by Leigh Bale
Broken Trust
by
Leigh Bale
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Copyright 2013 by Leigh Bale
First Edition published 2013 by Leigh Bale
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.
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His secret could destroy them both…
Toni Hamilton is torn by grief after a special ops mission in Afghanistan claims the life of her brother. When a cryptic letter arrives from him one month later, Toni finds her own life threatened and the only person she can turn to for help is the man who may be responsible for his death.
Hoping to heal from the bullet wound in his leg and the guilt lodged in his heart, Sergeant “Mac” MacKenzie seeks solitude in Nevada, at his remote cabin on Crystal Lake. When Toni shows up on his mountain, injured and frightened, Mac finds himself drawn into a volatile situation that could get them both killed. Now, he must find a way to protect Toni when he doesn’t know who to trust, including himself.
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Note to reader: This book is an inspirational romantic suspense
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Discover other titles by Leigh Bale at Amazon.com
Visit Leigh Bale’s website at www.LeighBale.com
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This book is dedicated to Daniel. My Marine.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Dear Reader Letter
Excerpt from Healing the Forest Ranger
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Broken Trust
Chapter One
They moved in under cover of darkness. The purr of the Pave Hawk helicopter filled the parched night air. Inside the chopper, Sergeant Michael “Mac” MacKenzie sat back on the bench seat with the other members of his special ops team and took a deep inhale. Operation Mongoose had officially moved into action. Their mission: retrieve survivors and destroy top secret intelligence on board a downed U.S. military aircraft before the Taliban found it.
To ease the sudden pressure in his ears, Mac popped a piece of spearmint chewing gum into his mouth and chomped down. Sweat beaded his brow and he wiped it away with his forearm before adjusting the Kevlar helmet on his head. He tugged at the collar of his camouflage uniform and flexed his toes in his Oakley assault boots. Highly alert and ready for action.
Not much longer now.
From the open door of the chopper, the lights of Kabul glimmered in the distance as they left the city and traveled east toward the high peaks of the Hindu Kush Mountains. The dry heat burned his eyes and he blinked. Pitch black, the sky was alive with stars. It’d be morning soon and they hurried to beat the harsh, dusty wind that made it impossible to see and filled their clothes, eyes, ears and equipment with sand.
“In and out,” Major Carpenter, his commander boomed over the drone of the chopper. “We’ll reach the crash site, retrieve the package, and get out of Dodge before the insurgents know we’re there.”
Lieutenant Gordon, the team’s explosives expert, flashed a thumbs up. Simple and routine.
Yeah, right. With all the missions Mac had been on, not one of them had been simple. Or safe. But this time, something about the impending danger made his pulse trip into double-time. Adrenaline. A rush he found strangely exhilarating.
He glanced at the six other men on his team, squinting to see their expressions in the dark. Lieutenant Eric Hamilton, their intelligence officer and Mac’s best friend since childhood, caught his gaze. Mac knew Eric better than anyone. Eric hated flying and usually showed a cheesy grin to cover his nervousness.
Not tonight.
Even in the low light, Mac caught Eric’s somber expression and tight lips. A subtle tension settled in Eric’s shoulders and clenched hands.
Something was wrong.
For the past two days, Eric hadn’t been himself. Yesterday, Mac had asked what was bothering him, but Eric brushed him off, promising to discuss it later when they had more time. It probably had something to do with the letter Eric insisted on mailing home to his two sisters.
Family trouble.
Cara, more than likely. Since their parents had died last year, Eric’s teenaged sister had become nothing but bad news. Toni was doing her best to run the family shoe store and finish raising Cara, but the situation wasn’t easy at home.
Eric’s eyes locked with Mac’s for several seconds, then his gaze slid away. Mac would find out the problem in the morning, after they’d completed their mission and returned to their barracks for a good meal. He wouldn’t let Eric put him off any longer.
Sergeant Andrus sat on the other side of the chopper. Mac had met Andrus just one hour before their flight, but Eric knew him well. Both men had served together as intelligence officers. They had the job of destroying the electronics from the downed aircraft, but Mac sensed hostility between them.
Andrus avoided Eric’s glare by staring at his booted feet. Something stood between these two. No doubt either professional envy or a woman involved.
No, it couldn’t be a woman. Mac would know if Eric was in love. Yet, Eric wasn’t the type to get involved in petty jealousy either. So what could it be?
Yep, Mac had a lot to discuss with Eric. He didn’t like the distance that seemed to be growing between them lately. A steak dinner and a night off would fix that problem. They had leave coming soon and Mac planned to make the most of it.
No one spoke. Each man’s gaze darted to the chopper door where the barren landscape whizzed past in a blur of shadows. Nothing but the scorched remains of poppy fields, mountains and rocks. A country decimated by war, bloodshed and hate.
Mac sighed inwardly. Next week, he and Eric would fly home and spend time fishing with Dad on Crystal Lake in Nevada. They’d take long, cool swims and enjoy the smell of tall pinion pine and aspens on Thorne Mountain.
