Someone has been impersonating software engineer Lucy Sutton to steal classified technology secrets, and it’s up to her to figure out who. National Security Agency employee Jordan Harris is the only person she trusts to help her set a trap. But with an unknown enemy watching Lucy’s every move and threatening her life, capturing the culprit becomes an even deadlier task than they expected.

SHERRI SHACKELFORD is an award-winning author of inspirational books featuring ordinary people discovering extraordinary love. A reformed pessimist, Sherri has a passion for storytelling. Her books are fast paced and heartfelt with a generous dose of humor. She loves to hear from readers at sherri@sherrishackelford.com. Visit her website at sherrishackelford.com.

Also By Sherri Shackelford

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Killer Amnesia

Stolen Secrets

Return to Cowboy Creek

His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

Montana Courtships

Mail-Order Christmas Baby

Prairie Courtships

The Engagement Bargain

The Rancher’s Christmas Proposal

A Family for the Holidays

A Temporary Family

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Stolen Secrets

Sherri Shackelford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90640-5

STOLEN SECRETS

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A great weight pressed into Lucy’s chest, restricting her breathing.

The instant photograph was small, only a few inches square, and the colors were bleached. The two grainy forms in the foreground were barely distinguishable as her and Jordan. Despite the poor quality, there was no mistaking the content. The picture was of the two of them, and had been taken outside her sunroom only moments before.

“I checked the angle. It looks like someone took the picture from your neighbor’s yard. Are you certain you didn’t leave that window open when you left this morning?” Jordan asked.

“Positive.”

Jordan tapped his index finger against the steering wheel. “Whoever planted the listening devices probably left the window open as a bit of insurance for easy access to the house when necessary.”

“Do you think they know we discovered the surveillance?”

“Even if they did, I don’t think they care. They want you to know you’re being monitored. Someone took the picture from the neighboring yard, then slipped it through the open window while we were upstairs. They want you to feel on edge. To feel trapped.”

“It’s working.“

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading Stolen Secrets! For this story, I wanted to explore both the grieving process and how life changes after the death of a loved one. While most of us are familiar with the five stages of grief, we often don’t think about what follows the acceptance phase. Lucy and Jordan were both hesitant to move on with their lives. Because of that uncertainty, they were both stuck.

Together they learned that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting or even letting go of the grief entirely. Instead, they each made the decision to invest their love and emotion in healthy, life-affirming relationships.

I love connecting with readers and would love to hear your thoughts on this story! If you’re interested in learning more about this book—or other books and series I have written—I have more information on my website: sherrishackelford.com. I can also be reached by email at sherri@sherrishackelford.com, and snail mail, PO Box 116, Elkhorn, NE, 68022.

Happy Reading!

Sherri Shackelford

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

—John 14:27

To Tina Radcliffe and Stephanie Dees. Thanks for coming to Nebraska to visit me. The weather is always that nice. Really.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Adjusting his tie, Jordan Harris checked his reflection in the mirrored glass window of the coffee shop. His civilian haircut camouflaged the crescent scar looping around his left ear, and the extra volume of his suit jacket concealed his weapon. Satisfied his appearance was squared away, he pushed open the door.

The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him in a soothing air-conditioned cloud. A half-dozen people were scattered throughout the colorful airy space. Four females, one toddler and three males. Soft perimeter. No credible threats. These days, no place was entirely safe. Not even Omaha, Nebraska.

A woman with white-blond hair sat with her back to the door. A soft breeze ruffled the wavy chin-length strands, revealing vivid blue streaks hidden throughout the layers.

Lucy Sutton.

He stared, mesmerized for a moment, before returning to his senses. Trained in masking his emotions, Jordan worked for the National Security Agency. He was a modern-day spy in a digital world. He was good at his job, but there were times when he felt as though his life was comprised of nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

Lucy turned, and he lifted his hand in greeting. They’d texted. He’d seen her picture plenty of times, and he assumed she’d looked him up on social media. Recognition softened her blue-gray eyes, and she waved him over.

