4 Suns
Excerpt:
“What does Jeff want?” FBI special agent Eddie Peterson asked
Mercy as they simultaneously tried to pass through the conference room doorway.
Eddie stepped back, a laptop under one arm and two books under the other as he
precariously gripped a cup of coffee by its lid.
Mercy darted through before he lost control of the coffee. “I
don’t know, but he told me to clear my afternoon.”
Eddie frowned as he set the cup on the conference table. “He
didn’t tell me that. I’ve got three meetings.”
Mercy shrugged. It was part of her job to change direction on a
dime, and Jeff’s vague message had perked up what had promised to be a dull day
of paperwork. Mercy had been a special agent with the FBI’s Bend, Oregon, field
office for nearly a year after spending five years at the big Portland office.
Including her and Eddie, Bend had five agents, in contrast to the hundred
agents in Portland.
But Bend was close to her heart. She’d been raised thirty minutes
away in the tiny town of Eagle’s Nest, and until she arrived in Bend on a case
last September, she hadn’t visited in fifteen years. After that case she left
behind Portland’s hustle and bustle for the stunning vistas of the Cascade
mountain range to Bend’s west and the wide-open plains to its east.
Her boss, Jeff Garrison, entered the room with two
official-looking strangers close behind him. Instinct told Mercy they weren’t
FBI—but something about them felt very governmental, and she noticed instantly
they were discreetly armed. The woman was tall, dark, and elegant—she could
have been a model twenty years earlier, and her gaze zoomed in on Mercy,
studying her from head to toe. After the moment of intense scrutiny, she gave
Mercy a warm smile. Whatever evaluation she had performed, Mercy had passed.
The male looked as if he could be Eddie’s brother. Young, hair too
long, a bit of scruff. He wore jeans and a light jacket.
Jeff made introductions. Carleen Aguirre was the resident agent in
charge from the Portland ATF office, and the man was ATF special agent Neal
Gorman. As they took their seats, Neal frowned at Mercy, studying her in the
same fashion that Carleen had. Mercy returned his stare as Jeff shut the door.
“Nothing said in here leaves this office,” Jeff announced, looking
directly at Eddie and Mercy.
Mercy hid a small spark of irritation; she and Eddie weren’t
gossips. She lifted a brow and gave Jeff her best side-eye, wondering if she
should be offended or immensely curious. She decided on immensely curious and
gave the ATF agents the same deep scrutiny she’d received.
Carleen grinned and leaned forward, resting her arms on the table,
her dark gaze holding Mercy’s. “One of our agents is undercover in a
militia-slash-conspiracy-theorists-slash-illegal-arms-buying group outside of
Ukiah.”
Mercy blinked. “That’s a mouthful.”
“Where’s Ukiah?” asked Eddie.
“About thirty miles south of Pendleton. It’s a tiny town. About
two hundred people,” answered Neal.
Mercy followed a road map in her head. “That’s a good four hours
northeast from here.”
Neal nodded. “Just west of the Umatilla National Forest. If you’re
looking for a good place to escape society, this is it. No one will bug you
here.”
“But clearly something about this extensively labeled group bugged
you enough to embed an agent,” Eddie stated.
“They call their compound America’s Preserve. The group has
approximately forty people living in an abandoned campground,” Carleen told
him. “The camp is the type of place churches rent for retreats. It has several
cabins with bunk beds and a large hall with a kitchen for meetings, but it
hadn’t been used in twenty years until this group took up residence about a
year ago. The property is owned by a Ukiah resident who gave them permission to
move in.” Carleen grimaced. “The ATF doesn’t want to reveal our interest, so no
one has talked to the owner, but the general word in Ukiah is that the group is
repairing the buildings in exchange for living there.”
“And you embedded an agent because of the illegal-arms-buying
aspect,” said Mercy.
Both agents nodded. And didn’t expand.
Mercy waited, but neither Carleen nor Neal jumped in to fill the
silence.
But Eddie did. “What do you need from us?”
Carleen took a deep breath. “We need Mercy. Tomorrow a second
agent was to join our undercover agent and pose as his girlfriend, but she came
down with shingles.” She turned pleading eyes on Mercy.
Sweat started under her arms, and her pulse pounded in her ears.
They want me undercover in an illegal-arms-buying militia?
Last winter she’d gotten uncomfortably close to a budding militia
outside of town and nearly paid for it with her life. It wasn’t something she
cared to do again.
Jeff met her gaze. He knew how dangerous her last experience had
been. His eyes were sympathetic, but he sat silent, allowing the agents to ask.
“Get someone else,” Mercy forced out. “It doesn’t have to be me.”
About the author:
Kendra Elliot has landed on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list multiple times and is the award-winning author of the Bone Secrets and Callahan & McLane series, as well as the Mercy Kilpatrick novels: A Merciful Death, A Merciful Truth, and A Merciful Secret. Kendra is a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award, an International Thriller Writers finalist, and an RT Award finalist. She has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls. She was born, raised, and still lives in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters, but she looks forward to the day she can live in flip-flops. Visit her at www.kendraelliot.com.
Connect with Kendra Elliot:
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Hydrangeas at one of the wineries. They were so big and beautiful!
