Adirondack Attack Read online

  Isolated in the deep Adirondack wilderness...

  Their mission—escape!

  When Detective Dalton Stevens follows his estranged wife, Erin, to the Adirondack Mountains, neither of them expects to be entrusted with intel that must be shared with Homeland Security. They are forced to begin a harrowing wilderness trek to outrun the terrorists who’ll kill for the secret. Dalton’s real objective—to reconcile with headstrong Erin—happens by chance…when one bullet changes everything.

  “Erin, I’m going to get us out of this.”

  She said nothing.

  “You don’t think we’re going to make it. Do you?”

  “I’ve lost count of the times I thought we were both going to die. Whatever that thing is in that case you are hiding beside the bed, people are willing to kill for it.”

  “You still want me to leave it behind?”

  He held his breath, waiting.

  “No. My party died because of that thing, whatever it is. I’ve decided to see this through.”

  “For a minute I thought you were only willing to jump off trestle bridges after stray dogs.”

  “Jet isn’t a stray. Her owners were murdered, just like my party.” She lifted up on an elbow and stared down at him. Her hair fell across her face, shielding her expression. She stroked his forehead with a thumb.

  “I just want you to stay with me. You know?”

  “Planning on it.” He cradled her jaw in his hand, and she turned to press a kiss against his palm.

  ADIRONDACK ATTACK

  Jenna Kernan

  Jenna Kernan has penned over two dozen novels and received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley in New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan, on Facebook or at jennakernan.com.

  Books by Jenna Kernan

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Protectors at Heart

  Survival Instinct

  Adirondack Attack

  Apache Protectors: Wolf Den

  Surrogate Escape

  Tribal Blood

  Undercover Scout

  Black Rock Guardian

  Apache Protectors: Tribal Thunder

  Turquoise Guardian

  Eagle Warrior

  Firewolf

  The Warrior’s Way

  Apache Protectors

  Shadow Wolf

  Hunter Moon

  Tribal Law

  Native Born

  Harlequin Historical

  Gold Rush Groom

  The Texas Ranger’s Daughter

  Wild West Christmas

  A Family for the Rancher

  Running Wolf

  Harlequin Nocturne

  Dream Stalker

  Ghost Stalker

  Soul Whisperer

  Beauty’s Beast

  The Vampire’s Wolf

  The Shifter’s Choice

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  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Dalton Stevens—NYC undercover detective recovering from a gunshot wound after an attack that killed his partner. His desire to return to active duty has caused his wife to ask for a separation.

  Erin Stevens—Outdoor adventure guide and wife of Dalton Stevens, who wants her husband to leave his dangerous job before it kills him. Barring that, she wants a divorce.

  Oscar Boyle—Erin’s boss at adventure camp.

  Henry Larson—A fellow NYC detective and Dalton’s trusted friend.

  Lawrence Foster—Homeland Security agent.

  Rylee Hockings—Homeland Security agent.

  Kane Tillerman—CIA operative.

  Clint Gabriel—CIA operative.

  Vincent Eulich—Member of the terrorist organization Siming’s Army, a group of unknown strength embedded in New York State.

  This story is dedicated, with love and admiration, to my mother, Margaret C. Hathaway, who drove me to school, swim lessons, summer camp, dance lessons, art lessons, the Adirondack Mountains and the American West. Who could have imagined the world was so big?

  Contents

  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

  Excerpt from Personal Protection by Julie Miller

  Chapter One

  On his first day off in three months, Detective Dalton Stevens shouldered his backpack and set out after his wife. He knew she’d be surprised to see him and possibly furious. She’d tell him that trial separations meant the couple separated. Well, the hell with that.

  His wife, outdoor adventure specialist Erin Stevens, was up here in the Adirondacks somewhere. He had arrived last night, but as it was dark and he didn’t know the location of her guided excursion, he’d had to wait until this morning. That meant she was well ahead of him. It seemed like he’d been chasing after Erin ever since he met her, and the woman knew how to play hard to get. But this time was different. This time he really didn’t think she wanted to be caught. She wanted a separation. In his mind, separation was just code for impending divorce. Well, the hell with that, too.

  Dalton adjusted the straps on his shoulders. He couldn’t use the padded hip strap because it rubbed against his healing stomach wound.

  The group she was leading had already been at it a full day. Normally he could have caught them by now. But nothing was normal since he’d told her he’d been cleared by the department physician to return to active duty.

  “Did you hear anything I said?” she’d asked.

  “I heard you, Erin,” Dalton said to the endless uphill trail. Roots crisscrossed the path, and moss grew on the damp rocks that littered the way. He’d lost his footing twice, and the twisting caused a pain in his middle that made him double over in agony.

