ATF agent Rowan Bronson is chasing the secrets of a renowned televangelist and his connections to organized crime. The only allies she has are her dog Zeus and Garrett Somersby, a detective who's reluctant to believe her. Zeus is a sure thing, but can she trust Garrett enough to let him help her?
ATF agent Rowan Bronson has evidence Reverend Mark Paul Jameson, head of the New Freedom Absolution Center, is involved in illegal activities with crime boss Roland Metzner. Jameson has been using his organization to launder dirty money for Metzner and has collaborated with him in sending men posing as missionaries to South America to smuggle firearms into the US. But before she can turn over her information, Rowan is betrayed by one of her fellow agents and goes into hiding. It isn’t long before Metzner’s right-hand man finds her and tries to kill her. Rowan wins the fight and flees the scene, only to run straight into the arms of Garrett Somersby, detective with the Knoxville Police Department Criminal Investigation Division. Garrett has been following Metzner’s man, and when he sees blood on Rowan, offers aid. With the help of her dog, Zeus, Rowan steals his SUV and takes off. From that point, Garrett, Metzner, Jameson, and agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives are hot on Rowan’s trail. Garrett is the first to locate her, but finds his life jeopardized by the others tracking Rowan. The two team up in hopes of retrieving the information and getting it to the proper person within ATF while being pursued by a religious zealot, crime boss, and ATF agent, all with personal agendas concerning Rowan’s demise.
Warm, sticky fluid seeped into her clothing, saturating her upper chest. With a repulsed shudder, Rowan closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down—her breathing to return to normal,
her thoughts to focus. The man’s weight crushed her, creating the panicky sensation she could not get enough air into her lungs. But she didn’t have the energy to shove him away. After several
agonizing moments, she could stand it no more. She wormed her hands beneath his shoulders and pushed up. His large body moved slightly, then settled back over her, feeling heavier than before. She expelled a frustrated breath. If she didn’t get this guy off, he would suffocate her.
“Zeus,” Rowan croaked. She listened for a response, but couldn’t hear anything over the loud ringing in her ears. Perfect. If she didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen, she would probably
stroke out. She gathered as much air into her lungs as she could but only managed to produce a weak, “Zeus.” Although she needed his help, she was thankful she had put him in the back yard. He would be dead by now if she hadn’t. She craned her neck and saw a muddy snout pushing against the screen door in the kitchen. He’d been digging underneath the shed again. That
explained why he hadn’t heard all the commotion going on inside.
“Come here, boy.”
The Weimaraner nudged the screen door open and bounded into the living room. He stopped short when he saw the man,
baring his teeth in a fierce growl.
“Help me, Zeus.”
Zeus moved close and sniffed the side of Rowan’s face. As his nose tracked toward the man, Rowan pushed up with her
arms, showing the dog what she wanted.
“Pull him off, Zeus.”
Zeus snagged the man’s jacket sleeve and tugged. The body barely budged. He dug his claws into the floor and pulled back. The heavy torso shifted.
“Good boy.” She twisted her upper body as she jostled against the man and inhaled deeply after Zeus dragged
him off her chest. It felt good to be able to breathe normally. She pushed the corpse off her lower abdomen and legs, then sat for a moment, eyes closed, body shaking.
Zeus positioned himself between Rowan and the man, and nudged her shoulder with his nose. She hugged the dog, saying into his fur, “You’re a good boy.” Zeus licked her face.
Rowan scooted away from the body and lunged to her feet. The man lay on his stomach, his face turned to one side. A knife,pooled in blood, protruded from the back of his neck. She and the
dog stared down at one open eye, looking at nothing. She forced her gaze away and willed her mind to focus on the problem at hand, not what had just occurred.
Rowan hurried to the front windows and peeled back the edge of the curtain, searching for anyone who might be waiting for the man lying on the floor. The only thing out of order was a
large, gold-colored Cadillac in front of her drive, its golden rims gleaming in the sun. She swore to herself. The damn vehicle blocked her in; she wouldn’t be able to take her car. She glanced back at the dead man and decided the glitzy Caddy probably belonged to him; those pretentious rims matched the bright suit he wore. She closed the curtain and crossed over to the other side, tugged the heavy cloth away from the window, and studied the
street. No one appeared to be inside the vehicle or lurking about, something she found disconcerting. The guy on the floor looked the sort to have a driver, and in her experience, these people always traveled in pairs.
She returned to the body and searched through the dead man’s pockets for his car keys but couldn’t find them. Dammit. It’d be just her luck he had locked them inside the Caddy and she just bet its access required a code instead of a key. If so, she’d have to find another car to take.
After Rowan locked the front door, she rushed to her bedroom closet, where she worked a couple of loose floor planks free. She withdrew her emergency backpack and took a moment to check inside, make sure her fake ID was there along with enough money to get her to another location.
She grabbed the dog’s leash and clipped it on. “Come on, Zeus. We’ve got to get out of here.” At the door, she turned around and looked at the dead man. Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked
them away. She had just killed her would-be killer. She walked back to the man, pulled her foot back, and kicked
him in the side. “You shit.”