and I even got another title ( Bad Dog ) and a cover for it, but eventually my editor at the time decided she didn’t want to publish it, for various reasons. She instead requested a romantic suspense, and so I cannibalized some of the characters from Year of the Dog and thrust them into the next book I wrote, which was Protection for Hire . Honestly, I didn’t take a lot from Year of the Dog to put in Protection for Hire , aside from character names and a few relationship ties. I was originally thinking I’d post Year of the Dog as-is on my blog as a free read, but then it occurred to me that I could revamp it into a romantic suspense and change the setting to Hawaii. It would work out perfectly as (yet another) prequel to the Warubozu series and introduc

Year of the Dog serial novel, chapter 13

I’m posting a Humorous Christian Romantic Suspense serial novel here on my blog! Year of the Dog is a (second) prequel to my Warubozu Spa Chronicles series. Year of the Dog serial novel by Camy Tang Mari Mutou, a professional dog trainer, is having a bad year. While renovating her new dog kenneling and training facility, she needs to move in with her disapproving family, who have always made her feel inadequate—according to them, a job requiring her to be covered in dog hair and slobber is an embarrassment to the family. She convinces her ex-boyfriend to take her dog for a few months … but discovers that his brother is the irate security expert whose car she accidentally rear-ended a few weeks earlier. Ashwin Keitou has enough problems. His aunt has just shown up on his doorstep, expecting to move in with him, and he can’t say no because he owes her everything—after his mother walked out on them, Auntie Nell took in Ashwin and his brother and raised them in a loving Chri

Chinese Take-Out and Sushi for One

Captain’s Log, Supplemental My agent sent me an article from Publisher’s Weekly that discussed this incident: Chinese Take-Out Spawns Christian Controversy And here’s also a blog post that talks about it in more detail: The Fighting 44s This is Soong-Chan Rah’s blog: The PCS blog In sum: Apparently Zondervan (yes, my publisher), who has partnered with Youth Specialties, had put out a youth leaders skit that had stereotypical Asian dialogue, which offended many Christian Asian Americans. In response to the outcry, Zondervan/Youth Specialities put out a sincere apology and is not only freezing the remaining stock of the book, but also reprinting it and replacing the copies people have already bought. I am very proud of my publisher for how they have handled this situation. The skit writers have also issued a public apology . (I feel sorry for them, because they were only trying to write a funny skit, not stir up this maelstrom of internet controversy. I’ve been in youth work long enou