Cover Copy
Can they rekindle their love before a killer strikes?
Brody Grant had it all—wealth, the woman of his dreams, and a young son he loved more than life. But his world came crashing down the day River was kidnapped and murdered. Torn apart by grief, he creates Counterstrike, a covert team of highly trained operatives whose sole mission is to rescue kidnap victims.
After losing her only child, Arden Grant tried to pick up the pieces and go on. But her husband is distant, immersed in his perilous quest to save others. Leaving Brody to live in the backwoods of Vermont, she searches for solace in simplicity.
Brody finds fulfillment in his work, even if he can’t forget the only woman he ever loved. Until he crosses paths with a vicious psychopath with a very personal connection. On a single-minded crusade to track down his adversary, Brody unwittingly puts Arden squarely in the crosshairs of a ruthless murderer.
Arden wants no part of the danger her ex-husband brings into her safe but lonely world. Except neither of them can find peace until they stop a madman and put the past to rest. And maybe discover a future together they both believed was lost forever.
“Jannine Gallant gives you a satisfying read.”—Kat Martin, New York Times bestselling author
“Jannine Gallant is an exciting new voice in romantic suspense.”—Mary Burton, New York Times bestselling author
“Every Step She Takes delivers enough twists and turns to keep the reader guessing until the end.”—Nancy Bush, New York Times bestselling author
“Every Move She Makes will have you looking over your shoulder long after the lights go out.”—Nancy Bush, New York Times bestselling author
“Jannine Gallant is a talented author who knows how to grab your attention and keeps the suspense in high gear until the end.”—RT Book Reviews on Buried Truth
“Gallant’s well-wrought second Siren Cove contemporary…will keep the reader enthralled until the explosive conclusion.”—Publishers Weekly on Lost Innocence
“In Gallant’s gripping third Siren Cove romantic thriller…mystery adds intensity to this fast-faced story.”—Publishers Weekly on Hidden Secrets
Books by Jannine Gallant
Counterstrike
Fatal Encounter
Lethal Memory
Siren Cove
Buried Truth
Lost Innocence
Hidden Secrets
Born To Be Wilde
Wilde One
Wilde Side
Wilde Thing
Wilde Horses
Who’s Watching Now
Every Move She Makes
Every Step She Takes
Every Vow She Breaks
Secrets Of Ravenswood
We’ll Never Tell
She’ll Never Rest
He’ll Never Know
Redemption Texas
Nothing But Trouble
Asking For Trouble
A Deadly Love
Road To Serendipity
An Uncertain Destiny
Bittersweet
Imminent Danger
A Counterstrike Novel
Jannine Gallant
Table of Contents
Cover Copy
Other Books
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Coming Soon
About the Author
Copyright
Imminent Danger
Copyright © 2020 by Jannine Gallant
This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Jannine Gallant.
Cover Art by Creative Author Services
Published by Jannine Gallant
United States of America
First Electronic Edition: March 2020
First Print Edition: March 2020
ISBN-13: 9798605225584
Dedication
To my daughter, Kristen. Go for your dreams. Make them happen. I have every faith in you!
Chapter One
Arden Grant sat cross-legged on the snow-crusted grass beside her son’s headstone and tried not to cry. Despite the thick blanket beneath her, she’d grown numb from the cold seeping through her wool pants and heavy down jacket. Not that it mattered. She was used to feeling numb. It had been five years, six months and two days since the worst day of her life. The day a greedy, callous criminal had killed her precious boy.
Today, River would have been nine years old. Smart—even at three and a half, she’d known how bright he was. Funny—he’d never failed to make her laugh with his silly antics. Tough—half his genes had come from his father, so that was a given. Compassionate—at least she liked to think he would have grown up to care about others. The fact that she would never know what type of adult River would have become hurt even more than the constant ache of missing him.
Because it was her son’s birthday, the pain was stronger than usual. The anger deeper. Closing her eyes, she let the wind blowing off the sea cool the fire burning inside her. Rage would only fuel her grief. Better to remember the happy times before her family was torn asunder and try to move on.
When she finally opened her eyes, a lone figure crossed the cemetery, coming from the direction of the street. Too far away to make out the man’s features, she had no doubt who he was. No one was that massive—with the size and strength of a bull moose—or moved with such confidence and purpose. No one held his back so straight or angled his chin in such an aggressive manner. No one but River’s father.
The man she’d walked away from, too broken to deal with his pain in addition to her own, not when his idea of coping was to fight back against all the evil in the world. A never-ending battle that didn’t allow time for healing. That kept the hurt front and center.
