Chapter 1

Nichole Brenton glanced over her shoulder, not seeing anything off. Relief slid through her, and she pushed away the weirdness that had settled in her stomach. The last few years had been tough, but that came with the territory. The truth had a way of making people mean. At least the truths she discovered did. Not many people liked her digging into their pasts, where she found not only skeletons but illegal activities that often put them behind bars.

Her work increased after she’d uncovered the depravity of people at that one corporation. Four of the C-suite employees were currently in federal prison, and the rest were on probation. They hated her, along with a bunch of other corporate billionaires, but she didn’t regret one move that she’d made to get where she was professionally.

Breaking the news that the CEO had known about the problems had created a stellar career trajectory for her. She’d turned to work, forsaking relationships because too many men let jealousy rule their egos. She’d learned over time that no man came close to making her feel the pleasure she received from hard work. The lie felt like sandbags on her chest. There’d been one man who’d rocked her world, giving her more than just a good time. He’d touched her deeply, making her soul and body feel things she’d never felt before. That one week they’d spent in each other’s arms had felt more like a lifetime than just seven short days.

She closed her eyes as the helicopter flew toward the medical outpost and thought about how good being with Jesse had felt. The man had filled a space she hadn’t even realized was empty. Every single day since she left the resort, she felt the loss of him. It was better now, but if Jesse had asked her to follow him home, she would have tossed everything in her life just to be with him.

The helicopter bounced in rough air, and the pilot apologized. She shrugged off the turbulence, knowing it could be worse. This assignment, covering the doctors and nurses who risked everything in their relief efforts, deserved more recognition. They were putting their lives on the line just to help people most of the world had deemed disposable.

“We’re about sixty seconds from landing,” the pilot said over the headphones.

She gave him a thumbs up as she checked her gear, making sure nothing had fallen over or spilled out. The pilot would be back in five days, and she would move on to her next assignment. The break she desperately needed would have to wait. Too bad she didn’t have Jesse’s information. Maybe she should look for him. The resources she had access to were mostly used to track down stories, but what would be the harm in sending him a note asking if he remembered her? He might be amenable to arranging a weekend of fun. The second go-round might not be as life-changing as the first, but it would be nice to see him again.

After exiting the helicopter, she didn’t stick around to see where it flew off to. Time was short, and the interviews were important. These people were incredibly busy helping those who had the least. It was an honor that they’d been nice enough to agree to an interview in the first place. Maybe a well-written article could grant them more funding in one way or another.

The introductions had gone better than she’d expected. Because her reputation preceded her, the doctors and nurses accepted her being on their turf. Sure, she had to scrub in and talk to a few of them while they were operating, but that was the access she craved. She’d even had to hold clamps during one of the operations. It had felt amazing helping to keep someone alive who would have died if the medical facility wasn’t located here next to a war zone.

Hours later, she hadn’t come down off the high of being a part of something bigger than herself. She’d spent an hour finding Jesse’s email address, which she could have waited to look for, but after saving a life, she’d felt so amazing she needed to get in contact with him.

Even now, as she sat staring at the email intended for Jesse, she couldn’t get the day’s events out of her mind. Being here, seeing the work these doctors were doing, made her feel alive like she’d felt with Jesse.

Nichole tapped her chin with her index finger as she reread the email. “The question is, will you respond?” The note she’d written wasn’t long and he could choose to ignore her if he wanted, but she’d left the option open for a hot weekend or week if he wasn’t otherwise involved. Her pointer finger hovered over the send button as she contemplated his possible responses. If he turned her down, she would be very sad. Maybe he had a wife and kids by now, but what if he didn’t?

Her hand still hovered as she chewed on her lower lip, contemplating potential outcomes when an explosion rocked the area, making her jump. Shock coursed through her as she ducked down, worry filling her. What had just happened?

It took her a few seconds to gather a breath and get moving. Without giving the screen a second glance, she slammed her computer closed, unsure if she’d sent the email. She stored the computer in her bag as a second explosion shook the ground.

Fear ratcheted up, leaving her afraid of what she couldn’t see. Nichole grabbed her boots and kicked off her flip-flops. Her fingers shook as she tied the laces, worry blasting through her. She grabbed her phone and started typing a text to her editor, telling him what was happening. Shouts filtered through the tent walls, and she knew she didn’t have much time. It sounded like the doctors were being rounded up outside the supply tent where they’d set up her cot.

Gunfire erupted, and she flinched before dropping low and curling into the fetal position. The few words she’d typed in the text field would have to be enough. Her hands shook as she hit send. She prayed someone would do something to save them. Hopefully, the Wi-Fi was still up, and the text would go through.

The door to the supply tent opened, and she was hit by the beam of a flashlight. The person yelled at her, making her flinch. She only understood one word. “Move!”

Of all the stories she’d covered, war was the worst. She’d been shot at before in the streets of New Orleans, had attackers chase her down in Chicago, and been threatened in Los Angeles, but the war coverage scared the heck out of her.

The medical personnel were lined up outside the main tents. One of the doctors, the oldest, had been roughed up enough that blood trickled down the side of his face. The terrorists pulled the doctor out from their lineup and forced him to face a man recording with his cellphone. They wanted him to give a message. When he refused, the assholes didn’t hesitate and shot the doctor.

A scream wrenched from her throat but was quieted quickly as the man turned his gun on the group. Another doctor was plucked from the line and forced to make a statement, his voice shaking with each word.

Nichole tried desperately to remember the words they forced him to say, but fear had her in its clutches, making it hard to concentrate. Her brain couldn’t retain anything other than the thought that she had to stay alive. Maybe no one would come for them, but if she did something to get herself shot, she would never be rescued.