Relentless (Sinister Secrets Book 3) Read online

  Relentless

  Candle Sutton

  Text copyright © 2021 Candle Sutton

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogue, incidents, and locations are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to events, places, or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or other – without written permission from the author.

  Cover art courtesy of Hannah Linder Designs. https://hannahlinderdesigns.com/

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Epilogue

  Free ebook giveaway!

  Dedication & acknowledgements

  A note from the author

  Excerpt from Midnight Shadow

  One

  Also Available by Candle Sutton

  Prologue

  Click.

  Jon Rand’s steps stalled. He’d know that sound anywhere.

  A switchblade.

  He put an arm in front of his wife Elizabeth and surveyed the darkened parking lot.

  No sign of any hostiles.

  Didn’t mean someone wasn’t there.

  Light spilled out of the restaurant behind them, casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

  A muffled cry came from the alley a few feet away.

  He turned to Elizabeth, holding her wide eyes with his own. “Go inside. Call 911.”

  Fingers gripped his arm. “Come with me.”

  He shook his head. Someone was in trouble. He couldn’t walk away from that. His training wouldn’t let him. “Don’t come out until the police arrive.”

  After a second’s hesitation, she scurried back toward the safety of the restaurant.

  He waited until the door closed behind her before pulling his Ruger and sliding toward the alley.

  Scuffling. A grunt. A muted whimper.

  He slowed his breathing. Each sense heightened. The salty air tasted saltier. The traffic two blocks over seemed louder. The weapon in his hand felt heavier.

  At the corner, he eased around.

  A man, dressed in black, had a woman pinned between a dumpster and the brick wall.

  She whimpered.

  Not a romantic tryst.

  He whipped around the corner. “Let her go.”

  The man jerked, freezing at the sight of the gun pointed at his head. For a second, no one moved. Then the man yanked the woman in front of him. “I’ll slit her throat!”

  “I’ll put you down first. Now let her go.”

  The man stared at him for a second, before slowly releasing the woman.

  Sobbing, she raced toward him. Her dress was ripped, her hair disheveled. “Thank you, thank you!”

  Jon didn’t remove his eyes from the target. “Turn around and put your hands against the building. The cops–”

  Pain exploded in the back of his head. Light pinpricked his vision.

  Another burst of pain.

  A dark figure loomed in front of him as blackness invaded.

  One

  Smoke burned his nostrils. The constant rat-a-tat-tat of automatic gunfire battered his eardrums. Gunfire illuminated the black night with sparks of orange.

  Dakarai Lakes held his weapon steady, laying down heavy cover fire for the team of SEALs navigating across the lawn.

  Just a little further.

  Bullets slammed into the shield in front of him, thudded into the boat beneath him.

  In his peripheral, he saw a SEAL go down. Then another.

  Then the ambassador.

  A dark shape appeared beside him and swung a machine gun around.

  Dak jerked awake, a cry lodged in his chest. Sheets clung to his body and his bedroom felt hotter than South Africa in February.

  His head throbbed.

  He swung his legs out of bed and cradled his head in his hands, forcing his breathing to even out.

  In five days, it would be exactly ten years since the mission that changed his life.

  A glance at the clock showed it was only four a.m., but there was no way he would get any more sleep.

  He pushed up from the mattress and headed for the shower.

  As the water purged the sweat from his skin, memories pounded him, stronger than ever.

  The fear. The anguish. The second-guessing.

  The accusations.

  His hands fisted at the memory of Winters blaming him. The investigation had quickly exonerated him, but he’d always felt like doubts lingered in the minds of the SEALs involved, as well as all those who hadn’t been there.

  It had been the beginning of the end of his career as a Navy Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman. The SWCC had been his life. He’d fought hard to get there and in one instant, everything had been ripped away.

  Forgiving Winters had taken years. Even now, the anger surged through him like fire.

  God, help me.

  He let the prayers invade his mind, focusing on the God who knew the truth, the God who had used that incident to lead him here.

  Why the memories were so vivid today he wasn’t certain. Maybe it was the approaching anniversary. Maybe it was exacerbated by his upcoming breakfast meeting with Cap. Whatever the cause, he couldn’t do this alone.

  He’d spend some extra time in prayer this morning so he was ready for the day. And whatever it might bring.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “Cap.” Dak clapped Harley Green on the shoulder as he rounded the table. Even after all these years, the nickname stuck. “On time, on target...”

