ALWAYS ON MY MIND by Judith Rochelle Paranormal Mystery Suspense

As teenagers Faith Wilding and Mark Halloran discovered they could communicate telepathically. For most of their lives it’s been their private way to send messages, especially when a long weekend brought home the realization that their friendship had become something far more complex. But Faith is busy building a career as a successful author of political thrillers and Mark, a Special Operations team leader, is concerned with the covert missions he leads.

Now someone has betrayed their latest mission, most of his team has been killed and Mark has been captured. His telepathic messages to Faith are his only chance for help. But powerful forces want to sweep the whole episode under the rug and will do anything to make that happen—including killing Faith.

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REVIEWS

Always On My Mind was a gripping and emotional story. Mark has such strength of will, and Faith is both caring and stubborn. The men who are part of the Phoenix group introduced in this story will make wonderful main characters in future books. I am also hoping the author does more with the psychic group with which Faith’s Aunt Vivi belongs called the Lotus Circle. ~ 5 Angels Fallen Angel Review

Oh my god this is one so worth buying. Even once I finished it was still on my mind. I was so moved by the strong emotions going through each characters and I hope that there will be more like this novel from Judith Rochelle. I would love to know more about the characters like the whole Phoenix group, hunky ex-ops that will make you wonder about their own story. This book has it all romance, telepathic abilities, passion and that soul binding romance that comes only once in a lifetime. All of this is in one book that is definitely a keeper for this reader. ~ Night Owl Review

Always on My Mind is an action-packed adventure that delves into the potential of psychic abilities, similar to those Kay Hooper writes. Rochelle has written about two very likeable characters and the determination of true love. I found the story to be a gripping page turner and hope she continues with some of the other characters who were present in this story. I, for one, would love to see their adventures. While psychic abilities are a key part of the story, they are not so over the top that you think they are impossible. Add to that the super hot military men and you have a winner in Always on My Mind. ~ Joyfully Reviewed

This Lotus Circle offering is a top-notch read blending a backstory of romance with a realistic, and often violent, suspense tale. Rochelle's written a well-crafted heroine who's got extra-special skills. ~ Romantic times ****

Faith Wilding stared at her computer monitor in frustration, the screen empty except for the annoying cursor winking at her. The first three chapters of her latest political thriller were due to her agent by the end of the month and she hadn’t even written the first word. Not once since she’d sold her first manuscript had she ever been stricken with writer’s block. Today, however, it seemed as if something had swept her mind bare, knocking out every word or phrase that might be taking root.

She looked around her den, usually a place of comfort and inspiration. The warm earth tones on the rug that had been her grandmother’s were an accent on the polished hardwood floor. The couch and chair, covered in navy denim, showed traces of wear from all the times she’d lain or sat there reading manuscript drafts. The walls were lined with family pictures, faces smiling down on her with encouragement and support.

Usually this room unlocked her mind and opened the gates for her thoughts to flow freely. Not tonight. She could have been sitting in a sterile room for all the good it was doing her.

She rotated her head, easing the tension in her neck and shoulders. Maybe she should fix another cup of her favorite Chai teas. Its energy might kick-start her brain.

Stunned, she tried to focus her thoughts but a white-hot pain pierced her body, stealing her breath. She clenched her fists against it and as it faded an image of Mark’s face, bruised and lined with pain, flashed briefly and was gone.

Faith leaned back in her chair, using the skills she’d been taught to control her breathing and slow her racing pulse. Running her hands up and down her arms she discovered a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin.

Captured! Dear God. He’d reached out to her from wherever he was. But how could she find him? He could be anywhere. She felt as if a part of her body had been severed. Closing her eyes and pushing everything else from her brain, she concentrated on sending a reply.

She sat perfectly still, eyes still tightly shut, blocking out everything else, focusing as she’d been taught, to strengthen her message.

She waited but the only thing that answered her was the heavy silence. Either his strength had given out or something—or someone—had blocked him.

Finally she pushed her chair away from the desk and headed to the kitchen on legs not quite steady. Tea was definitely in order.

The last time she’d heard from Mark Halloran was two years ago. That time she’d been sitting in a Starbucks drinking a mocha latte and checking her schedule on her PDA when the message hit her. Startled, she’d nearly spilled her coffee and looked around to make sure he wasn’t just standing two feet away.

That whiskey smooth voice had warmed her blood and made her smile. And remember the one long weekend they’d had together before he left on a mission.

An image of him in a helicopter danced before her eyes, helmet securely on his head, rifle and other gear strapped to his body. As a Special Ops soldier, a member of the famed Delta Force, he was always in some far corner of the world on a mission that no one could discuss. Usually he was concentrating so hard on what he was doing there was no opportunity to clear his mind and reach out to her.

The image changed to one of him naked, grinning, his blue eyes laughing at her. Her body heated and every pulse point had begun to throb. She’d looked around her carefully, sure every eye was on her but everyone appeared to be attending to their own business. She carried that short message and those images with her for a long time.