  Cleared for duty did not mean cleared for hiking with a fifty-pound pack. It would have been lighter if he’d left the tent, but he knew his wife’s tent was a single. He’d packed one that suited two. Ever hopeful, he thought. Now if he could just get her in there, he was certain the starlight and the fresh air would clear her mind.

  She was always happiest in the outdoors. Erin seemed to glow with health and contentment in this bug-infested, snake-ridden, root-laden wilderness. Meanwhile, he couldn’t tell poison ivy from fern, and the last time he’d carried a pack was in Afghanistan.

  He stopped again to catch his breath, drawing out his mobile phone and finding he still had no service.

  “Nature,” he scoffed. He’d take a neighborhood with a qua
lity pizza joint any day.

  Erin’s boss, and the director of the adult adventure camp, had given him a directions to the trailhead by phone and Dalton had picked up a topographical map. If he was reading this correctly, he should reach their second camping site shortly after they did. Yesterday they had used the kayaks to paddle the Hudson River before stopping for their first camp. This morning they should arrive here to await the scheduled release of water from Lake Abanakee this evening. This area of the Hudson was above the family rafting sites and would be wild running tomorrow, according to the director. The director said he would alert one of the rafting outfits to keep an eye out for him tomorrow, in case he needed a lift downriver.

  Meanwhile, this trail from O-K Slip Road was all rocks and roots, and he seemed to catch his feet on each one. Recovery time from abdominal surgery certainly wasn’t easy, he thought.

  He reached the Hudson Gorge and realized it would be a miracle to find them, even knowing their general stopping point. If they changed the plan and camped on the opposite side, he was out of luck and up the river without a paddle or raft.

  Gradually he left the pine forest and moved through birch and maple as he approached the river. He was relieved to finally come upon their camping site knowing she and her group would not be far.

  Erin had chosen a rocky outcropping, away from the tall trees and on a covering of moss and grass that spread across the gray rock above the river.

  The brightly colored tents were scattered in a rough circle. The trees below the outcropping made it impossible to see them, but he could hear their laughter and raised voices plainly enough.

  He didn’t see Erin’s little single tent because she wouldn’t camp very close to her charges. He was certain of that much, because his wife liked her privacy. Perhaps too damn much.

  He found her camp in short order and dropped his pack beside her gray-and-white tent.

  Erin’s pack rested inside the tent, and her food was properly hung in the trees to prevent attracting animals. The peals of laughter and howls of delight guided him to the trail to the river.

  A young man and an older woman headed in his direction, winding up the steep path from the water. The route inclined so sharply that the pair clung to saplings as they climbed. The skinny youth wore wet swim trunks and gripped a towel around his neck. His legs were pearly pale, but his face and arms showed a definite sunburn. The woman wore a one-piece bathing suit with jean shorts plastered to her legs and rivulets of water running down her tanned skin.

  “Having fun?” Dalton asked.

  The youth pointed a toned arm back the way they had come. “There’s a rock like a diving board down there. Water’s deep and still. It’s awesome!”

  The woman held her smile as her brows lifted in surprise. “Well, hey there. Didn’t see another paddler.”

  He thumbed over his shoulder. “Came overland. The trail from O-K Slip Road.”

  She passed him going in the opposite direction. “Well, that’s no fun.”

  He stepped off the trail to let them pass and continued, landing on his backside with a jolt of pain more than once.

  “No fun is right,” he muttered.

  At the bank of the river, he saw the three remaining adult campers and their leader. He’d recognize those legs anywhere. Firm tanned legs pushing off the gray rock as she climbed, leaving wet footprints from her water shoes as she easily scaled the boulder that was shaped like the fin of a shark, using a climbing rope. It was his wife.

  On the pinnacle of the sloping boulder she waited for a young woman in a pink bathing suit, which was an unfortunate match to her ruddy skin tone, to jump off and then followed behind, giving a howl of delight that made Dalton frown. He’d never heard her make such a sound of pure exhilaration.

  The single male waded out of the water and came up short at the sight of him. Dalton judged the man to be early twenties and carrying extra pounds around his middle.

  “Hiya,” he said.

  Dalton nodded and the young man crept past him on the uneven bank. The woman in pink swam and then waded after the man, followed by a lanky female with wet hair so short it stood up like a hedgehog’s spines. Erin emerged from her underwater swim at the base of the rock, scaling the slope to retrieve her climbing rope before making a final leap with the coiled rope over one shoulder.

  Dalton smiled as the pinkish woman, her face red from exertion, reached the muddy shore, her cheeks puffing out with each breath.

  “Where’d you...come...from?” she wheezed.

  “Your camp.”

  She gave him a skeptical look and paused, one hand on her knee.