Brody stopped when he reached her side. He didn’t say anything, just bent to run his finger over the carved indention of his son’s name in stone. After a moment, he sat next to her on the blanket and wrapped his arms around updrawn knees. Pale blue eyes the color of the cold March sky gazed toward the ocean. His jaw was rock-hard, his expression impenetrable. Not from lack of sympathy—never that. His stoicism was his way of not burdening her further.
It hadn’t worked when they were married. It didn’t work now.
“I wondered if I’d see you today.” She spoke calmly, keeping her feelings in check.
He turned to study her. “I figured you’d be out here. You look half frozen.”
“I am, but it’s hard to walk away.”
“You don’t leave him behind. River comes with us wherever we go.”
; “In our hearts.” Her voice cracked.
Brody slid his arm around her for a brief hug before he pulled away and put another foot of space between them. “How are you, Arden? If you need anything—”
“I don’t.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away tears. With her emotions under control, she gave him a quick smile. “Honey Bee Mine is turning a nice profit. I built more hives and can barely bottle my product as fast as the orders are coming in.” She hunched one shoulder. “My expenses are minimal. Thanks, but I manage just fine.”
“I’m glad.” His lips tightened. “If you ever want to stop managing and splurge a little, the fund I set up for you is just sitting there, making more money.”
She received a statement each month and knew exactly how much was in the account. Even after being married to Brody for four years, seven months and eight days, her mind boggled at the extent of his wealth. Not that she intended to touch any of it.
“I know, but I’m fine.”
He nodded. “Would you like to come over to the house to warm up before you head home?” One thick brow shot toward the knit cap covering his short blond hair. “I assume you intend to drive straight back to Vermont this afternoon?”
“That’s the plan. I may make a quick stop at Fred’s to get a cup of chowder before I go. That’ll warm me up.”
“Do you want some company?” When she didn’t respond immediately, he continued, “Today isn’t easy for either of us. You don’t have to spend it alone.”
Her heart ached, and she let out a small sigh. “What’s the point, Brody?”
“We’re divorced. Doesn’t mean we can’t be there for each other. I still care about you.”
She cared about him, too. Which made seeing him on the rare occasion they ran into each other even harder. But she could tell from the flash of emotion in his eyes that he was hurting, so she tamped down her inclination to run and hide. “Fine. We can have lunch together.”
He rose to his feet and gave her a hand up. While he folded the blanket, she kissed her gloved fingers and pressed them to the headstone. Turning to follow her ex-husband, she left behind the bouquet of tulips she’d brought, a bright splash of color on the snow-covered grave.
They walked side by side through the cemetery, not speaking. Arden didn’t feel the need for idle chatter. Their relationship had been built on an innate compatibility, with the experience to know what the other was thinking without words. That hadn’t changed. She was pretty darn certain that right now, Brody was wondering how to make her feel better because that’s what he was. A fixer. Except he couldn’t heal her wounds. They ran too deep.
A silver Mercedes coupe was parked behind her old Jeep. He stopped beside the sportscar and hit the remote while she stuck her key in the door of the Jeep and turned it to pop the locks.
“I’ll follow you to Fred’s.”
“Okay.” Arden climbed inside and gave the door a hard tug to shut it. After cranking the engine to life, she pulled forward without looking back and drove through the streets of Marblehead in the direction of the docks. Memories pushed and shoved for dominance as she traveled the length of the picturesque seaside town where she’d spent the happiest years of her life. Along with the most miserable months. Not willing to go down that rabbit hole, she shut them all out.
Fred’s Fish Shack, a gray board shanty squashed between expensive shops and restaurants, served the best fish and chips and clam chowder on the planet. At one o’clock on a midweek day in March, the lot held only a couple of vehicles. She parked and got out, burying her hands in her pockets as the wind whipped strands of long blond hair around her face. Once Brody joined her, they walked quickly toward the door.
A wave of heat and the exquisite aroma of chowder hit her senses as they entered the restaurant. Her knees nearly buckled, and she realized she’d had nothing but a single muffin to eat at six that morning before leaving on the lengthy drive to the Massachusetts shore. Her stomach growled.
Brody took her arm and led her to a table with a view of the windswept harbor. She took off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair he held out, then set her purse at her feet before sitting. A moment later, he took the chair opposite her.
“I’ve missed Fred’s.” He gave the young woman who approached their table with water glasses and menus a casual smile.
“Can I get you folks something to drink, Mr. Grant?”