And now, tonight’s message. Shocking in its pain. Mark, stolid and steadfast. Bastion of strength. A soldier with special skills who’d stared at death more times than she’d ever know about. Mark never asked for help. The anguish in his voice filled her with a sense of dread. Fear drenched her and a cold knot of it tightened in her stomach. For him to send her this message the situation had to be out of control.

But where was he? What had happened to him? And what was wrong that the only cry for help he could get out was telepathically to her?

Leaning against the counter, sipping the hot tea, she thought about the first time they’d discovered their telepathic ability to communicate.

Fourteen-year-old Faith sat up so quickly the book she was reading slid off the end of the table. The resulting noise drew several hushing sounds from others in the library. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment she leaned down and picked it up, then looked around. Had someone just spoken to her? Out loud? In the library?

She gripped her pen as she looked around again. There. In the corner. Mark grinning at her and winking. How had he done that, sent her that message? Sometimes during the past few years she’d had the feeling that she could almost—almost—hear his voice in her head but she’d passed it off as wishful thinking.

Several times she’d thought about calling Aunt Vivi and talking to her, asking her about it but she knew her parents would have a fit. Her mother’s sister was telepathic and she belonged to The Lotus Circle, an ancient society now resurrected and spread throughout the world via the internet. Its members were people with special abilities, always ready to help each other and provide assistance and comfort when necessary. Despite how the rest of the family felt, Faith stood in awe of her. Did receiving Mark’s message this way mean, like her aunt, that she might be a telepath, also? The thought made her both anxious and excited.

Faith closed her eyes and built her reply in her head. Just to see if she could do it.

A tiny thrill skittered through her. Clearly she had the same gift as Aunt Vivi. But Mark! Where had he come by this? Who in his family had this special gift that had filtered down to him?

Faith closed her book and shoved everything into her back pack. Mark had already left the large reading room and she followed as quickly as she could She found him outside sitting on one of the broad stone steps, the quirky grin still on his face.

“How did you do that?” She lowered herself to the step beside him. “How did you know you could do it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. A feeling. I kept hearing bits and pieces of people’s messages in my head. Strangers. I wanted to try this for a long time, to see if I could actually send a message to someone.” He grinned. “I wanted it to be you.”

He reached over and took one of her small hands in his. At sixteen he already had the structure of a man. Tall body just filling out. Large, warm hands. Eyes full of mischief and a face on the verge of being rugged. All topped with a thick head of inky black hair.

To fourteen-year-old Faith he was the man of her dreams. The invisible bond between them had been forged the day they met, when Faith and her family moved next door to the Hallorans. The shy six-year-old was nervous about entering a new school and meeting strangers. Until the eight-year-old boy held out his hand and said, “I’ll take care of you,” and helped her onto the bus. Something passed between them, as sharp as a bolt of lightning yet more comforting. Secure. Faith had raised her eyes to Mark’s, warmed at the sight of his smile and they’d been a team since then.

As they got older, on warm nights they sat outside counting stars and sharing dreams. When Mark dated now and then, Faith felt an unreasoning rush of jealousy but the thread that bound them still remained as strong as ever. And none of the relationships, even beyond high school, ever lasted.

For herself she had no desire to spend time with other boys. Assuming, of course, her parents would ever lift the restrictions and allow her something beyond group activities.

They’d always been able to read each others thoughts, even as tiny children. This had to be just a natural outgrowth of that. Didn’t it? Faith frowned. Or did she—and Mark—have a connection far beyond the ordinary?

She looked up at him and smiled. Even at fourteen the sight of him could make her heart stumble and her blood race. “Just wondering if we could do that again. You know. Talk without talking.”

Mark had been accepted at Texas A&M and planned to become a member of their elite ROTC Corps. Then into the Army.

“Tell you what. Let’s try it tonight when we’re at home. Maybe before we each go to sleep.”

“Come on.” He put his arm around her and drew her close to him, giving her a quick squeeze. “I’ll drive you home. Don’t forget about tonight.”

She could hardly wait for evening to come and darkness, so she could test this new phase of their relationship. At ten o’clock she climbed into bed, prepared to lie awake until whatever time Mark might send her a message. Knowing him it could be as late as midnight. But she had barely settled her head on the pillow and tried to clear her mind of any obstacles when she heard him. Sharp. Clear. As if he was standing beside her.

His name for her since he’d shot up to his present height while she remained at a tiny five foot one.

Hi. An image flashed across her brain like a flickering move. Mark, on his bed in nothing but his boxers. The same grin on his face. Faith slid down and pulled the blanket over her head, cheeks hot with teenage embarrassment.

Faith turned over and hugged her pillow to her body. Was it possible to fall in love at fourteen?

Faith stood in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her, hoping it would sweep the clutter out of her mind. She’d tried three more times to reach him, focusing her message, making her mind a blank except for that one image of him. Nothing. Now so many images of Mark were crowding together she couldn’t separate them from the latest one, so full of pain it hurt her just to think about it.

Lord, she missed him. More than she ever admitted to herself. The men she’d dated in college and beyond were merely pale imitations of the man who held both her heart and her soul in the palm of his hand. But so much separated them, things that kept getting in the way. College. The Army. Even her career to a small degree, although she could write anywhere. But Mark’s military assignments were so secret and required such focus he made the choice not to be distracted by her nearness. They both knew phone calls and brief contact would only leave them wanting more, so by unspoken agreement they pushed everything to the back of their minds.