  “You don’t look like an adventure camper.”

  “No?” He grinned. “What do I look like?”

  She cocked her head and her eyes narrowed. “A soldier.”

  That surprised him as he had once been just that. But he’d left Special Forces at Erin’s request.

  “Why’s that?”

  She pointed at the hunting knife that he’d strapped to his belt and then to his boots, military issue and which still fit. Finally, she lifted her finger to the tattoos staining his left forearm from wrist to elbow. The overall pattern spoke of lost comrades, blood, war dead and the corps.

  “You sure you’re with us?”

  “Erin’s my wife.”

  Her entire demeanor changed. Her face brightened and the look of suspicion vanished.

  “Oh, hi! I’m Alice. Your wife, she’s wonderful. So encouraging and warm.” Her smile faltered. “You’re her husband?”

  He didn’t like the incredulity in her voice.

  “Yeah.” For now. His stomach gave a twist that had nothing to do with healing tissue.

  “Hmm. Can’t see it.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s fun and you’re, well, you seem kinda...serious, you know?”

  His brows sank deeper over his eyes. He was fun.

  The woman glanced back down the trail where all but one hiker had vanished. “She didn’t mention you.”

  “Feel free to ask her.”

  Alice waved. “See you at camp.”

  She moved past him and continued up the trail with her comrade on her heels. This other woman said nothing, just gave him a sullen look and glanced away the minute they made eye contact.

  Erin reached the spot where she changed from swimming in the calm stretch to wading. He waited beside the kayaks.

  Her tank top clung to her skin, and he could see the two-piece suit she wore beneath, along with much of her toned, athletic build. Her wet light brown hair, cut bluntly at her jawline, had lost its natural wave in the water. Her whiskey-brown eyes sparkled above her full mouth, now stretched wide in a playful grin. He took a moment to admire the view of his wife, wet and smiling.

  He had the sudden impulse to hide before she spotted him.

  Dalton didn’t know how Erin knew he was there, but she straightened, giving him a moment to study her standing alert and relaxed as if listening to the birds that flitted across the water. Then she turned and her eyes shifted to her husband. The set of her jaw told him that she was not pleased.

  Dalton was six-three and weighed 245 pounds, but Erin’s scowl made him feel about two feet tall.

  “Surprise?” he said, stretching his arms out from his sides in a ta-da posture.

  Her gaze flicked to his middle, where she knew he still wore a bandage though the stitches were out now. She didn’t manage to keep from uttering a profanity. He knew this because he read it on her lips. The Lord’s name...in vain. Definitely. Then she tucked in her chin and started marching toward him in a way that would have made a lesser man run. Instead, he slid his hands into the rear pockets of his cargo pants and forced a smile that felt as awkward as a middle school slow dance.

  “Dalton, if that’s you, you had better run.”


  He did, running toward her, meeting her as she reached the bank.

  He stopped before her, then reached, preparing to swing her in a circle, as he did after separations of more than a day.

  She pressed her palm against the center of his chest and extended her arm, blocking him. “Don’t you dare lift me. You shouldn’t be lifting anything.”

  He was suddenly glad he’d dumped his pack.

  She hoisted the coiled rope farther up on her shoulder and aimed her extended finger at him. Her scowl deepened and her gaze shot back to him. “How long have you been tracking me?”

  “Just today. I signed up for your group.”

  Her fists went to her hips. “So I couldn’t send you home, right?”

  Her two female adults had not climbed up to camp, opting to linger and watch the awkward reunion. Dalton glared, but they held their position, their heads swiveling from her to him as they awaited his reply, reminding him of spectators at a tennis match. Dalton pinned his eyes on his wife, an opponent, wishing they were alone but knowing that the women bearing witness might just play in his favor. Erin’s tone was icy, but she had not raised it...yet.

  He grinned, leaned in for a kiss and caught only her cheek as she stepped back, scowling.

  “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, pushing past him and heading up the trail. Her campers scuttled ahead of them and out of sight.

  He trotted after her, ignoring the tug of pain that accompanied each stride.

  “Did you bring a kayak?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You planning on swimming the rapids tomorrow?”

  “I thought you’d be happy.”

  She kept walking, leaning against the slope. Her calf muscles were tight, and he pictured those ankles locked about his lower back. It had been too long.

  “I’m taking a vacation. Just like you wanted,” he added.

  She spun and stormed a few steps away, and then she rounded on him.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said back there.” She pointed toward a tree that he assumed was in the direction of Yonkers, New York, and their pretty little split ranch house with the yard facing woods owned by the power company and a grill on the patio that he had planned to use over the July Fourth weekend. Instead, he was adventure camping without a kayak.