Free THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) by Marliss Melton Page B

lived? Why not? He could have had her followed after work by some crony he had contacted. And if he could do that, he could certainly have orchestrated this kind of havoc. “Malakas,” she cursed, gnawing on a manicured fingernail .
    What now? Calling authorities was out of the question. The last thing she wanted was for the local sheriff to poke his nose into her business. All she could do was ignore the fear that his death threat evoked and confront Abdul upon his return .
    How dared he steal her work and threaten her life in such an ugly fashion! The man was nothing but a thug. And going to such extremes suggested he was trying to protect a secret even bigger than she’d imagined .
    Unfortunately, if he didn’t already suspect she was a journalist, he would know she worked for Crime and Liberty by the contents of her hard drive. And if he told Rupert Davis she was an undercover journalist, Davis would never let his guard down long enough to say something incriminating.
    She would have to cut a deal with Abdul, promising that she would ignore him from now on if he would keep mum about her occupation. Of course she wouldn’t really ignore him. How could she, after what he’d done?
    A sudden, consoling thought had her reaching for the smooth green stone at her throat. She still had her pendant; she was still in business.
    Abdul might have put a dent in her intentions, but as long as he didn’t tell Davis his suspicions, she could complete her objective with the tools she had. If she ran out of storage space in her mini-camcorder, she could offload her files onto the computer in Artie’s storeroom.
    The note lying on the floor caught her eye, rekindling her outrage .  
    Like hell she’d go home. Abdul Ibn Wasi was hiding something big, or he wouldn’t be so driven to get rid of her. She might be busy wrangling a murder confession out of Davis , but she knew a good story when she smelled one.
     
    **
       
    Now, this is the life.
    Jackson closed his eyes and sank deeper into the lounge chair. The heat of the morning sun warmed his bare limbs and the backs of his eyelids, but the briny breeze wafting off the Patuxent River kept him cool .
    Over the sound of waves lapping at the sand by his feet, he discerned the call of a white heron echoing from the other side of the tree-lined river. Nearer by, Naomi flipped like a fish as she dove with goggles to scan the river bottom for treasures. Silvia had gone inside to whip up lunch. How long had it been since he’d taken a vacation?
    Oh, yes. Four years ago, he’d taken Colleen and Naomi to Myrtle Beach , only to rent a car so he could drive back to work early. A vision of Colleen’s red face and watering eyes as she watched him pull away shackled him with belated guilt. He’d tried persuading her that he hadn’t had a choice. His battalion chief had contracted the flu and he had to stand in for him. Or had he actually volunteered to return? Either way, he’d expected Colleen to understand, to console herself with the satisfaction of having made sacrifices for her country.
    Only, she never seemed to get that. In her eyes, Jackson ’s commitment to the Corps was a direct snub against his family. The days he’d missed with them were days he would never be able to get back. Strange, but with the benefit of hindsight and maturity, Jackson realized she’d been right all along. How could it have taken him years, on top of his wife’s senseless death—a death he had contributed to because of his workaholic lifestyle—to come to his senses?
    In one summer, his daughter had gone from a child to a woman, and he’d missed it, right along with all the months and years he would never get back because he’d been overseas. Yesterday he’d realized his daughter was practically a woman. And with Colleen dead, the only women left in Naomi’s life who could arm her with wisdom and encouragement were her two grandmothers. One was already a constant in her life; the other she saw