Until Mark felt he had honored his commitment to his country and they were both ready to think about the future.

That left only the telepathic messages but to Faith they were more special than anything. A means of communicating that shut everyone else out. Words. Images. Enough to keep them going.

She turned off the shower, squeezed the water from her long hair and reached for a thick towel to wrap around herself, another one to squeeze the excess water from her hair before using the blow dryer..

But this was a little more complicated than delving into a politician’s life. She wouldn’t be able to find people willing to talk. Or even acknowledge that they knew Mark Halloran or anything to do with his assignments.

She’d start with his parents. Maybe they had a tiny glimmer of where he’d been sent. At least the general region.

But first she’d call Aunt Vivi and go talk to her. If there was another telepath where Mark was being held who was erecting shields to block his mind, she’d need help to get around them. And help to strengthen her own abilities to send her messages to Mark.

She slipped into bed and turned out the light. All those years from the time they were children, forging a relationship that outsiders couldn’t pierce. Being there for each other. Was it love, what they had? They’d hardly spent enough intimate time with each other to know. Whatever it was, though, it was unbreakable.

“We’ll always be there for each other, right?” That’s what he’d said the last time she’d seen him.

As she always did at night she closed her eyes and willed Mark’s face to come to her. But tonight it wasn’t the one with the rumpled black hair and laughing vivid blue eyes. Tonight it was the one with deep ridges of pain and anguish that darkened the blue almost to black.

Faith felt shock race through her. Kill? Whoever captured him was going to kill him? Her heart banged against her ribs like a jackhammer. She lay back down and forced a calmness she didn’t feel. With an effort of will she directed all her energy into the message.

But no matter how long she lay away, straining her senses, the only thing that answered her was silence.

The morning did little to ease the tension left from the night before. First thing, Faith took care of things hanging fire with her agent and her publicity person. Then she deliberately shut down her computer, ruthlessly driving her mind away from the latest book she was trying to start and swallowed the last of her coffee. It was time to talk to her aunt.

“Of course you can come and see me,” Aunt Vivi told her. After a brief silence, she added, “Is this personal or professional?”

“Yes.” Vivi nodded. “I felt the tension in your voice and sensed your trouble.” She put an arm around her niece. “Come in. I’ve made some tea. I want to know what’s troubling your mind and shutting down your inner person.”

They sat at the kitchen table, scene of every important conversation Faith could remember, inhaling the fragrance of the vanilla tea that Vivi liked.

Vivi raised one eyebrow. “That’s nothing new. The two of you have been sending each other telepathic messages since you were teenagers.”

“Oh?” Vivi frowned. “How so? I can’t imagine Mark doing anything to scare you.”

“He’s in trouble. That alone scares me. Mark has always been the solid, indestructible rock.” She raked her fingers through her hair. The two of them had one unbreakable commitment to each other. No matter where they were, if one of them needed the other, they’d come. At once. And she would, if she could only find out where he was. “And I got such an image of pain. Of agony. And I felt it too.”

Vivi took her niece’s hand. “Remember I told you a long time ago, when you first came to me to talk about this, that you might also have some empathic abilities too? That, in the right circumstances, you could sense other people’s feelings and emotions. And pain.”

“Yes. I remember.” Faith picked up her tea cup. “But I’ve never felt it as strongly as this.” She forced herself to look directly at Vivi. “I felt as if the pain was mine. You know?”

“And that’s because of the relationship between you and Mark.” Vivi sighed. “I’ve always wondered why the two of you never moved forward with what I knew you felt for each other.”

Faith shrugged. “Time. Circumstances. Not wanting to ruin a friendship with something that might not last.” She shook her head. “Now I wish we had.”

“If wishes were horses.” Vivi quoted her favorite saying. “I hope you’ll both acknowledge your feelings once you’re together again.”

“If only. Aunt Vivi, it frightens me to think what he must be going through. And I don’t even know where he is.”

Vivi rose and refilled their cups. She squeezed Faith’s shoulder, a gesture of warmth. “You have no idea if your messages got through to him.”

“No. None at all. And I had the feeling his were being shut down on that end. That’s why only bits and pieces come through.”

Vivi nodded. “That’s entirely possible. If they have a telepath among them he could be closing the psychic door.”

“I keep hoping that in one of these messages he’ll be able to give me some kind of clue as to where he is. If he even knows. Right now I don’t even have a starting point.” She ran her finger around the rim of the cup. “And I have to be able to tell him I got his messages to me.” She looked up. “That’s why I’m here. I can’t do this myself, especially if they have a psychic blocker.”

“All right.” Vivi put one of her hands over Faith’s. “I think for this we need other members of the Circle.” She leaned over and kissed her niece’s cheek. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll get this done.”

Faith went to stand at the big window overlooking the back yard. The abundance of flowers always soothed her, calmed her nerves when she was jittery. Right now she could have used a truckload of them. The thought of Mark somewhere in danger, wounded, maybe dying, terrified her in ways she couldn’t admit. If that was the case, the last thing she wanted to think about was all the years they’d wasted. Years they could have been together instead of off chasing dreams.

