is knee-deep in an assignment that tests the bounds of her new
relationship. It seems eight socialites have gone missing, all
wealthy twenty-somethings with influential parents. No one seems to
care until a former vice president’s daughter disappears.
deportation, an illegal diversion into a private prison, and an
alleged trip to an unwater habitat called Martimus, Cate and her
colleagues must find a way to follow the same path. In other words,
they must enter the right prison, meet the right fixer, wind up on
Martimus, and hopefully return in one piece. And it looks like Cate
is the perfect bait.
Hazelton. He intends to protect her until death ‘til do they part.
interfered in one too many Agency operations. Tillie Henderson owes
them and they are all too willing to serve her up on a plate. It’s
race against time as the Agency attempts to lure their adversary out
of hiding and into their somewhat ambiguous trap. Maybe then Cate can
finally focus on love.
tender age of twenty-two, Hope Ali has finally joined the
organization of her dreams, the Agency, an elite group of attorneys
who go undercover to right wrongs the law can’t. The requirements
are stringent, the training exhausting.
in the United States when she was sixteen, Hope and her father,
Sheikh Harun Ali, settled in a quiet Wisconsin town, hiding from
those who had placed a price on their heads. Still, she excelled,
finishing her university and law school education by the time she was
program, Hope appears to be indestructible—until she is assigned a
simple task during the rescue of an author among the disappeared in
the UAE. The task? To distract the woman’s captors until she can be
spirited out of the country.
has other plans. In an attempt to disrupt the Agency’s mission, she
tips off one of Hope’s enemies, alerting them to her location. Hope
manages to lead the author’s captors on a merry dance, freeing
others to rescue her, until she is unexpectedly confronted with a
violent angry mob intent on harm.
broken. No one knows whether Hope’s body or her mind will heal.
Suddenly Hope is no longer just her name. It is also the one thing
she must embrace to find her new normal.
notorious cult, God’s Delight, is the primary suspect. God’s
Delight has been hosting shows featuring sex, drugs, and rock and
roll around the country, and young people are flocking to them.
When he asks Agent Cade Matthews, a member of a secret covert
organization, to find her, the mission appears fairly
straightforward. Find the God’s Delight compound, determine whether
a welfare check on American cult members is warranted, and get out.
Simple. Clean. Easy.
University of Wisconsin to follow the trail to God’s Delight, but
when they wind up in Bolivia, things go sideways. Suddenly, what
appeared to be nothing more than a simple in-and-out could cost
Dianna her life. When an Agency extraction is ordered, chaos erupts,
and the question becomes, will anyone survive?
and warned of a frightening plot against the United States, he and
his wife, Marianne Benson, enlist the assistance of their neighbors,
covert agent Cade Matthews and his wife, Constitutional Law Professor
Janet MacLachlan. Ultimately, these feisty lawyers are pushed to the
wall, desperate to find a plane that has been buried in an unknown
cornfield, the passengers still on board. The terrorists’ hatred
for the Alis is absolute—the Alis once left their organization
bankrupt and broken—but they hate America more. And their fiendish
games are just beginning. They are seeking a much bigger prize—one
that could destroy a nation and possibly the world. An act that will
live in infamy.
her roommate, there is no real evidence that she has been snatched.
Until Law Professor Janet MacLachlan, a former covert agent,
discovers a single clue, one that points to a taking by a slave
trafficking cartel. In a race against time, Janet recruits her
husband, secret agent Cade Matthews, small-town Police Chief David
Manders and his wife, criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant,
and other law students to uncover the truth. Can they prove she has
been taken, before Dianna disappears without a trace?
Tom cocked an eyebrow. “Warren, you’re a former Navy Seal. Isn’t there some sort of limit on the amount of time you can spend under the sea before it starts to seriously impair your health?”
Warren frowned. “Usually two weeks. After that, the lack of exposure to the sun and the constant high pressure oxygenated environment would begin to take a toll. There’s also a psychological impact. Think sensory deprivation. Your senses are out of whack because you’ve been dumped into a soundproof sponge. There is no normal sensory stimulation. No sunlight, no sound… Even taste and smell become compromised. Coming back to the real world would be an adjustment.
“In addition, those underwater stations are small. People are right on top of each other. Things we take for granted, like privacy, hot showers, home cooked meals, are in short supply. That can create anxiety, depression, and stress. No way he served that sentence consecutively. He had to take a break in between.”
Warren gazed at Tom. “That environment is more hostile than a prison. You may not be in danger from other inmates, but you are putting your life at risk. Three months sounds like way too much time to be stuck underwater though, especially if you’re not leaving the station for deep sea diving on a regular basis. They must be breaking up the time somehow, otherwise they’d have a pretty tough situation on their hands. A lot of contract workers would be headed to a rubber room. It would be extremely difficult to survive a month, much less three, down there.”
“Could they be treating the inmates like guinea pigs?” Hope asked. “Testing their limits? Tracking actual survival rates?”
Warren sighed. “Possibly. It’s not like they have to answer to anyone. They are located in international waters. No country in particular has legal oversight. I imagine they could be doing anything they want without recourse. Unfortunately, when the prospect of a reduced sentence is dangled in front of some people, they grab it, damn the consequences. If one or two inmates suffer some sort of harm or die along the way, they chalk it up to collateral damage.”
“And who’s going to know?” Cate shook her head. “Someone dies, they probably flush them down a chute into the deep sea and they become shark chum. No evidence left behind.”
Hope cringed. “God, that’s kind of evil. But that still doesn’t answer our original question. Where the hell is Fuzzy? Has he already served out his sentence? Has he been released, and if he has, where the hell is he? He’s the one we need to find. He could have a lot of the answers.”
“That lack of governmental oversight is troubling,” Tom said. “If Cassie McIntyre is down there, I can’t believe the CIA isn’t all over it. At least, our government should be doing a welfare check through the Red Cross or something.”
Warren grimaced. “Unless no one knows she is down there. Think about it. They are on the bottom of the ocean, more than two miles under the sea. It’s not like you can just go down there and knock on the door. Any regular monitoring would be impossible.”
Cate nodded. “And we haven’t been able to confirm that she embarked on the same path as Fuzzy. All we’ve got are suspicions. Right now, she’s missing. We need to sit down with her family and get more information. And we need to find other prisoners who contracted with Martimus.
“Otherwise, we’ve got nothing.”
Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen! In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The White House Wedding, and The President’s Daughter.
Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
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