  “Never quit.” Harley finished the SWCC motto as he rose and clasped Dak’s hand.

  “Good to see you, man.”

  Harley’s bushy white eyebrows lifted. “You, too, Dak. You got no idea how much I look forward to this.”

  “Probably almost as much as I do.” Ever since Harley retired from the Navy three years ago and moved back to Seattle, the two of them had a standing breakfast meeting the first Monday of every month.

  Harley’s gray eyes, sharp as ever, studied his face. “Don’t the FBI let you sleep?”

  “They’re a softer taskmaster than the SWCC, let me tell you.”

  Harley snorted. “We don’t
train ‘em to be soft. You know that.”

  Boy did he ever. SWCC bootcamp had nearly killed him.

  Or so it had felt at the time.

  In spite of it being only six-thirty a.m., the waterfront diner bustled around them.

  Dak glanced around briefly. No one sat too close.

  Still, he leaned in slightly. “It’s not the bureau that has me losing sleep.”

  A shadow crossed Harley’s face and his eyes hardened. “The date ain’t lost on me, neither.”

  While Harley hadn’t actually admitted to being haunted by the mission, something about his tone told Dak they both struggled. “It shouldn’t have gone down like that.”

  “Not disagreein’ with you, but things happen. You know that well as I do.” Harley rubbed his scruffy beard, something he’d really embraced after leaving the Navy. “Wish you hadn’t let ‘im run you off, though.”

  “Once those kinds of accusations are out there…” Dak lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “I would’ve always been trying to prove myself.”

  “Not to me. Or the rest of our team.”

  A waitress came over to take their order, disrupting the somber conversation.

  Good. He was done talking about it anyway.

  The past was the past. Nothing that could be done about it now.

  As the waitress walked away, Dak shifted the conversation. “Where are you sailing today?”

  “Got a private charter to B.C.”

  British Columbia, huh? “Charting in International Waters?”

  Harley guffawed. “Least this time there won’t be bullets flyin’.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  The sea was in Harley’s blood. Once he’d gotten out of the Navy, he’d used some of the money he’d saved over the years to buy a boat. Now, he ran a private charter service.

  “Got whale-watchers lined up for the rest of the week, but that oughta be windin’ down pretty soon.”

  October marked the end of the whale-watching season. “You and Jean headed south again this winter?”

  “Better believe it. Got a new grandson to see.”

  A gleam entered Harley’s eyes, a sure sign Dak wasn’t going to like what was coming.

  “So when’re you gonna find your own Jean?”

  Yeah, he could’ve guessed that’s where Harley was going. “Soon as God brings her along, my friend.”

  The waitress dropped off their coffees and Harley dumped half the pitcher of creamer in his. “You really telling me there’s no one at your church or work that’s caught your eye?”

  “Nope.” Kevyn’s face flashed through his mind, but he pushed it back. She didn’t count.

  Couldn’t, not as long as she was on his team.

  Not that he hadn’t thought about it, especially now that she was a believer.

  “Maybe you oughta jump on one of those dating sites, then.”

  Dak shook his head. “Bad idea. I’d want to run background checks on everyone.”

  Harley chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “God’s got this. I trust Him to work it out.”

  Harley crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Well, maybe you oughta remind God that you ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

  “I’m not exactly over the hill.”

  “Yet. Isn’t the big 4-0 next year?”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” Dak sipped his coffee. Somehow he’d thought he’d have more to show for his life by the time he hit forty. Heck, he didn’t even have a pet. No one to notice or care if he failed to come home some night.

  He fought back the morose thoughts.

  He had his team. His parents and brothers. Still, it wasn’t the same as a family of his own.

  Enough. When he was sleep-deprived was hardly the time to get philosophical. “So tell me more about your winter travel plans.”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Always good to see ol’ Dak. Even if that kid did need to stop working so much and focus on his personal life.

  Harley strode down the dock toward his vessel, a bag of ice in one hand, a bakery container of pastries in the other, and nodded at Captain Ray as the younger man guided that flashy fishing boat of his out of the slip.

  The sun warmed his back against the cool fall morning.

  Good day for a long boat trip. It’d been a while since he’d been to B.C., but he had all the necessary paperwork ready for review. The clients wanted to spend a few hours across the border, so he’d get to spend some time in the city as well.

  And get paid for it to boot.

  All in all, not a bad way to spend a Monday.