Mac might even drive in to Vegas and visit Eric’s family. With any luck, he’d get invited to supper. An excuse to see Toni again.
He and Eric would eat Eric’s grandmother’s homemade apple pie and tease Cara about all her boyfriends. Mac liked teasing Toni, too, but she didn’t smile much since their broken engagement. He’d like to make her laugh like she used to, but figured he no longer had a right to even try.
He shook his head. Focus, MacKenzie. Think about the mission.
“Okay, listen up.” Major Carpenter yelled as he stood and clasped the handle hanging above his head to steady himself. “You know the drill. Let’s be alert. Sergeant MacKenzie and I will go first. You all know the rendezvous point if we get separated. Don’t be late.”
At the Major’s cue, they each pulled on their night goggles. Mac’s shadowed world turned to eerie green light as he waited for the drop.
Grim determination filled Lieutenant Silvestri’s ey
es while Gordon, the comedian of the group, flashed a wide grin. “Piece of cake.”
Mac and the other men chuckled. It eased the tension some.
As the team’s field medic, Mac braced his left arm against his first aid bag slung across his back, hoping he wouldn’t need it tonight. Shifting the CAR-4 rifle on his right shoulder, he prayed he wouldn’t need that, either. Someday, he’d like to finish medical school and be transferred to a nice, quiet military hospital.
But that dream seemed years away.
He watched from the open doorway as the chopper flew like an elegant bird past the rock wall of the canyon rising up on either side of them. The balmy breeze did little to ease the oppressive heat. The camouflage greasepaint he’d coated on his face itched and he resisted the urge to scratch.
The chopper pulled up and held position over the first drop zone less than two miles from their objective. From here, they’d hike the rest of the way. Then, they’d return to the rendezvous point on a hilltop where the chopper would pick them up.
Lieutenant Silvestri helped the Major toss two rappelling lines out the door. The whirring of the chopper blades overhead filled the void and Major Carpenter waved a hand. Mac stood and steadied himself. In ritualistic fashion, he made a fist with his gloved hand and reached toward Eric. His best friend hesitated, then flashed a grin and bumped his knuckles against Mac’s. Without words, they promised to watch each other’s back and return home safe. Never leave a fallen man behind. Mac took the vow seriously and knew Eric felt the same. A promise they’d each kept since they’d joined the U.S. Marine Corps six years earlier.
In unison, Mac and the Major clasped the heavy nylon lines and slid out of the chopper like a yo-yo without the upswing. In a matter of seconds, they hit the ground and darted for shelter, their CAR-4’s primed to fire and cover the other men ejecting from the chopper.
Mac hunkered down amongst the rocks and scanned the cliffs surrounding him, wary of attack. The Taliban had a talent for hiding in places only a scorpion would think of.
He waited as Gordon and Andrus slid down the line. Next came Silvestri, the team’s sniper. A crack shot who’d learned his technique as a boy hunting deer in the Rocky Mountains. Silvestri planned to go hunting with Mac and Eric on Thorne Mountain as soon as they all found the time.
Eric came last, just like clockwork. His feet touched the ground and, in one pack, they started to run. Experienced, self-assured and independent. Some called the team anti-social. Lone wolves that solved problems. Mac didn’t mind being anti-social. He liked his solitude. But it had also cost him his relationship with Toni, the only woman he’d ever loved.
The chopper lifted off and disappeared into the night. Mac knew it would circle back and wait like a giant hawk, ready to swoop down and cover their position from above at a moment’s notice.
Without a word, the Major took the lead and they trotted behind him in single file. Their booted feet sank deep in the sand as they held their weapons ready. Alert. Moving through the night with stealth.
Twenty minutes later, they reached a short embankment leading into a narrow canyon and paused. Using night vision binoculars, Gordon scanned the area for movement. He lifted a hand to signal all clear.
The men spread out, staying close to the rock wall. As they approached the interior, they saw their objective. The downed military aircraft lay like a great white whale beached in the sand, its body torn to shreds from the impact of the crash eight hours earlier. The blackened cockpit and front of the plane still smoldered, showing a gaping hole in its side. Fire had gutted the plane, no doubt killing the pilot and destroying the electronic components. But they had to make sure.
Eric headed toward the plane. Mac stepped forward to accompany him and ensure no survivors. Then, they could all go home.
A roaring whoosh filled the air, the unmistakable sound of mortar.
“Incoming!” Mac yelled and pushed Silvestri with him as they lunged for shelter behind a large boulder.
Silvestri grunted, rolled and covered his head with his arms. Mac flattened himself in the dirt as an RPG, a rocket propelled grenade, exploded against the cliff. Pebbles rained down on his back. His helmet and an outcropping ledge saved him from being pummeled by heavy rock.
Dazed from the unexpected explosion, Mac shook his head, trying to stop the ringing in his ears. The sound of gunfire permeated his senses. He crouched low and fired his assault rifle, aiming at the bursts of light coming from enemy fire on top of the ledge above.