The fact that the server knew who Brody was didn’t surprise Arden. She would have been more amazed if the woman hadn’t recognized him. In Marblehead, the Grants were practically royalty.
“Tea for me, please,” she answered.
“The same.” Brody moved the menu to rest his arms on the table. “Thank you.”
She nodded and hurried away.
“Why have you missed Fred’s?” Arden turned away from the spectacular view of seagulls soaring above the waves to face him. “You still live here.”
He shrugged. “More often than not, I sleep in Boston at Counterstrike headquarters and eat most of my meals there. I probably don’t spend more than a couple nights a week at home.”
She pictured the elaborate Victorian mansion right on the water off Ocean Avenue. Home to generations of Grants back to the dawn of time. Or so it had seemed, walking the halls filled with portraits of Brody’s dour Puritan ancestors.
“Sounds like you. Always working.”
“Unfortunately, we never have a shortage of victims who need rescuing. Too many people in this world are animals driven by greed.”
Arden took a sip of her water and didn’t respond. Counterstrike was a subject that made her stomach knot. After River was kidnapped and murdered, Brody had set up the covert organization, hoping to save innocents and prevent other families from experiencing the agonizing pain they’d endured. She couldn’t fathom how he was able to immerse himself so completely into the ugly world that embodied the lowest point of her existence.
“I can’t argue with that.” She sat back in her chair as their server returned with a steaming teapot, cups, and a basket of flavored teas. Choosing chamomile, she put the bag in her cup and poured water over it.
“Are you folks ready to order?”
Arden glanced up and smiled. “A bowl of chowder, please.”
The woman nodded. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the same plus calamari to share.”
“Excellent choice.” She took their menus and walked away.
He dropped a green tea bag into his hot water. “Whenever I mention Counterstrike, you close up. Tight lips. Defensive posture.”
“Wow. Did you get a degree in psychology I don’t know about?”
“It doesn’t take a diploma to read you, Arden.” He dunked the bag a few times and swished it with more force than was necessary. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to what I do. I work with some of the bravest people I’ve ever met, including my stint with the SEALs, and we save lives.”
“Yes, you do. I never doubted you’re a true hero. But nothing you and your team does will bring back River. You can punish yourself over and over again by risking your life for others, but it won’t change the past.”
“It isn’t a punishment.”
She studied the vein throbbing at his temple, the grim determination in his eyes, and knew he meant what he said. She also knew he was lying to himself.
“Let’s not argue. How are your parents?”
Some of the stiffness leeched out of his spine. “Dad’s fighting mad about the current political climate in D.C., but he’s determined to work with the opposition and get something done.”
“If anyone can make the Senate functional, it’s your father.” She blew on her cup before sipping her tea. “And your mom?”
“She has an exhibit scheduled soon at an art gallery. Between painting, hostess duties, and her charity work, I think she’s busier than Dad.”
“It sounds like they’re thriving. Good. I always loved your parents.
Still do.”
“The feeling is mutual. Even after five years, my mom hasn’t forgiven me for our breakup.”
“Despite the fact I’m the one who walked away?”
“She still thinks I must be guilty for whatever went wrong.”
As their server returned with their lunch, Arden kept her thoughts to herself. Rosemary Grant was a smart woman because their split had definitely been Brody’s fault. Instead of drawing them closer together, he’d let River’s death tear them apart.
After the woman left the table, he dipped a fried calamari ring in Fred’s special sauce. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone? I hate to think of you shoveling snow by yourself all winter in the wilds of Vermont.”
She flexed one arm beneath her handknit white sweater. “I can shovel with the best of them. But to answer your question, I date infrequently. No one serious recently.” She spooned up a bite of chowder and let the amazing flavor slide over her tongue. “God, that’s good. Honestly, I’m happiest home alone with my animals. Men just complicate things.”
“How many do you have now? Pets, not men.”
She grinned, her first genuine smile during what was always a bitterly poignant day. “Two dogs, one cat, and three lop-eared rabbits. I don’t consider the chickens pets.”
Picking up another calamari ring, he popped it into his mouth. “I would hope not since you eat them.”
“I mostly keep laying hens. What about you?” She asked the question even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She wished Brody happiness, but in a non-specific sort of way. Imagining him with another woman was something she tried to avoid.
“No pets. I don’t have time for a meaningful relationship—canine, feline, or human. Anyway, most women aren’t very understanding when it comes to the demands of my work.”
Imminent Danger (A Counterstrike Novel Book 3) Page 1
