Threshold of Danger (A Guardian Time Travel Novel Book 1) Read online

  Rage billowed up hot and heavy in Haley's veins. "You killed my mom?"

  "No." She shook her head. "Cancer took care of that for me. But you two were left. You were supposed to die in the assault, Haley. You were never supposed to survive—Jeff messed that up. And thanks to Theo, you survived. You were drunk much of the time so it didn't matter. That left only Sam."

  Sam who would never stray from her family. Sam who would put herself in front of a bullet. Sam who would never stop fighting.

  "I'm just another stumbling drunk. If you want me dead, you could've done it and no one would've questioned it."

  "Sam would've." Jeff pressed the knife into her skin, another hint of warmth running down her neck. "I figured that out pretty quick when we were married. She would always take your miserable side. We're done talking. The gun, Simon. Now."

  Simon removed the gun from his holster. "This isn't worth losing your career over, man."

  "Nothing sudden." Jeff gripped her tighter. Cut off the air in her diaphragm, the meaning in his words clear. He'd cut through her neck with little thought. To him she was the stumbling drunk not worth a second thought. The person who'd stood between him and Sam.

  Simon lifted the gun to his temple. "It's okay. Do what you do, Haley."

  This was far from okay. "No."

  She wasn't leaving them all to figure this out. Wasn't going to run and have Jeff or Lucinda follow her—for the first time in a really long time she was going to stay. Fight.

  Her eyes hit Sam's. "Where am I?"

  Sam opened her mouth.

  Lucinda raised her gun toward the ceiling and fired it. Bits of the white material rained down around them. "You think your little game will help?"

  "It always did." The Colonel's firm voice came from the hallway. The gun in his hand was centered on Lucinda as he moved into sight. He wore a Kevlar vest, placing himself between Lucinda and Sam. "Lower the gun to the ground. Slowly. Hands above your head and I might not blow your brains across this room."

  His gray gaze flicked to Haley for half a second.

  The message inside them clear.

  Do what you do. My count.

  And then the front door opened and several men in black vests moved through the room. "Freeze. FBI. Weapons down."

  "Now, Haley." The Colonel's voice echoed in her mind as she slung herself forward a couple of seconds. Out of Jeff's hold. To the unforgiving marble flooring at Sam's feet. Her sister crashed down next to her, her still-bound hands going to Haley's neck. And then Elliot was beside her.

  Simon charged toward Jeff and had him pinned against the wall, the knife clanging to the ground. Lucinda swung the gun around—toward them—but never got the chance to fire as a shot rang off from the agent standing in the hallway.

  Lucinda's body jerked. Blood spurted out from her back as the bullet exited. A center mass shot. Her face was frozen in shock as the gun dropped from her fingers and fell to the ground. Her body followed suit in a resounding thump that had her head bouncing against the tile. Her sightless hazel eyes were locked on Haley.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  One month later

  THE TRIAL HAD been over for an entire day and Haley still had the jittery sense that she was up on that stand, all eyes on her in a way she'd always and never hoped for all at once.

  A part of her expose had somehow reached the media and there had been a frenzy afterward. There'd been TV and movie offers, job offers, and People magazine had even wanted her to come write for one of their columns. The Channel 24 manager had even contacted her about reviewing a long-term contract.

  But she couldn't. Not yet. Maybe never.

  There was only a few sentences she needed to write on the actual expose, but they were jammed up in her brain and mixed with the events of the last couple of years.

  A knock sounded on the door to the room Sam had given her in her home. Soon—next week—she'd move into a small apartment and stop being under her sister's feet all the time and vice versa.

  Haley saved her progress and looked up to find Simon across the threshold in a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt. His hands were in his pockets, the edge of his tattoo peeking out from the sleeve. If she didn't count the trial and a visit to her hospital room, which had been cut short by Sam, Elliot, the Colonel, and Vi, she hadn't seen him since the night of the incident.

  Since Claudia had made a full recovery, Anne had come home, and Theo had, once again, disappeared. Since they'd learned that Harper Valencourt had been coerced—blackmailed by Jeff—into admitting to Claudia's murder and taking his own life.

  Since then, Haley had been busy with recovering, managing her sister's need to hover, the Colonel's frequent visits, and fielding Elliot's constant questions about the past—all while putting it into words in a way that wouldn't have the world questioning the deeper aspect of this story.

  That was why she couldn't polish it off. Why she'd wanted a drink so badly yesterday, she'd actually bought an O'Doul's non-alcoholic beer and had a sip prior to the trial. It had tasted like crap and she'd abandoned it after three sips.

  Being in the limelight with other people's lives—their stories—didn't bother her. Being under scrutiny with her own was agonizing.

  Maybe this was a story she didn't need to tell. It was just one she needed to see through. Type out. Live.