No! She wouldn’t think about that. Somehow she would let him know his message came through and she was on it. Finding him. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if the very friction could dispel the cold that had settled inside her.

She heard Vivi speaking softly on the phone, then come to stand beside her. “Sarah and Emily will be here in about an hour. Then we’ll see what we can do.”

The sun was a globe of fire creeping up in the sky, turning everything below it into an oven. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning yet Mark Halloran was sure the temperature was already close to triple digits. The humidity was as thick as a rainfall. The roar and grunt of the howler monkeys was already splitting the air as they leaped from tree to tree feasting on the canopy leaves.

And this appeared to be a permanent camp, with tents, lean-tos and crude buildings. It also boasted a campfire pit and other amenities they wouldn’t have taken the time for in a transitory situation, unlike the temporary setup where the meeting had taken place. Where they’d been told the Wolf was going to meet with Escobedo’s group. A friend of a former Special Ops soldier Rick Latrobe’s, deep undercover with Escobedo’s group, had risked his life to get the message out that the Wolf was going to make a personal appearance. Unusual for him but this shipment was so large and involved so much money, Escobedo insisted.

Not at his camp, however. Not even the Wolf would be privy to its location. A meeting place not far away was set up. For the Wolf it would be in and out. Just like that. He would arrive with the shipment, Escobedo would bring the money. As soon as both parties were satisfied with the goods, the transaction would take place and that would be that.

Mark had gone to his commanding office, Major John Gregorio, with the information. The major had passed it up the chain and the word had come down to act. The United States government had waited a very long time for a chance at the Wolf. To make it a two-fer upped the ante.

A simple mission. Get in. Take out the bad guys. Get out. One less group of Al Qaeda plotters to worry about. And the arms dealer meeting with them. That was the key. That’s what he and his men had been told. It was a chance to clean out a viper’s nest and take out a key arms player at the same time.

With the weakening of the Tupac Amaru terrorist group and the decline of Shining Path, Al Qaeda had been recruiting heavily and spending big money to rebuild Peru’s terrorist structure. Another foothold in South America for the promised Islamic world.

But someone had leaked the mission, Escobedo’s group was waiting for them and now most of his men were dead. After burning the bodies of Mark’s men they’d cleaned up every trace of what had taken place and moved, all of them including the Wolf, what Mark reckoned was about ten miles away.

He grunted, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. The tent gave him little protection him from the ruthless sun and having his ankle chained to a stake barely two feet away severely restricted his movements. For maybe the thousandth time he wondered what had gone wrong and landed him in this abominable mess.

God, what a mess it had been. One minute they were finding their positions to take their shots, carefully hidden, the target painted. The next they were the targets instead. The noise of the AK47s still echoed in his ears, along with the stench of the blood of his dying men. They’d even gotten the comm guy they’d left at the insertion and extraction point with their gear.

He’d forced himself to look when they dragged the bodies into the center of the camp, piled them together and set them on fire. They stood watching with arrogant, evil grins on their faces, then opened bottles of whiskey to celebrate. Mark was sure it was a sight he’d never forget.

He knew what they wanted—the name of the man who had betrayed them. They could kill him and very well might but the source had to be protected at all costs.

Yet as much as they tortured him, for sport and pleasure as well as information, there were things he hung onto that kept his sanity intact. For one thing, despite his wounds he kept himself alert and counted the bodies. One was missing, Joey Latrobe. The kid. The sniper. Rick’s brother, who’d brought them the information. Mark was convinced he wasn’t dead or they’d have found him. No, badly wounded or not, he’d found a way to hide from them. Now if Mark could only be sure he got away.

Of course he had no idea what shape Joey was in, or even if he could give his rescuers, if there were any, information about the camp. Which, by his reckoning, was now at least ten miles from where it had been when he was captured.

But what gave him real strength was his connection to Faith. God. Beautiful Faith. The woman of his dreams. How stupid was he to walk away from what they could have to play soldier? No, not that. To defend his country. His sense of honor and patriotism was stronger than almost anything. But now, if he died here in this godforsaken hellhole, the only memory he’d have would be that long weekend they’d shared before he was deployed the first time.

Had she gotten his message? Since they discovered their shared ability in their teens, their telepathic communication had been a fun thing for them, a way to shut everyone else out and communicate only with each other. But the Army had learned about his special skill and had people work with him to develop it even more. Hone it. Refine it. One of the men on this mission was also a telepath. And Chase Wohlmann could construct psychic shields. That meant he could put invisible walls in place to prevent strangers—or enemies—from reading their message. He could also protect them from assaults on their minds.

But Chase was dead. Burned in the mass funeral pyre. Mark nearly vomited every time he thought about that horrific scene.

Mark knew one of the men in the camp was a telepath. He’d felt it when he sent the first message. The slamming shut of the mental barrier. Preventing a message from Faith from getting through. He’d have to be very careful.

