Fallen Angel Read Free Page A

experiencing diverse cultures and customs. As her peers gossiped about boys and experimented with make–up, she’d seen loyalty tested and lives sacrificed, often violently. She had learned all of her lessons at her father’s knee, from several languages to the artistry of constructing a bomb.
    Patrick’s friends, who’d become her friends and protectors whenever a crisis occurred, had been an eclectic assembly—men and women who took life–threatening risks on a daily basis.
    They had challenged fate, laughed in the faces of their adversaries, and lived life on the edge—of society, of acceptable norms of behavior, of conventional perceptions of right and wrong—but always within the framework of a rigid code of conduct. Always.
    Regardless of the world’s disdain for them, Geneva considered these men and women her family. They’d comforted her in her grief when Patrick had succumbed to a heart attack in Tehran on her nineteenth birthday. Nicholas had assumed the role of older brother, taking her under his wing and granting her membership in his band of highly–paid and extremely lethal mercenaries.
    A few years later these same men and women had carried her damaged body to safety when an explosive device malfunctioned at some remote hell–hole in the Middle East. They’d guarded her during a lengthy recuperation while her broken bones and shattered spirit mended. Allies in friendship, they had all learned sign language—some even going so far as to supplement their skills with finger–spelling—as a means of facilitating her ability to adapt to a seventy–five percent hearing loss.
    When the time to retire finally arrived, they did so as a group in a carefully orchestrated manner. The former warriors struggled with the adjustment required of them as they settled into new lives and identities in northern Nevada. But they had struggled together, their loyalty to one another, and in particular to Nicholas Benteen, absolute.
    Geneva knew now what she’d always known. She couldn’t change the past, even though she desperately wanted to. Neither could she conceal it and still maintain her integrity if she welcomed a man into her heart and life. The truth wasn’t a negotiable commodity. It never had been, and it never would be if she hoped to sustain her self–respect.
    She surged up from her chair and made her way to the stockroom adjacent to her office. Donning a smock, she forced herself to calm down by doing a simple chore: resupplying the display shelves of her specialty shop with jars of homemade jams and preserves. The simplicity of the task reminded her that she’d come a long way from the Middle East battlefields she’d once walked.
    As was her habit, Geneva greeted each person who walked into Talmadge, Inc. that day with a welcoming smile. The melancholy she felt remained concealed from everyone. The only person who sensed the truth was her reclusive business partner, Sean Cassidy, Nicholas Benteen’s brother–in–law. He didn’t press her, though, because he carried his own burdens from their shared past.
    ** ** **
     
    Memories and thoughts about the past kept Geneva awake that night. That and the face of the rugged–looking man who had so thoroughly frightened her. She abandoned her bed well before dawn the next morning, showered and dressed, and then drove twenty miles in the dark to her office at Talmadge, Inc. She dealt with invoices and mail order forms as she sipped hot coffee and indulged in one of Sean’s newer creations—wild raspberry muffins.
    She noticed the blinking light on the electronic panel atop her desk a few hours later while she lingered over a collection of documents that she’d received from the attorney who handled her business affairs. Wired to a state–of–the–art motion sensor, the red light alerted her to the presence of customers. Nicholas, ever vigilant about her safety, had installed the device prior to the grand opening of the shop.
    Glad for the