  Simon shifted. "Sam said you were up here."

  She'd considered calling him—when she'd been released from the hospital with explicit instructions to rest or she'd put her unborn child in jeopardy, yesterday when she'd bought the beer, this morning when she'd woken up and accidentally interrupted a hot lip-lock between Sam and Elliot—but hadn't. Because what would an upstanding cop—an Air Force veteran—say to a woman with a rap sheet? A pregnant woman about to go into eighteen years that would be devoted to ten fingers and ten toes and maybe some writing in between while she tamed the need to see the world.

  Sure, let's see where this goes...

  No.

  Even friendship would be tedious for him as people questioned his ethics and morals.

  Haley set her laptop aside on the bed and stood. "Sort of hard to hide in someone else's house."

  "You did good yesterday."

  And he'd looked good yesterday. In uniform. On the stand. "Thanks. I heard Elliot's mom and dad have been in town. That you guys have gotten a chance to hang out. Sightsee."

  "Well, Vi had to be in town for the trial. And the sightseeing was a distraction. You should've come."

  "No." She moved toward him. "I needed to stay here. With the Colonel."

  She and her father had sat in an awkward silence for the better part of an hour before he'd said anything. His first words: I didn't cheat on your mother. I loved her very much.

  And she couldn't help it, she'd laughed, because it had never even crossed her mind that he would walk out on them. She'd always thought their love was skewed. That Katherine and Grayson Billings were brought together on accident but they'd stayed that way for Haley and Sam.

  "Enlightening?"

  "Yeah." She stopped in front of him. "It's always an eye-opener when you see your dad—this man who is larger than life and in command—break down and bawl like a baby."

  Which is what they'd both done. Together. Not touching, but together.

  She looked him in the eye. "And it's always eye-opening when an upstanding man puts a gun to his own head in exchange for your miserable waste of a life. Sort of puts everything into perspective."

  His words were soft and sincere when he said, "I'd do it again."

  Dear Reader,

  Once upon a time—wait, that isn't right. Way too fairy-tale like, I get it. Not really my style or yours. Bear with me.

 

  In the year nineteen ninety... Nope, that's not it either.

 

  Back in the day, some time ago, in a place that isn't really relevant to anything, there was a little girl. She was given a diary and told s
he could write anything she wanted inside. The stories were wildly imaginative about things that only a five-year-old knows.

  The girl grew and she had a dream—that was relevant. She was going to be a doctor or a counselor or a writer. Maybe all three. She was going to get married young and have five well-mannered children.

  And then she grew up—like bam—right from fifteen to thirty-five. And she got married and she had a child—not five—just one, well before the age of thirty-five. She spent some time working in the healthcare field and she realized she'd be a terrible counselor and probably an even worse doctor.

  And then she wrote some books. In those books her characters could be anything. Doctors, lawyers, cops, military members, moms, and dads. They could travel in time and get into all kinds of danger. Fall in love. The sky was the limit.

  And now here we are.

  Follow this girl on her journey: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google, Goodreads, Mailing list, Website. Please leave a review wherever you purchased this novel from.

  God Bless,

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe a great debt to my wonderful and talented editor, Lora Doncea at EditsbyLora.com. She puts up with my questions, keeps me on my deadlines, and goes the extra mile. This novel would be nothing without her input.

  I'd like to thank all those who lent their expertise in the healthcare field, law enforcement, and social services. I find I am often out of my element when writing and lean on a fantastic crew of men and women to help me piece my novels together and make them accurate.

  I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention how great my husband and daughter are. There's no way I would be where I am without either of those two. They keep me going and help me take a break. They keep me breathing, on my toes, and they don't mind eating pizza during a deadline.

  There are so many others that helped me in this endeavor. Every kind word, wine night, and brainstorming session was so appreciated.

  Thank you all. I can never repay you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rachel writes novels filled with murder, mayhem, and romance that leave her readers wanting more incredible twists and turns.

  SIDE NOTE: A night-light may be required. Some bleary-eyed mornings have been known to occur. Coffee is recommended.

  Rachel began weaving tales well before she could actually write. Those early stories included danger and mystery, Barbies and G.I. Joes, a few sensational heroes and their villainous counterparts. Sometimes the hero had to time warp through a hole in her backyard to save the damsel in distress and sometimes he only had to outwit the aforementioned villain.

  Nowadays, she leaves the Barbies to her extremely cute daughter (who loves to create her own stories). When she's not riveting readers with the chaotic and sizzling mess of her character's lives, she can be found poolside with her husband, daughter, and two super snuggly dogs. She enjoys football, reading, spending time with her daughter, discussing the NFL draft with her husband, and spending time with friends and family. She also loves anything to do with the FBI, law enforcement, and the military. Although she's extremely knowledgeable about time travel, she has never admitted she's used this technique herself...