The acquired British accent punctured his thoughts. Mark looked up at the man who’d come into the tent, the arms dealer who should be dead now instead of standing in front of him. Tall and lean, aristocratic in bearing, his disdain not only for Mark but for the men who bought his merchandise was evident. Mark knew he’d be long gone by now if not for the information he was seeking. Each time Mark was dragged to the center of the camp for whatever torture the men devised, this man stood watching with eyes that glittered, a tiny smile curving his lips.

“No cheery greeting?” the man asked, then kicked the open cut on Mark’s leg.

Mark gritted his teeth and forced himself to show as little reaction as possible. So far he’d been able to keep from saying anything to his captors. They could kill him and they very well might but he’d never open his mouth.

“Ah, well. No matter. I’d really love to be gone from here but unfortunately you have information I need.” He deliberately stepped on the injured leg.

“You could save yourself a lot of pain, you know. I will use whatever means the men devise to find out how you knew about this camp and who organized this little mission of yours. This could seriously jeopardize plans already in place, not to mention affecting my business enterprises.” He nodded toward the open flap and two men entered. Unshackling Mark from the stake they lifted him by his arms and half-walked, half-carried him outside.

“Oh and by the way,” the man called after him. “We counted the bodies carefully. One of your men is missing. Wherever he is, we’ll find him.”

Then Mark concentrated on clearing his mind of everything but an image of Faith and projecting one short message before they shut him down.

Vivi had brewed a fresh pot of lotus tea, a herbal tea blended for meditation and wisdom. Faith loved the scent of fresh flowers that lingered over the pale golden infusion of white lotus, chamomile, chrysanthemum and linden. She had kept her own supply ever since her aunt introduced her to it.

They were seated at the kitchen table again, this time joined by Sarah Winston and Emily Ross, the two women Vivi had called. They were the first members of The Lotus Circle Faith had met besides her aunt and had helped her enormously as she struggled to grow into and control her power. As two of her guides when she became a member of the Circle, they had come today without hesitation.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she told them, nervously stirring her tea. “Mark and I have never done anything with our…ability…except communicate with each other. I know you think we wasted it but it was a very private thing with us, something we chose not to share. Or use in a way that included others.”

Sarah put her hand on Faith’s arm. “That is your choice, sweetheart. Being a telepath doesn’t mean you have to do anything with it except what you feel comfortable with. The Lotus Circle is only to help people expand their powers fully and teach them how to direct them. And be here, like today, when we’re needed.”

Faith shook her head. “I told Aunt Vivi I’m sure someone’s blocking him. He can’t—”

She gripped the edge of the table, Mark’s voice out of nowhere sharp and clear in her head. A sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs followed it, almost doubling her over.

Vivi was beside her at once, arms around her, pulling her into the jasmine scent that always surrounded her.

“I heard him.” Faith could hardly get the words out. “And felt the pain again. Oh, Aunt Vivi, he’s in agony. Something terrible’s happening to him. Right now.”

“All right, sweetheart.” She wrapped Faith’s hands around her cup and helped her lift it. “Sip your tea, just a little to calm you. We won’t get anywhere if your nerves are jangled and interfering.”

In a few moments Faith felt herself relax a little but a fine line of tension still ran through her body.

“Faith.” Emily leaned forward. “You must try again to get through to him. If you can’t, we’ll work on something else.”

“All right. I’ll do my best.” She closed her eyes, still holding her tea cup and did the mental exercises she used to clear her mind. Finally, when she was ready, she brought up a clean image of Mark, a happy image. “I’m here. Can you hear me?”

“Let’s all do this together,” Sally suggested, when it was apparent there was no response. “We’ll all focus on the same message.”

“Wait.” Emily put down her cup. “We need to increase our strength.” Motioning to the others, she indicated they should leave their seats and form a circle around Faith. “Join hands, please. Left palm up, right palm down, hands interwoven to create an energy ring.”

In the thick silence filling the room, Faith absorbed the power the women were infusing into her. She called up an image of Mark and focused her mind on it.

After five minutes the lack of response was a strong indication someone had erected a thick shield that prevented Mark from hearing her. Or answering her. The energy ring wasn’t piercing the shield.

“All right.” Vivi refilled everyone’s cups as they took their places at the table again. “We need to have a plan.” Vivi stirred her tea and looked at her friends. “Ladies, we need to figure out how we can pierce that shield and help these two exchange messages more clearly. Honey, Sally, Emily and I will work on that. You’ve never stretched yourself to that level and you might only be a distraction.”

“I know you’ve just started a new book,” Sarah began but Faith interrupted her.

“Forget that.” She waved her hand. “The book is on hold until I find Mark. For him to ask me for help means he’s in serious trouble. Right now that’s the only important thing.” She looked at her aunt. Don’t make me sit on the sidelines and wait.”

“Of course not.” Vivi gave her a warm smile. “You need to keep sending that message. Do it on a regular basis. Clear your mind and focus. And, my dear, you’re going to use abilities you possess that we don’t. Your skills as a writer.”

“I want you to start your own investigation. We have a general geographic location. Use all your contacts to see if you can find out what Mark’s last mission was. And get that research assistant of yours busy on digging up anything she can on hot spots in South America, or rumors of dangerous activity, that would require a Special Ops mission.”