She wore a dark floral-print dress with an enveloping black sweater. By the time he maneuvered through the jumble of mismatched tables and chairs, she’d stood, the top of her head not quite clearing his shoulder. Her expressive storm-colored eyes took up most of the real estate on her pixie face.

“Jordan Harris?” she asked, her voice slightly husky.

“Lucy Sutton, right?” he replied, though he’d have recognized her anywhere.

They exchanged the awkward, cursory greeting of two people who shared nothing beyond a mutual tragedy.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he said.

A little over a year ago, he’d been assigned to an isolated intelligence recon mission overseas along with Lucy’s fiancé, Brandt Gallagher. During the endless hours of monotonous surveillance, Brandt had shared portions of Lucy’s emails to entertain them. Knowing they were far from home and missing the familiar, she’d transformed even the most mundane daily activities into amusing anecdotes.

As the weeks passed, Jordan had looked forward to her witty observations and keen intelligence. Knowing that nothing would ever come of it, he’d even allowed himself to develop a harmless crush on her.

“Nice to see you, too,” she said, her smile warm. “This must be quite a change of pace after being overseas.”

“Not as much as you’d think.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Brandt. I should have spoken to you earlier, but I couldn’t…”

Lucy held up one hand, her eyes welling with tears. “Don’t apologize. They told me you’d been injured.” She studied his face, as though searching for any lingering signs of the explosion that had permanently altered his hairline. “They didn’t tell me how badly, though.”

“Not bad.” He was heartily sick of the traumatic brain injury protocol, and he’d had enough neurological scans to map out his brain ten times over. “Fully recovered.”

“Brandt promised me the job was rarely dangerous.”

“Normally, it’s not. But we work in hostile places, and there’s always a risk.”

“I miss him.” Her throat worked. “You knew him better than I ever did. You knew him longer. With his parents gone, they gave me his flag. It should have gone to—” Her voice broke.

“I miss him, too.” Jordan took her elbow and guided her toward the table. “You were his fiancée. He’d have wanted you to have it.”

She sank onto her chair. “Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said. “I appreciate you meeting me, considering…”

He’d felt a connection to her even though they’d never met in person before today. Maybe it was because he’d had a childhood friend with the same name. Though she was nothing like the kid he’d known in school, hearing the name Lucy Sutton automatically came with a sense of belonging.

“Every day is different, you know?” Lucy’s smile was overly bright and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. “You were a good friend to him, and that means a lot.”

A band of emotion squeezed his chest. She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew the truth of her fiancé’s death. They’d been on the verge of wrapping up their assignment when something—or someone—had blown their cover. A suicide bomber had targeted the hotel where they were conducting their surveillance.

Jordan had survived the blast. Brandt had not. That was all Lucy knew about that day. She didn’t know the suicide bomber had discovered the intelligence equipment Jordan and Brandt had planted earlier. That part was classified.

Her gaze skittered away, and she motioned to a chair. “Sit. Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

Lucy reached for her coffee. Despite the unusually mild spring weather, she clutched the warm cup. He glanced at her hand, and his breath hitched. His carefully prepared speech shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

She followed his gaze. “I should probably stop wearing the engagement ring. It’s sentimental, I suppose, because of, well, you know…”

“You, uh…” He cleared his throat. “You should do whatever feels right to you.”

According to Brandt, his whirlwind courtship with Lucy had prevented him from proposing with a proper ring. Near the end of their assignment, Brandt had produced a box from a shockingly exclusive jeweler in Islamabad who catered to Saudi princes and Russian oligarchs.

The day of the bombing, Brandt had asked him to hold the ring. Jordan had thought it was lost in the blast until they’d returned it to him last month. Some sort of mix-up had occurred, and the ring had been sitting in storage for months. This morning he’d planned on presenting the ring to Lucy along with an apology for the delay, but she was already wearing an identical piece of jewelry.

Why?