With his night goggles, he could just make out the bearded faces and white head coverings of their assailants. Taliban insurgents. And they had the high ground.
An ambush!
How had the insurgents found them so soon?
Bullets whizzed past and ricocheted around Mac. Splinters of rock peppered his face, stinging like bees.
“Hamilton! Get out of there,” he hollered at Eric.
Pinned down in the middle of the canyon, Eric huddled behind a large rock. If an insurgent aimed an RPG at his position, he’d be toast.
Against regulations, Mac cross-fired over Eric’s head, to give Eric the chance to run for cover. But he didn’t move. To his right, Mac heard Silvestri radio the chopper for air support.
The thunder of heavy guns boomed. Mortar shells slammed into the cliff. The earth shook and Mac feared the whole mountain might come down on his head.
Gunfire inundated Eric’s position and he yelled for help. Mac had to get him out of there. In a frenzy of desperation, he poured fire over his friend’s head.
Eric bellied down in the sand and tried to inch to a safer spot. Spatters of gunfire forced him back. He crouched low, prepared to run. He’d be cut to ribbons.
Mac fired again. “No!”
Eric jerked hard and fell face down. He didn’t move.
Mac froze, and felt the blood drain from his face.
Get up, buddy. Get up!
Rage billowed inside Mac and he roared with fury as he pounded the cliffs with bullets. Enemy fire buffeted him and white hot pain seared his leg. In a haze of agony, he fought off the dizzying nausea that followed and kept firing. He had to get to Eric. He’d promised to bring him home safe. He couldn’t face Toni and her family if he failed.
Exploding shrapnel forced Mac to seek cover. He scrambled amongst the rocks and reached for his medic bag. Where were his men? He couldn’t see Silvestri. He must have changed position.
The whirring of the chopper and the stuttering of its gunfire sounded overhead, a welcome relief. A smatter of bullets shattered the rocks above, driving the insurgents back.
Mac’s vision blurred and he shook it off. He had to find his men. Had to help them. “Silvestri! Gordon!”
No response.
He brushed sweat out of his eyes and realized it was blood. He changed his magazine, having reloaded the gun so many times he could do it by touch alone. His hands trembled as pain permeated his entire body. But he still refused to quit.
“Major! Andrus!”
Nothing. Just the spray of gunfire along the ridge that left his ears ringing.
Mac shuddered as he jerked open his medic bag and tied a tourniquet around his calf. Blood poured down his leg, filling his boot. He groaned, his throat raw from yelling. The wound burned like fire.
He struggled to rise and stumbled. His injured leg refused to hold him. With his medic bag in tow, he crawled into the open, trying to reach Eric. Bullets spat sand in his eyes and terror prickled his skin. He kept going, using his elbows to inch forward. The shrill smatter of a Gatling gun high along the ridge told him the chopper had him covered. Just one thought pounded his mind.
He had to reach Eric. He wouldn’t leave without him.
Thorne Mountain, Nevada
Five Weeks Later
Chapter Two
“Get off my tail!”
The brown pickup truck behind Toni Hamilton rode her bumper too close, driving too fast. She slowed her green compact car and pulled to one s
ide of the dirt road circling Crystal Lake. Branches from the stand of timber edging the road scraped the side of her car. Maybe the other driver would take the hint and pass by. She wasn’t normally a Type A personality, but this was ridiculous.
As expected, the man accelerated his truck. Rocks and dust peppered Toni’s car as he zipped past. She cringed, hoping she didn’t end up with a broken windshield.
He gave her a sneer of disgust and she waited for him to move on. Instead, he pulled up short and cut her off with a squeal of breaks and gravel.
“Hey! What are you doing?” She spoke out loud, knowing he couldn’t hear her. But he could surely see her irritated glare.
She would have driven around, but he stopped in the middle of the road, blocking her route on the narrow path.
A gun! The man waved it as he threw open the door of his truck and stepped out. Was this for real?
Toni wasn’t going to wait around to find out. In a blaze of panic, she fumbled with the gear shift, trying to throw it into reverse. Instead, she jerked the car into neutral and it stalled. As he came around the side of his truck, she grabbed her purse and shoved open the door. The man yelled at her in a foreign language, his long black ponytail whipping across his angry face. In a single glance, Toni envisioned herself lying dead on the abandoned mountain road, far from civilization and anyone who might hear her screams.
A victim of road rage.
She sprang toward the sheltering trees of the forest. A shot rang out. The bullet whizzed past her face and she ducked her head.
Fear choked off her air supply. Her three-inch Italian heels sank deep into the soft soil like fingernails clawing wet cement. She should have worn blue jeans and tennis shoes. How had this simple task turned into a nightmare?
“Stop!” A bullet spattered into the bark of a tree trunk to her right. Another one zinged high overhead.
He meant to kill her.
She kept going. Limbs and branches snatched at her as she passed, yanking at her long hair, ripping her new silk blouse. Beneath the shadows of pine and juniper, she lost sight of the afternoon sun. Veering in the direction of the lake, she prayed she found Mac’s cabin soon. It must be close.
