Solving the Mysterious Stranger

Cole slipped his finger into the trigger guard on his SIG.

Then Chien Fou smiled. “Take her, Cole. You’ve earned the right.”

He had to force himself not to slump in relief. He heard a shaky sigh from Amelia and a curse from Habib.

“You sons of bitches!” Hopkins blurted, yanking away from Abel. “Keep your filthy hands off my daughter!”

Abel backhanded the older man with his fist.

He fell.

“Dad!” Amelia lunged forward. Cole had to grab her by the waist to stop her from throwing herself at Abel.

“Stop it—” he hissed, pinning her to his side with one arm. “Leader. We can’t afford to have Hopkins injured.”

“Abel. Mr. Hopkins is understandably upset,” Chien Fou said evenly. “We are guests in his home. If you do not remember how to accept hospitality, I can call another guard and send you back to the ships.”

Chien Fou’s voice was soft and amicable, his words reasonable, but Abel turned a sickly shade of green. “Yes, Leader.” He reached out to help Hopkins up. “Pardon, sir, I apologize for lifting my hand to you.”

“Now, since we all understand our roles here, please escort the mayor and Mr. Hopkins to his suite for the night.”

“I’m not budging,” Hopkins insisted, gingerly touching his jaw where the skin was turning dark red, “until you give me an explanation for this. Why have you invaded my house?”

“Mr. Hopkins, of course. Let me apologize. You don’t know who I am, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Chien Fou went on. “I am called Chien Fou, and my organization, the Global Freedom Front, is destroying the economic stranglehold the United States has on the rest of the world.”

“You’re nothing but a filthy terrorist.” Hopkins coughed.

Chien Fou laughed. “Ah, but, sir, one country’s terrorist is another country’s liberator.”

“So what do you want with me and my family?”

“With your help, we will transform a fleet of your yachts into floating bombs.”

“Floating—” Amelia choked out.

“Floating bombs?” Hopkins repeated. “What in the devil’s name are you talking about?”

“We will blow up a fleet of oil tankers off the East Coast. In doing so we will accomplish what no one else has ever done. Using your luxury yachts as weapons, we will destroy the U.S. economy.”

Chapter Four

An hour later, after Chien Fou and his guards had been shown to their rooms, the gray-eyed stranger who’d brought the terrorists to her home took Amelia’s arm and led her into her suite. Amelia wanted to scream and run, but she had nowhere to go and no one but the enemy to hear her cries.

And she was her father’s only protection.

Cole closed the double doors and surveyed her rooms. With a shake of his head and a harsh laugh, he turned those gray eyes on her. “Tough job, being a rich heiress.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Amelia said, horrified when her voice broke. She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye, doing her best not to falter beneath his icy glare.

He was unfazed by her puny effort at bravery.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same. She was definitely intimidated by him. She turned away. “I have to…” She gestured toward her bathroom.

He stalked over and pushed open the sliding mirrors that divided it from the rest of her suite. “Not until I check it out first.”

He stopped and turned. “After you, of course.”

Fear clutched at her throat as she walked past him. He was so tall, so—dominant. He made her luxurious suite seem small.

But then, the whole house seemed tiny, now that it was filled with dangerous, murderous men.

Chien Fou was in the luxurious guest suite right above hers. His guards had staked out the other bedrooms. All except Abel and Habib, who were sharing guard duty in front of her father’s suite.

Her father. He’d looked so fragile as the men had handcuffed him and led him away. She’d been at his side constantly since his heart attack, protecting him—from the stress of running a multimillion-dollar boat-building company, from curious friends who kept asking about his health, from anything that might trigger a second attack.

“I want to check on my father,” she said, crossing her arms as she faced Cole.

He was scanning every inch of the bath, and she was sure not one thing escaped his attention. Certainly not the telephone.