Energy surged through Faith and for the first time since Mark’s first message she felt she was doing something positive. “I’ll start right away.”

Faith stared at the pad of paper in front of her, the top page filled with notes in her neat handwriting. As soon as she’d arrived back at her house she seated herself at her desk and begun to make lists.

Who to call? That was the big question. With Special Ops you couldn’t just pick up the telephone and ask if the Army had misplaced one of its teams. Because that’s what she had to find out first. Mark never operated alone. He was always as part of a team. Four years ago he’d become a team leader. Although he said little about it, she had a feeling he was considered among the elite. But that only meant he got the most dangerous missions. The jobs no one else could be trusted with.

The men tapped for Special Ops were considered “Special warriors, thoroughly prepared, properly equipped and highly motivated, at the right place, at the right time, facing the right adversary, leading the Global War on Terrorism, accomplishing the strategic objectives of the United States.” Gathered from the ranks of the Navy, the Army and the Marines, they were the point men in the war on terrorism. This was all Mark had wanted from the minute he entered the Army.

Faith let her eyes travel to the picture of him in his dress uniform taken the last weekend she’d seen him. Their very long, very physical, very emotional weekend together before his first deployment six years ago. Tears pricked at her eyelids. They had taken so much for granted, stupidly assuming life would wait for them.

Why hadn’t she protested when he said he didn’t want to tie her down? That seeing each other more often would only make it worse. That he had a job to do for his country and he needed to focus on it and not feel guilty about always leaving her. That she had a life she needed to live.

“I don’t want you sitting at home waiting for bad news, darlin’,” Mark had told her. “This way you have the chance to move ahead with your life.”

As if she could. As if she’d ever do anything but sit and wait for word. Just as she had for these past years. It had taken that weekend to show her just how much she loved him. And teach her that she needed to keep it to herself until Mark felt he was ready for that kind of commitment.

If…no, when…she got him out of this mess, there would be some changes in the rules. That was for damn sure.

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and pushed her hair back behind her ears.

First, the Hallorans. She knew Mark kept in touch with them, through letters or phone calls. Maybe both. And on the rare occasions he could squeeze in a weekend, he always found time to spend a day with Faith.

Friends! Since that one weekend they’d spent together, when friendship had been tucked into a corner, she’d wanted a whole lot more. And he might deny it but she was sure in her heart that Mark did too. Then he’d been deployed for a long time and now those years had passed.

She’d made it a habit to stop by and say hello to the Hallorans, even for a moment, whenever she was at her parents’ place. They were her connection to Mark when mental messages couldn’t get through.

Sometimes she thought for all the excitement she had in her social life she could still be living at home but her parents had pushed her out of the nest with firmness and affection and a door always open.

With her first big royalty checks she bought herself a tiny house in northwest San Antonio, not too far from either her family or Aunt Vivi. While she’d been writing her political thrillers she’d also been honing her telepathic skills, an activity she never discussed with her parents. Aunt Vivi and The Lotus Circle had helped her and also provided a respite from her hectic life as a writer.

Faith shook herself. Letting her mind wander wouldn’t get her any place. Concentrate. The Hallorans.

She held her breath as the silence stretched unbearably. Then, just as she felt frustration grip her again, one word.

She wanted to laugh and cry. He’d heard her! He knew she’d gotten his message.

More silence but she forced herself to wait with as much patience as she could manage.

Somehow she knew this silence wouldn’t be broken. The invisible wall had slammed into place again. He was obviously trying to time his messages when the telepathic captor was otherwise mentally occupied. No problem. At least they’d made the connection.

She’d hurry as fast as she could. Picking up the phone, she dialed a still familiar number.

Dinah Halloran reached out and pulled Faith in through the open doorway. In a moment her arms were around the younger woman, hugging her tightly.

“I was just telling Frank the other day how successful your new book is. I hear people talking about it everywhere. And that television show you did must have boosted sales. Come on into the kitchen. I know you’re not a big coffee drinker but how about some sweet tea?”

They walked through the living room where every inch of the fireplace mantel and a round side table were covered with pictures of Mark—in his high school football uniform, at his college graduation, in uniform, receiving awards. She was in many of them and the memories of those years swamped her.

The picture that made tears burn at the back of her throat was of Mark when he was accepted into Delta force and began Special Ops training. War had already etched lines on his face and his eyes were far too old for a man of his age. But he stood tall and proud, his muscular body evident beneath the uniform. Pride stamped on his face. And his mouth split in his familiar killer smile.

She allowed herself to be propelled into the big room where she’d eaten many meals with the Hallorans, at the table where she and Mark had often done their homework. Usually she felt warmed by its familiarity. Today she had to work to conceal her tension.

She forced herself to sit quietly while Dinah busied herself getting out glasses and pouring tea. Mark’s mother was aging gracefully, her figure still slender and well-toned, her skin smooth, her graying hair pulled back in a clip at the nape of her neck. She’s really ageless, Faith thought.

“Well.” Dinah sat down across from her. “Are you visiting your folks today?”

“Maybe later.” Faith sipped her iced tea, collecting her thoughts. How to approach this. She didn’t think Mark came home and blabbed classified secrets to his family, no matter how close they were. Honor and country first, that was his motto.

