Mysterious Vows. Cassie Miles

      To Rick, the love I will never regret

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Jason Wakefield Walker the Third—Wounded in a fight for independence, he enters a world of espionage and marries a mail-order bride.

      Maria Ramos Hernandez—On the run from enemies too numerous to count, she hides out as a mail-order bride.

      Juana Sabatta—The author of Truth, a fiery denouncement of international politics.

      Chip Harrington—Though he runs a small-town newspaper, his beat is worldwide.

      Edward Elliot—A state senator from Maine who aspires to higher politics.

      Wally Babcock—The small-town reverend makes connections all over the globe.

      Carrie Kelly—When she translates the works of Juana Sabatta, she is drawn into a web of espionage.

      Alice Walker—After she organizes her brother, she is ready to take on the world.

      Harvey Epsom—The publisher who dares to insult the establishment.

      Mysterious Vows

      Cassie Miles

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Contents

       Prologue

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

      Prologue

      Helpless. Unable to move. Her body felt limp. Arms and legs, heavy as sandbags. Her eyelids opened, barely a slit. Beneath her cheek she felt the smooth tile that lined the edge of the swimming pool.

      The men were still here. Though she was unable to distinguish words or sentences, she heard their voices. Their harsh whispers echoed in the silent summer night.

      The gaunt man stood over her. The pointed toe of his boot dug into her rib cage and pain radiated through her body in dull waves. She couldn’t escape from him...could not move.

      He nudged her again with his toe. Stop it, she wanted to cry. Leave me alone! But her voice was paralyzed.

      He shoved at her body. Did he still have the knife? Did his dirty fingers still hold the syringe?

      His hands were on her shoulder. The stench of him disgusted her. He rolled her onto her back and her long black hair tangled across her face. She was on her back at the very edge of the pool. If he pushed her into the water, what could she do? She was too weak to swim. She struggled to move, to fight back, but her muscles would not respond. Helpless! Unable to speak, unable to move. Her vision blurred. She saw her own right hand, weighted by an unfamiliar gold ring, reaching toward safety, trying to grasp...

      Then she was falling. Down through the cold, she plummeted. Dead weight. The water consumed her as she fell, soaked her Levi’s and her T-shirt. She lost all sense of direction. Which was up, which way was down? The pool was dark, so dark. And cold. Shock trembled through her.

      Can’t breathe. Frantically she flung out with her arms. Had they even moved? My God, was she going to die? A scream boiled up in her throat. No! If she opened her mouth, the water would pour down her throat to her lungs. Suffocating.

      The cold roused panic, and she kicked. Her toe scraped the concrete bottom of the pool. Push, dammit, push off.

      Her legs curled beneath her, and she thrust with all her might. She ascended, but so slowly. Her lungs ached. Her heart pulsed arrhythmically.

      In a gush of relief, she broke the surface. Blessed oxygen flowed into her mouth. A breath, she gasped just one breath, before she was again exhausted.

      One breath would be enough. One breath at a time, she would survive.

      The liquid cold splashed around her in weak ripples, freezing her arms and legs until she floated motionless in the gelid darkness. With great effort, she turned her head to the side and sucked down a mouthful of air. Then another. Each breath was a desperate struggle.

      Though she fought the exhausting paralysis, the cold penetrated to the marrow of her bones. And she felt death approaching. Muerte. Death. Softly, gently, the angel of death glided toward her, dancing on the shimmering blue water, coming for her.

      It would be easy to give up. To accept death.

       No!

      Her body felt heavy as stone, yet she did not sink to the bottom of the pool. Though weak, she was still breathing. It was not her time to die. There were important tasks. Clinging to that hope, she kicked and her legs responded. Her head jerked back, and she began a slow and clumsy dog paddle.

      The night was utterly silent.

      The men were gone.

      In dim moonlight she saw the edge of the pool and the metal ladder, less than five feet away. Beyond that was the chain-link fence and the locked gate that the men had broken.

      Only five feet to the ladder. She forced her arms and legs, weighted by clothing, to stroke through the thick, dark liquid. Farther than a marathon. Impossibly far...but her hand grasped the ladder. Her fingers were weak, unable to hold. If she sank again, she would never find the strength to hold on. A sob racked her body. She couldn’t give up. Not yet. She pulled herself up. Every muscle in her body strained.

      Night air blasted her face. Shivering, she lurched toward safety, dragging her body halfway out of the pool. Her legs were leaden. She could not feel her feet. Fighting desperately, she clawed her way to safety. Her teeth chattered, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

      But