Double Deception (Code Name: Danger, 18, Band 1667) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

As an Air Force officer, Merline Lovelace served at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she combined her love of adventure with a flare for storytelling. She's now produced more than 100 action-packed novels. Over twelve million copies of her works are in print in 30 countries. Named Oklahoma’s Writer of the Year and Female Veteran of the Year, Merline is also a recipient of Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Rita Award.

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Nick Jensen, code–named Lightning, took the call while attending a noisy, exuberant Fourth of July party at the MacLean, Virginia, home of Maggie and Adam Ridgeway. One of Washington, D.C.'s, true power couples, the Ridgeways were on a first–name basis with presidents and prime ministers, ambassadors and news anchors. They also sat on the boards of a half dozen charities that administered to the desperate needs of millions around the world.

The guest list at this particular party, however, didn't include the rich and famous. Instead, they'd limited it to the members of a small, very elite organization and their families. Nick's wife and twin boys formed one of the boisterous teams tossing water darts in the shallow end of the pool. Maggie and Adam's adopted grandchildren, Young Tau and Mei Lin, had roped their father into anchoring a second team. A very pregnant, very glowing Claire Cantrell Esteban, code name Cyrene, watched their antics from a shaded lawn chair. Maggie and Adam's equally pregnant eldest daughter Gillian kept Claire company.

As his gaze roamed the crowd, a fist seemed to reach into Nick's chest and grab his heart. These people were his life, the family he'd never had. He couldn't imagine a more different world from the one he'd roamed as a skinny, half–starved twelve–year–old. The backstreets of Cannes seemed a thousand light–years away.

As if reading his mind, the woman who'd rescued him from those streets wove through the picnic tables and slipped a hand through the crook of Nick's arm. "Our ranks keep growing, don't they?" Her smiling eyes lingered on the two pregnant women. "Literally and figuratively."

Nick glanced down at the now–retired operative he'd once offered to pimp for. Damned if Maggie Sinclair couldn't still command that kind of highly specialized service. Her brown eyes glowed with the vitality she brought to everything she did and her sparkling personality still made folks sit up and take notice whenever she walked into a room.

"Speaking of our ranks growing…" Nick tipped his chin toward a twosome engaged in a mock duel.

A diminutive, curly haired Xenia, queen of the universe, swung her plastic laser sword. Adam Ridgeway II countered her thrusts with barbecue tongs. As tall and broad–shouldered as his father, Adam had inherited his mother's quicksilver grin and irrepressible sense of humor. He'd earned the nickname Tank on his own. Even as a small child, he exhibited a tendency to charge headlong into any and every situation. A Harvard law degree, a stint as Navy JAG and his current job as an assistant district attorney had tempered that tendency—but not his energy or thirst for new challenges.

He was up for another new direction, one that involved Nick and the woman standing beside him. Bracing himself for her reaction, Nick turned to Maggie.

"You know Tank came to see me yesterday, right?"

Most of Washington's elite recognized him as the President's Special Envoy. The largely honorific position had been created years ago as a reward for wealthy campaign contributors. Only a handful of trusted insiders knew the Special Envoy also served as director of OMEGA, an agency so secret it wouldn't be found on any government organizational chart.

Nick wasn't the only one at the party to carry the dual titles and heavy responsibilities. Both Maggie and her husband had headed OMEGA after spending time as field operatives. Their eldest daughter, Gillian, had also joined the ranks, but the acquisition of a ready–made family during her first op had limited her undercover activities. All three knew firsthand the dangers inherent in those ops, however. So Nick wasn't surprised at the small sigh that preceded Maggie's reply.

"Tank told us he'd talked to you."

"With his training and background, he's a natural." He waited a beat, two. "So will you carve me into bite–size pieces if I welcome him to our ranks?"

"According to Tank, there's no 'if' about it."

The tart response produced a wry grin. "Okay, I admit it. I want him. Unless you or Adam say otherwise, I'd like to have him understudy as controller on the next op."

"It's your decision." Maggie's glance lingered on her son. "And his."

"Then I'll… " A low but very distinctive ping from his cell phone cut him off. "Sorry. I need to take this."

She nodded her understanding. She'd been on the other end of enough calls from the president to understand the urgency. She watched Nick turn away to take the call, saw his shoulders stiffen as he transitioned into full Lightning mode. With a small sigh, she knew he would have to leave the party—and would take her son with him.

Twenty minutes later, Lightning pulled his JAG into his reserved spot in front of an elegant brick town house in the heart of D.C.'s embassy district. He and Tank emerged from the low–slung sports car and mounted the steps to the crimson–painted door with easy strides that belied their tension—Lightning's came from knowing he was about to send one or more of his operatives into the field, Tank's from finally becoming part of the organization that was in his blood.

The elegantly appointed offices of the Special Envoy occupied the town house's first two floors. OMEGA's ultra high–tech Control Center took up the third. Since the downstairs offices were closed in honor of the Fourth of July, Nick and Adam headed straight for the concealed elevator that whisked them up to the Control Center.

The epicenter of OMEGA thrummed with activity. Communications techs monitored message traffic at two consoles on one side of the room. A former CIA analyst peered at satellite imagery on the other. Lightning nodded to them by way of greeting and went directly to the agent manning the center console.

"You know Adam Ridgeway, don't you?"

"Sure do." Clint Black, code–named Blade, thrust out a hand. "How's it going, Tank?"

Blade's greeting was polite enough but he gave his boss a quick, questioning glance. Civilians, even one with this man's background and credentials, weren't normally admitted to the upper sanctum.

Lightning explained the apparent security breach with a brief announcement to the room at large. "Adam—Tank—is joining OMEGA."

After a round of back–slapping and congratulations from the on–duty crew, Lightning took a seat at the console positioned to give full view of the wall–size screens. The screen on the left contained a world map with glowing amber lights denoting the location of active OMEGA agents. Only one light was illuminated at the moment, indicating an agent currently in deep cover. The screen on the right provided the status and locale of operatives not in the field.

Blade used the center screen to update his boss. He'd been busy since Lightning's call less than a half hour ago. A click of a mouse brought up a digitized copy of a driver's license.

"This is Vivian Bauer, age thirty–four, current residence Arlington, Texas. According to the entry she posted on her Facebook page, she's in the process of cleaning out her grandfather's attic following his death last month. The grandfather was Thomas Bauer, eighty–nine, retired high school football coach."

Another image flashed up on the screen, this one of a tired–eyed, stubble–cheeked soldier in a WWII helmet and uniform.

"Bauer served with the 45th Infantry Division in Europe from April 1943, to July 1945. And this—" Blade brought up a third image "—is the item Bauer's granddaughter claims to have found with his...