LITMIR.BIZ

      Dear Reader,

      Who doesn’t love to travel! Holland is one of my favorite places to vacation. The best I could do this year was to go there vicariously through my hero and heroine and demand a lengthy trip report. It’s a wonderful country full of lovely sights and friendly people. I highly recommend it.

      Where do the book ideas come from? All over the place this time. I chose the locations. Research into terrorism in the Netherlands and an abnormal psych book gave me the villains. My granddaughter, who was eager to get me away from the computer to play, suggested “a kidnapping with a really mean bad guy and lots of love stuff since it is a romance.” (Thanks, hon, you might have a future in this business.)

      I love writing about strong women who can take care of themselves. I love overprotective heroes, bless their great big macho hearts. And I really love it when the two claim each other against their better judgment and the rules of the game.

      Go romance!

      Lyn Stone

      Claimed by the Secret Agent

      Lyn Stone

      MILLS & BOON

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      LYN STONE

      is a former artist who developed an early and avid interest in criminology while helping her husband study for his degree. His subsequent career in counterintelligence and contacts in the field provided a built-in source for research in writing suspense. Their long and happy marriage provided firsthand knowledge of happily-ever-afters.

      This book is dedicated to Rebecca Renae Clair.

      Thank you so much for your time and

       very helpful suggestions.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Prologue

      McLean, Virginia—July 11

      “The Embassy Kidnapper struck another consulate yesterday, but he grabbed the wrong Yank this time,” Jack Mercier declared. “Marie Beauclair is CIA, working out of the consulate in Munich as a translator.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “The Company won’t be sending anyone after her.”

      “Why not? She wouldn’t be marked as one of theirs just because they rescued her,” Grant Tyndal asked.

      Mercier was going to send him after the woman. Made sense. Though he worked for COMPASS now, his six years with a navy SEAL team had given him the most experience in hostage extractions. This mission would almost feel like a personal quest, with its similarities to one that had happened when he was a kid. Kidnapping, Germany, young blond victim, family and authorities passing off the responsibility for getting her back. Then, he had been powerless to do anything.

      “CIA turned it over to us,” Mercier said, interrupting his thoughts. “We have a better chance of stopping these abductions than the Company does, especially if we get Beauclair back alive. Mainly we’re doing it because I want her,” Mercier stated.

      Grant pursed his lips and stifled any further questions. Mercier had a wife, a gorgeous woman with a medical degree and a mesmerizing French accent. What? Was he crazy?

      “Not personally,” the boss said with a roll of his eyes. “I had requested her transfer to us. Beauclair has a photographic memory and is a wizard with languages. The consul General sent us her file and suggested she was being underused where she was. She’ll be a valuable asset to COMPASS.”

      True. All his fellow agents had their special little gifts. His particular gig was psychometry. He might get a sense of what the young woman had been feeling or thinking if he could hold something she had owned, but that sense wouldn’t help him find her if she hadn’t known where she was going when she’d been taken. “Does she have a locator implant?”

      Mercier nodded and nudged a folder across the desk. “Here are her coordinates. The jet’s waiting, and there will be a car available as soon as you land. Get her out and keep it as quiet as possible.”

      “And after the extraction?” Grant asked as he lifted the folder and glanced at the photo of the agent. Who smiled that way for an I.D. badge photo? And who ever looked that good in one? He knew how deceiving appearances could be. If she’d made it through CIA training, she was no lightweight, either in smarts or capability. She was twenty-eight and looked eighteen. On purpose, he’d bet.

      “First, get her to safety. Then I want you to go after this guy before he snatches somebody else. We should have been called in on this sooner. Beauclair is victim number five. We think he’s using the ransoms to help fund his jihad. Or maybe this is his jihad. Find out if he’s working alone or in concert with some group.”

      All the U.S. embassies and consulates were made aware of the kidnappings three weeks ago, since the perp had been skipping all over the globe. If his victim was ransomed, he’d dump her, tied up naked and helpless, in a public park where she would soon be found alive after the money was delivered. The last vic had been tortured and killed when the ransom was denied. “So this one can’t be ransomed.”

      “Not officially. You know U.S. policy about dealing with terrorists. And her family doesn’t have the money or any assets to convert.”

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