  He boarded his boat and turned on the heat in the cabin to burn off the overnight chill.

  Better get a pot of coffee ready. He filled the water tank and dumped some grounds into the reusable filter, then started the machine.

  A thump sounded nearby.

  Were they here already?

  He turned.

  No one on deck.

  “Hello?” He surveyed the area.

  No sign of anyone anywhere.

  He walked toward the gangplank and looked down at the dock.

  Holy smokes!

  A woman sprawled on the rough boards. A small puddle of blood pooled beneath her cheek. A few feet behind her, a wheelchair lay on its side.

  He disembarked and dropped to a knee beside her, his fingers going to her neck.

  A strong pulse thudded back.

  Must’ve hit a bump with that chair and tipped over. Lucky she didn’t fall into the Sound.

  Something stabbed his neck. He slapped at the area, his fingers knocking a syringe to the ground beside him.

  What the…?

  His throat sandpapered.

  He swung behind him, his arm connecting with something solid. A grunt responded.

  Whirling, he faced a man in an FBI jacket.

  ‘Cept the FBI wouldn’t be drugging him, he was darn sure of that.

  Harley stumbled to his feet, bringing his fists up in a defensive stance.

  The man’s features swirled.

  The boards beneath his feet felt about as steady as a canoe in a storm.

  He lunged at the man, who easily sidestepped his blow.

  With his fist still swinging through the air, he tipped forward, landing hard on his knees.

  Something slammed his head.

  The world went dark.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  It was good to be home.

  Kevyn strode down the hallway toward the office she shared with Dak. Steam rose from the two cups of coffee she carried, one for her and one for Dak.

  That two week getaway to Australia had cleared her mind more than she’d thought possible.

  It’d also impressed upon her just how much Australia no longer felt like home.

  For the first time since her mum had died, she had a home. Seattle. It had little to do with the city or her house and everything to do with her team.

  Dak looked up as she entered the office, a broad smile splitting his face. “Hey, welcome back.”

  Depositing one of the coffee cups on his desk, she slid into the chair across from him. “Thanks. It was fun, but I missed being here.”

  She missed seeing her team. Dak especially.

  Not that she could voice such a thing. Too easily misconstrued.

  “How was Straya?”

  She grinned at his use of Aussie slang for Australia. “Good. Weird.”

  One of his black eyebrows jumped.

  “I don’t fit in there anymore.” A pain stabbed her heart as the memories came back. “I was an outsider with my old friends. One of them even said to me that I was more fun before I found religion.”

  Dak winced. “That’s always tough to hear. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Saddened by the distance from her friends, sure, but not sorry to have found Jesus. “I’ve never had so much peace before. I tried to tell them that, but they didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Can you blame
them? Before you chose to follow Jesus, did you want to hear it?”

  “I guess not. I still thought they’d at least hear me out.”

  Hmmm. Dak didn’t quite seem like his usual self.

  In fact, now that she looked closer, she could see the rings beneath his tired-looking eyes.

  “Are you well?”

  His gaze shifted away. “Didn’t sleep great.”

  Part of her wanted to push, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to discuss it. She should respect that. “Well, let me know if you need someone to listen.”

  “Thanks.”

  Just thanks. No offering of more information. “Any big cases come in while I was gone?”

  He shook his head. “The usual. A few missing kids, some human trafficking tips, that sort of thing.”

  It was sad that those things were considered normal in their world. “Well, I’ll get caught up on my email, then focus wherever you need me.”

  While she waited for her computer to boot up, her gaze drifted to Dak.

  Something was definitely burdening him. If it wasn’t a big case, it must be personal.

  Maybe he’d be ready to talk about it later. For now, she had a job to do.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The phone shrilled.

  Dak reached for it.

  “Agent Lakes. SAC Sorenson would like to see you in his office.”

  Dak stilled. The Special Agent in Charge was calling him to his office?

  The dead air on the line indicated that Sorenson’s assistant was awaiting his confirmation.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m on my way.”

  Hanging up the phone, he found Kevyn’s eyes on him. Questions lingered in her unmasked expression.

  “Might be that big case you were asking about. Sorenson’s calling me down.” He rose and came around the desk.

  While Sorenson calling him to his office wasn’t completely unusual, normally it lacked the urgency he’d sensed in the assistant’s tone. What was going on?

  Tension knotted his stomach.

  He mentally ran through the last few weeks. No, nothing that would warrant disciplinary action. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, in fact.