Lucy glanced at the sparkling diamond. “We’d only been dating for six months when he learned he was being sent back into the field. He proposed to me the next day.”

“He was a force of nature,” Jordan said. Brandt was outgoing, irreverent and brash. Standing next to him meant standing in the shadows, like comparing a color photo to the negative. “Once he knew what he wanted, he went after it all the way. There was no one else like him.”

“He was relentless, that’s for sure.” She wriggled her fingers, and the diamond facets caught the sunlight streaming through the windows. “The ring was a compromise. Everything happened so fast. We agreed to a long engagement. I figured if our relationship survived his time in Pakistan, we’d have a chance.”

“I’m glad we could meet in person,” Jordan said, searching for a way to justify his presence because there was no obvious explanation for a duplicate ring. “I hope you weren’t too surprised when I contacted you.”

“I couldn’t have been more pleased.” Her tone was earnestly sincere. “Having heard so much about you from Brandt, I was looking forward to finally meeting you in person.”

“He’d read your emails out loud sometimes. Nothing personal, mind you. Just the silly stories. They kept us going.”

“Don’t look so guilty,” she admonished lightly. “Brandt told me. He couldn’t keep a secret even if he wanted to.”

The door swung open, and Lucy whipped around. The toddler he’d seen earlier waved at them with chubby fingers.

Lucy’s shoulders sagged and his attention sharpened. He wasn’t the only person at this meeting who was searching for credible threats.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Everything is fine.” With trembling fingers, she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I’m jumpy. Too much coffee, I guess.”

His immediate concerns took a back seat to more pressing matters. Lucy was probably good at many things.

Lying wasn’t one of them.

He carefully considered his next words. “The National Security Agency is a family,” Jordan prodded gently. “We look out for each other. We take care of each other. You’re a part of that family now.”

“It’s nothing.” Her gaze darted around the room. “It sounds absurd even to me.”

Fear was an emotion he encountered often in his line of work, and Lucy was terrified.

“I deal with the absurd for a living. Try me.”

“Brandt said you were easy to trust.” She rubbed her knuckles against the worry lines creasing her forehead. “When you contacted me last week, it was like an answer to my prayers. I had this idea that if I said everything out loud, I’d see how perfectly ridiculous I’m being.”

Jordan narrowed his gaze. “Then you haven’t spoken with anyone else about what’s on your mind? A friend? A family member?”

“No.” She blinked rapidly. “I can’t.”

He kept his posture relaxed and easy though his thoughts were troubled. While on a previous assignment, he’d been informed that his stepsister was in a serious car accident. She’d been writing about a prolific serial killer when she’d discovered the murderer’s identity. Instead of seeking Jordan’s help, she’d tried to handle the situation on her own—with near-fatal consequences. He didn’t want Lucy to feel the same way.

He wanted her to trust him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Leaning forward, she tipped her coffee before quickly righting the cup. “I think someone is trying to frame me for a security breach at work.”

Jordan blinked.

He’d expected her to confess that she was having financial difficulties or something mundane. “You develop software for drone technology, right?”

“Yes.” She took a shaky sip of her coffee. “Drones are coupled with satellites, and I write code to ensure a secure uplink. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but that’s the simple version.”

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stirred. Overseas, drones did a massive amount of heavy lifting. Any disruption risked the safety of American troops.

“How do you think you’re being framed?” he asked.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me or tell me I’m being paranoid.” She pressed her knuckles against her red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you for taking me seriously. No one else—Never mind. Just…thank you.”

Confessing her worries had released a floodgate of emotion. She was on edge, her distress barely in check. Though he wanted to comfort her, calm was contagious, and if he avoided mirroring her emotions, she was more likely to stay in control.

“Just tell me what happened,” he urged, keeping his tone professional. “And we’ll go from there.”

She took a few deep, fortifying breaths, then nodded.

“There was a data breach in my department while I was on vacation.” She hugged the edges of her sweater together. “Nothing major, but enough to make everyone on the executive floor nervous. I didn’t think much about it until last Thursday. I was working late to catch up when someone on the cleaning crew mentioned that I’d been working after hours a lot. Only I hadn’t been in the office for almost a week.”