“I was looking at a picture of Mark today,” she began, “and realized I don’t have any recent shots of him. How’s he doing? It seems ages since we saw each other.”

“Well, not too much, as you can imagine.” Dinah fiddled with her glass. “The stuff he does is so highly classified he can’t talk about it much.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” Faith made her voice as casual as possible. “I just wondered if he ever talked about the countries he was sent to. You know, just in passing.”

Dinah looked at her with eyes that scrutinized. “Faith, what’s this really all about? You know Mark can’t share any information. More than anyone you’re aware of the secretive nature of what he does. So what are you really asking?”

Faith swallowed, weighing her words. “I just… I guess I just had a sudden fit of worry about him. That’s all.”

The older woman looked at her with the wise eyes of a mother. “Have you ever told Mark how you feel about him?”

“Dinah smiled. “Don’t kid a kidder. I’d say you’ve been in love with my son for years. And I may be telling tales out of school but I’m convinced he feels the same way. You know, Frank and I had always hoped the two of you—”

“Maybe one of these days.” Faith cut her off. Too much of that and she’d burst into tears. “I just wondered what part of the world he was in these days. Which danger spot he was in. Maybe if I knew that I’d worry less.”

Dinah shrugged. “Or more. Anyway, Mark would never say a word. You know that.” She sighed. “Not that I’d worry less if I knew where he was. Probably more.”

“Oh, Dinah.” Faith tried to think outside of herself for a moment. “This must be so hard for you. And Frank.”

“You’ve no idea.” Her lips turned up in a crooked smile. “He is, after all, our only child.” She sat up straighter. “But one we’re definitely proud of.”

But she did have the one tiny clue. South America. It beat having to scavenge the entire world.

Faith finished her tea and stood up. “I hate to run but I have a new deadline looming. I was close enough to you that I had to take a minute to stop by. Please tell Frank hello and give him a hug for me.” She kissed Dinah’s cheek. “And if you hear from that handsome son of yours, tell him I said to watch his back.”

“Come see us again, okay?” She watched from the door as Faith walked to her car. “We miss you. You’re family too, you know.”

“I will. Promise.” She waved as she backed out of the driveway, anxious to be gone to nibble on the tiny scrap of information she’d happened on. And she’d have to stop by and see her parents or there’d be hell to pay.

Faith wasn’t surprised the Hallorans had no information to share. Mark knew the meaning of ‘classified’. But she’d had to give it a shot. Even though she still had nothing more than a continent to go by, at least it was a starting point.

An idea was forming in her head. Maybe her sole attack of writer’s block had been for a purpose, more than just to clear her head for Mark’s message. As she turned onto her parents’ street she flipped open her cell phone and pressed speed dial for Tia Romero, her research assistant.

“Hey. I know I said you could have the rest of this week and next off but can I exchange the promise for a two-week paid vacation down the line? I need you to meet me at my house in about two hours. You bring your suitcase. I’ll bring Chinese.”

The two men, one thin, one heavy, were at a table in a corner of the quiet restaurant, an alcove that insulated them from the other diners. To the casual eye they were two men sharing a business lunch, discussing whatever—investments, a corporate negotiation, the art of the deal. If anyone had an inkling of the real nature of their conversation they’d run for the nearest newspaper.

His companion shook his head, “We need to get in the habit of using other names, so we won’t forget and slip when we’re in a place where we could be overheard. You’ll be Mr. Brown and I’ll be Mr. Green.”

“Fine.” Mr. Brown blew out a breath of disgust. A thin man, with salt and pepper hair, he resumed cutting his steak into small, precise pieces.

“Do they think he’ll come out of it?” The heavyset man, Mr. Green, frowned as he twirled pasta around his fork.

“Don’t know. Right now it doesn’t appear likely. It’s a damn good thing. You need to keep in mind it’s only by the sheerest accident of luck that I discovered who he was and where he was found. If he wakes up and starts talking…”

Mr. Green put down his fork. “We’d both better start praying he doesn’t. Right now everyone just thinks the mission went down wrong. No one had any answers. If Latrobe starts talking, we could all be in deep shit.”

Mr. Brown swallowed half of his iced tea. “I still don’t know how he managed to crawl to where he did with three bullets in him. He was damned lucky the mercenaries who found him are former US military.”

“Yes. He was damned lucky. Not us, that’s for sure. We’d be better off if they’d left him to die.”

Mr. Green took a large swallow of his wine. “They were all supposed to be dead. Every one of them.”

“And I’m sure they thought this man was too. After all, they weren’t counting noses.”

Mr. Green grunted. “They should have been. At least the one they captured alive is the leader. And they’re keeping him alive to get information from him. Like how anyone knew about the meeting and the group to begin with. No one’s ever been able to find out before in spite of the fact they’ve been scouting the Wolf for months.”

Mr. Brown carefully buttered a roll. “You’d think I’d have been able to find that out, considering the position the head honcho of this cluster-fuck is in. But SpecOps has locked down information now tighter than a drum.”

“We’d better hope Escobedo’s men get the name of the traitor from Halloran. That’s a leak we need to plug right away.”

