“Hey, are you okay?”
She forced a grin. “Yeah, I… It all just hit me. We could have died. Brady could have killed us…What if he comes back here?”
“Then I’ll be ready for him. I won’t let him hurt you, Chelsea. I promise.” Jake reached for her cheek and dried a tear with his thumb. A warm tingle spun through her. His blue eyes held hers, lit with a hard-edged but reassuring determination. A sense of security flowed through her. After the way he’d come through for her already this afternoon, she had no trouble believing Jake could protect her from the escaped convict, should he return.
She studied Jake’s face, admiring the way the fire’s glow highlighted the rugged cut of his cheekbones and square jaw. Good Lord, but he was handsome.
“Who are you, Jake Connelly? And what put you at the right place at the right time to stumble into my nightmare?”
Black Ops Rescues: Putting lives—and hearts—on the line
Dear Reader,
It’s Jake’s turn! in Cowboy’s Texas Rescue, black ops pilot Jake Connelly takes on a Texas-size blizzard and an escaped convict in order to rescue girl-next-door Chelsea Harris. Chelsea’s worst nightmare, being kidnapped at gunpoint by an escaped murderer, turns to fairy tale when ultra-handsome Jake swoops in to save the day. As they survive a massive winter storm together and pursue an escaped felon, Chelsea and Jake learn lessons about unconditional love, sacrifice and redemption.
Cowboy’s Texas Rescue is the last book in my Black Ops Rescues series, and I’ve had so much fun creating these sexy and dangerous guys that I’m sad to see the series end. Action and adventure scenes are my favorite to write, and the Black Ops Rescues series gave me many opportunities to indulge that love. I hope you’ve enjoyed getting to know Alec, Daniel and Jake and seeing them find true love. These guys will always be near and dear to my heart. What’s coming up? Three Louisiana brothers. Three babies in jeopardy. Three emotional stories of lost love, edgy danger and the courage to give love a second chance. Watch for the Mansfield brothers coming soon!
Happy reading,
Beth Cornelison
About the Author
BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the university of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending down-time with her family.
She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA, or visit her website, www.bethcornelison.com.
Cowboy’s Texas
Rescue
Beth Cornelison
For Paul, who loves me just the way I am.
Thanks to Rita® winner and author extraodinaire Darynda Jones for lending her name to Chelsea’s neighbor and for sharing her dog Dooley for the story. Thanks, Darynda, for supporting the NOLA STARs!
Thanks to Jodi Israel, who won the chance to be a secondary character through the Brenda Novak Diabetes Auction for the Cure in May 2012!
Thanks also to Aida Alberto for allowing me to feature her cat Nela in the story.
Thank you to Carmen Parks, who won the chance to have her dog Sadie featured through the PAWS of Northeast Louisiana online auction.
Prologue
Jake Connelly crept down the corridor of the underground bunker, his senses on full alert and his Colt M4A1 assault rifle at the ready. When his black ops team reached the reinforced steel door at the end of the dim passageway, they moved silently into position—or as silently as they could while wearing CBRN suits. The military issue, head-to-toe protective clothing, designed to protect a soldier from chemical, biological, radiological or nuclear contamination, was cumbersome but critical for this op.
His team leader signaled for the men up front to work their magic and get them past the relatively low-tech security on the door. Or low-tech for a U.S. black ops team. Not so low-tech for a developing nation, even if that nation’s government had the means to kidnap a nuclear scientist and consign him to work in this hidden bunker developing a dirty bomb.
With the door breached, the team leader led the charge into the underground lab, barking in Farsi, “Everyone down! On the floor!”
“Now!” Jake shouted when the lab workers hesitated. “Hands on your head!”
One of the protective suit–clad workers tried to run, and one of Jake’s teammates stepped from the corridor to block the man’s escape. Jake tackled the fleeing worker, landing with a knee-jolting crash on the floor.
The team leader aimed his assault rifle at another man’s head. “On the floor!”
Jake quickly frisked the worker beneath him for weapons and, finding none, jerked the man to his feet. He bound the man’s hands behind him and led the lab tech into the corridor with a rifle muzzle between the man’s shoulder blades.
“Clear the room! Let’s get ’em to the helo.” The team leader whipped out a riot cuff and bound the wrists of the lab worker he had pinned to the floor. “All right, guys, set the fireworks.”
“Move!” Jake shouted in Farsi when his captive resisted. Grabbing the man’s arm, he ran, hauling the combative lab tech behind him. The rest of the team was on Jake’s heels as he sprinted back down the tunnel they’d just cleared of guards and out into the predawn darkness.
Their driver was waiting in an armored SUV, and the team piled into the vehicle, shoving their captives in first, then crowding onto the bench seats, even as their driver hit the gas. They tore away from the nondescript brick building that hid the entrance to the underground bunker, leaving the last two team members to follow in a second vehicle once the C4 and detonators were set.
Their SUV sped through the night-darkened desert the short distance to the helicopter that would get them all out of Dodge. Jake’s copilot, Bruster, had the helo’s turbines whirring, the rotor blade spinning. The bird was ready to take off.
The doors of the SUV popped open as their driver skidded to a stop, and the team disgorged from the vehicle, shoving the captive laboratory workers toward the helicopter.
“All yours, cowboy!” the team leader called to Jake as Jake handed off his prisoner and climbed in the pilot’s seat. “I want us in the air the second the rest of the team gets here.”
“Roger that,” Jake replied, tugging off the hood and breathing mask of his CBRN suit and checking the helo’s controls. When everything was set, he peered through the windshield, searching the night for his teammates’ vehicle. Under his breath he muttered, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Hurry, guys.”
“Connelly,” Bruster shouted over the noise of the turbine, “HQ radioed earlier for you. You had an emergency call from the States.