“And they were certain it was you?”

“Yes. That’s what caught my attention.” She lifted a strand of her platinum hair. “I don’t exactly blend into a crowd. I might have written it off as a mistake, but the night security guard said something similar.” Casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, she whispered, “I think someone is impersonating me.”

All of that was suspicious but not necessarily proof. “Anything else?”

“A barista at a coffee shop near the building where I work also mentioned seeing me.”

“How well do you know the barista?”

“Not at all. I only stopped there because I was running late that day. It was the first time I’d ever been in that shop.”

Possible explanations buzzed through his head. A doppelgänger was bizarre, yet not necessarily outside the realm of possibilities. Selling classified information was lucrative, but extremely risky for both the buyer and seller. Deflecting the blame created a tactical advantage.

“Have you informed your supervisor?” he asked.

“Informed him of what?” She splayed her hands. “That someone who looks like me parked their car in the lot and entered the building? How do I prove it wasn’t me?”

She had a point. Depending on the clarity of the cameras and how well the impostor resembled her, there might not be a way to tell the difference.

“What do you know about the data breach?” He shifted directions. “What were they after?”

“I don’t know. No one is talking.” She ducked her head. “I think they’re watching me. There’s a chance my phone has been tapped. I even thought a car was following me today. Anything is possible.”

That was an understatement.

She had no idea the sorts of surveillance that were possible these days, even for civilians. “The car you thought was following you—do you know the make and model?”

“A white sedan. Like a Toyota Corolla or something similar.” She snapped her fingers. “There’s something else. I got a couple of weird texts. They didn’t make any sense, so I figured it was a wrong number.”

“Do you still have them?”

“No. I deleted the thread. Like I said, I thought they were a mistake until the other stuff started happening.”

He didn’t believe in coincidences. Nearly a year ago, he’d lost his friend and colleague to a suicide bomber. This morning he’d discovered Brandt, with no apparent logical motivation, had lied to him about an engagement ring. He’d also learned that Lucy was the possible target of a frame-up.

That was one too many odd occurrences for his peace of mind.

“If what you suspect is true,” Jordan began, “and someone is impersonating you to steal information, then you’re at risk. You need protection.”

He’d promised to look out for Lucy if anything ever happened to Brandt, and he’d already failed in that duty. He should have contacted her sooner, but he’d been a coward.

He’d been avoiding this meeting, hoping his feelings had faded. She’d been through enough already. She was vulnerable, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of her. He owed that much to Brandt. Being near her would be punishing; maybe she was the penance he deserved.

“Never mind.” Lucy twisted around, reaching for the voluminous leather tote hanging on the back of her chair. “Forget I said anything. I’m sure it’s all a mistake anyway.”

Jordan absently touched his breast pocket, then decided against saying anything. He didn’t know what the second ring meant, and there was no reason to upset her. Until he knew otherwise, he was dedicated to preserving Brandt’s memory. He’d be loyal in his actions if not his feelings.

“Lucy—”

His next words froze on the tip of his tongue. Through the coffee shop window, he saw a white sedan appear. The unmistakable glint of a gun barrel caught his attention. Jordan’s training kicked into action, and he launched himself over the table to protect Lucy.

At Jordan’s swift movement, Lucy startled. The glass pane at the front of the shop exploded. Time slowed and Jordan caught hold of her. Shards of glass showered over them, clattering to the floor like a hailstorm. He dragged her down, and they both tumbled over her chair. She braced for a painful landing, but he angled his body at the last minute, taking the worst of the blow. The jolt knocked the air from her lungs.

A woman screamed, and a table crashed near Lucy’s head. Someone was shooting at them.

Voices sounded in panic from all directions, and she struggled to make sense of the commotion. Jordan kept her anchored in place, and she instinctively fought the restriction. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, urging her into fight-or-flight mode.