Mr. Brown made a face. “Men like him never break. And it would be political suicide for this government to even admit he’s a captive and trade for him or go after him. Supposedly this little nest of vipers was cleaned up long ago.”

A shrug. “You’re the one always talking about how smart you are. Figure it out. First of all get rid of the one in the coma. You’ve got the doctor under your thumb but that won’t last. This kid has family. Someone will wonder why they haven’t been notified. You can’t keep that Top Secret classification on his hospital file forever.”

Mr. Brown leaned across the table. “Listen, you jackass. I can’t just spirit a wounded soldier out of a hospital and make him disappear with no questions. Or wipe out the other problem.”

“Yeah? Well, you’d better figure it out or the man we work for will hand both of us our heads and it won’t be pleasant. Is that what you want?”

Mr. Green shook his head. “Rotten luck, that’s what. Somehow he dragged himself back to the extraction point after our friends had moved on. His good luck and our bad that he was there when the extraction team arrived. Now we’re in the position of hoping he dies or figuring out how to make it happen ourselves.”

“Okay.” Tia Romero wiped her mouth delicately and sat back in her chair. “You bribed me with Chinese food and dangled a paid vacation in front of my eyes. Ready to tell me what this is all about?”

Faith cleared the debris from the table and stuck the dishes in the dishwasher. After dumping everything else in the trash basket, she took two legal pads and a coffee mug full of pens from the counter and set them on the table.

“Project?” Tia cocked an eyebrow. “You already have one. I just finished the research for it. Remember?”

Faith pasted a smile on her face. “I’ve decided to put it on hold and go with a great idea that just came to me.”

Tia’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? You have a deadline. Your publisher won’t be happy if you tell him to just chill out.”

“No problem.” Faith pushed a legal pad across the table. “I’m calling my agent in the morning, pitching my new idea and she can tell John to chill out.”

“You are nuts, girl. Nuts. You want to start all over when you have a book ready to go?” Tia shook her head. “You’ve never done this before. Especially not with your deadline looming.”

Faith nodded. “Then it’s time for me to break the rules. John will buy it when he hears the plot. Now pay attention.”

“Yes. It’s about…oh…let’s say an Army Special Ops guy, who’s lost on a mission that has political ramifications.” She doodled on the pad of paper. “But the mission falls apart. Almost everyone but our hero is killed.” She chewed on the tip of the pen, screwing her face into a picture of concentration. “We have to figure out who the leak was and why.” She waved her hand in the air.

“There are a zillion possibilities,” Tia pointed out. “Just open the newspaper and pick a story. Is this about drug cartels? Overthrowing a dictator? Terrorists? Take your pick.”

“It needs fleshing out,” Faith agreed, “but we can outline the plot together.”

“Outline the plot together?” Tia put down her pen. “Faith, you never ask for help with plots. What the hell is going on?”

The pain that lanced through her leg from ankle to knee brought tears to her eyes. She gripped the table, holding her breath against the intensity until it passed.

“Faith?” Tia leaped up from her chair and was at Faith’s side in an instant, kneeling beside her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The image assaulted her, Mark’s face so tortured his muscles were almost in rictus, followed by a picture of lush green jungle foliage heavily spattered with blood.

Her face was covered with perspiration and she rubbed at it with the hem of her t-shirt. She had to swallow hard not to vomit.

Faith drew in a great breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m fine. Really. Just a muscle spasm.”

“It’s gone now. Done.” Faith picked up her water glass and drained it, giving her time to collect herself. She certainly didn’t need to frighten Tia half to death. When her heart rate had slowed, she picked up her pen and tore off the page she’d been scribbling on.

Her assistant gave her a searching look. “If you say so.” Her voice was doubtful.

“Let’s drop it, okay?” Faith got up, filled her water glass again and sat back down at the table. “Now. I think the mission should be set somewhere in South America. You know, lots of thick tropical plants and trees and remote, hidden locations. Besides, Iraq and Afghanistan have been done to death. Africa too.”

Faith frowned. “Not sure yet. Maybe terrorists but we’ll leave that open. But it’s a fact too many countries down there have become havens for terrorists and the cartels run more of the continent than the governments do. I’d say with everything else, something on that continent makes it an ideal choice.”

“You got that one right. Okay. South America. Somewhere.” Tia sat back down in her chair and made notes on her pad of paper. “So where do you want me to start?”

“First scour the internet for anything you can find on any kind of military missions there. Special Ops. Anything that’s been reported after the fact. Or even something the media are sniffing around right now.” She gave a short laugh. “You know how they manage to sniff out just about anything.”

“Check all the countries,” Faith went on. “And check blogs as well as newspaper and magazine articles. You know those people talk about anything. Use that fertile imagination of yours. Oh and dig up whatever you can about Special Ops.”

Tia looked at her for a long time. “Faith, what’s this really all about? Why are you suddenly off on this kick, with a plot totally different from anything else you’ve written?”

“It’s a political thriller, just like the others. Just with a different twist.”

“Uh-huh.” Tia was silent for a long time. “Okay. I guess when you’re ready you’ll tell me. Meanwhile, any particular South American country you’re interested in?”