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      The Keepers: Archer

      Rae Rivers

      A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

      www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Contents

       Dedication

       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

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

       CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

       CHAPTER THIRTY

       CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

       CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

       Rae Rivers: About the Author

       About HarperImpulse

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

      To Ryan, who is the hero in my own real-life story, and my beautiful children who were all very tolerant of all the hours I’ve spent writing this book. Thank you, my angels.

      To my dearest friend, Lisa. Running through ideas for this series with you was as much fun as writing it! Thank you for all the laughter, encouragement and input.

      Lastly, thank you to the team at Harper Impulse for saying yes and for believing in my series – and me.

       CHAPTER ONE

      CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK

      She was under a microscope.

      A silly notion, one she’d never admit to anyone. Her logical mind challenged the thought but Sienna Beckham knew – just knew – that she was being watched.

      Sitting on the grass, she scanned the busy park. A casual, fleeting glance, nothing too obvious.

      Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

      Just the normal crowd – different faces than the day before, but normal nonetheless. Joggers, strollers, a few picnics, several ball games – all the same. The warm weather and sunshine had drawn out the nature lovers who appeared reluctant to leave despite the setting sun. The park, once lush and green, had turned a magical shade of orange, yellow, and red, a sign that fall had arrived with fervour.

      Her instincts bristled; her gut clenched.

      Paranoid? Crazy?

      She pushed herself off the grass, drained the last of her water, and tossed the bottle in a nearby bin.

      The sun hovered above the horizon, illuminating the tall buildings around the park in a gentle orange glow. The lake had turned a soft shade of pink. One last lap around the park and she’d make her way home to shower and change before heading out to Terroirs for drinks with two of her colleagues from the bookshop. She hadn’t wanted to go out tonight but it was Saturday, a day they were determined to celebrate.

      She pulled her fiery red hair into a ponytail and set off at a gentle pace. Within moments, she was flying across the park with a feeling of lightness. Jogging always did that to her, but today she felt … different.

      Hell, she’d always felt different, but today she felt strange.

      Her parents?

      The anniversary of her parents’ deaths loomed dangerously around the corner, threatening to jolt her back into a time she’d rather not remember.

      But her uneasiness hinted at something more, something she hadn’t been able to identify all week.

      With a shake of the head, she scolded herself for being so serious, for thinking too much, and concentrated on running with a clear mind.

      She soon lost herself to the fresh air, the warm glow of the fading sunlight,

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