“I need a better vantage point,” he whispered roughly, retrieving a gun from inside his jacket. “Stay down and out of sight. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to move toward the exit.”

A loud bang was followed by a dusty spray of plaster.

Without giving her a chance to protest, Jordan moved away.

When she reached for him, her fingers closed around air.

Several customers cowered behind tables while others crouched in place. Everyone was frozen in terror. She had to think. She’d gone through active shooter training at work. Human Resources had been relentless in drilling the instructions. Run first, hide if necessary, fight back as a last resort.

A dark-haired woman in a bright yellow shirt crouched near the front of the shop, her hands covering her ears. Another pop sounded, and glass rained over the woman’s head. She screamed and rocked back and forth.

Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight.

The words echoed like a mantra through Lucy’s head. Her vision wavered.

Flight.

“Stay low,” Jordan shouted. “Get to the back of the store.”

“This way!” Lucy called to the woman in yellow. She gestured toward the service counter. She’d seen workers entering from the back on numerous occasions. “There’s an exit through the kitchen.”

The woman crawled a few feet, her movements jerky and uncoordinated.

The top pane of the front door burst into a thousand tiny shards. Lucy flattened her body and covered her head. Paralyzed by the terror pumping through her veins, her hands tingled.

“Please, God,” Lucy begged, “give me strength.”

In an attempt to contain her fear, she focused on the woman in yellow. “You’re doing great. Keep going. You’re almost there.”

Their eyes locked, and Lucy saw her own horror mirrored in the woman’s gaze. The reality of their situation nearly undid her, and she fought for control.

“Get to the exit!” Jordan shouted.

“What about you?”

“I’m right behind you.”

She peered cautiously from behind her shelter. He’d positioned himself at the front of the store, his gun drawn. Given Brandt’s praise of him, she had no doubt he’d sacrifice his life to prevent the shooter from coming through that door. He was offering himself as a shield to let them escape.

Another bullet ripped over her head, shattering a picture on the back wall. Lucy screamed. Tears blurred her vision. Though she was reluctant to leave Jordan behind, she didn’t want his sacrifice to be in vain. The woman in yellow had reached the relative safety of the service counter. She had a clear path to the exit.

As Lucy belly-crawled in her wake toward the kitchen, she encountered a man in a suit crouched behind the service counter. He jabbed at his phone, his hands trembling wildly. She navigated through the broken glass, her sweat-slicked palms hindering her progress.

“Go,” she ordered. “Run. Get out.”

A bullet blasted a hole in the back wall. Lucy yelped.

“I don’t want to die.” The man’s eyes were wild and unfocused. He gripped her arm in a painful vise, trapping her in place. “Don’t leave me.”

The stranger’s terror sparked a hidden reserve of strength within Lucy, and a precise sort of clarity took hold of her thoughts. Panicking only exacerbated the situation.

Prying the man’s fingers from her arm, she said, “Stay calm and exit the building.”

The words sounded trite considering the situation, but they worked. She touched his shoulder. The contact was like a spark of lightning, and the man jumped.

“Okay,” he said, then scrambled toward freedom.

His movement lifted the stark paralysis of the four remaining customers, who’d been rooted in place. It was as though someone had given them permission to act. In a crowded scramble, they dashed toward the exit. Lucy followed in an awkward, crouching run. Another shot burst through the menu hanging above the counter. She pivoted and twisted her ankle. The next step was agony and she dropped to her knees.

The hanging lamp above her head exploded, and a white-hot flash of pain burst through her cheek. With a startled shriek, she cringed and curled into a ball. Her fear was so sharp she tasted it on her tongue.

She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

“Please, God. Just a few more minutes,” she prayed. “I just need a few more minutes of strength.”

Mustering every ounce of fortitude to bolster her courage, she searched for Jordan. He’d sacrificed his own safety to let them escape. Where was he? He should be following them since everyone had exited.

The next instant there was silence. Complete, deafening silence. No gunshots. No voices.

Nothing.

The nothing terrified her more than the gunshots.

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