Terms of Surrender Kylie Brant MILLS & BOON
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Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today! Or simply visit Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you. Table of Contents Kylie Brant is the award-winning author of more than twenty novels. When she’s not dreaming up stories of romance and suspense, she works as an elementary teacher for learning-disabled students. Kylie invites readers to check out her website at www. kyliebrant.com. You can contact her by writing to PO Box 231, Charles City, IA 50616, USA, or e-mailing her at [email protected]. For Kasen James, my precious second grandson, whose smiles light up my heart. Acknowledgements A special thanks to Mark Pfeiffer and Jeff McQueen, weapons experts at Weapons_Info loop, for the wealth of knowledge you share every day and for that final clue that tied my plot together. You guys are amazing! And a big thank-you to my experts on hostage negotiation and SWAT: Jay Chase and Jerry MacCauley, director of Personal Protection Concepts, for your patience answering questions and helping me understand the basics; Sgt Michael Fanning (ret), NYPD Hostage Negotiation Team, for walking through my plot with me to get the details right; and Kyle Hiller, Captain, Special Response Team, for your generosity of time, detailed explanations and invaluable assistance. You’re my heroes, every one of you! Chapter One Dace Recker donned the Tac-Vest with its heavy ceramic plates and fastened it. Grabbing his bag of gear out of the car’s trunk, he slammed the lid and jogged toward the police tape establishing the outer perimeter around the bank. Ducking beneath it, he flashed his shield at the cop stationed nearest him and began to shoulder his way through the sea of law enforcement officers toward the Negotiations Operation Center, a converted ambulance, parked nearby. “Dace!” Turning, he recognized Jack Langley from Alpha Squad, the SWAT unit his Hostage Negotiation Team was assigned to. Jack’s limp was noticeable in his hurry. The injury he’d sustained in the explosion at the Metrodome last month still had him on the disabled list. At that moment, however, HNT leader, Bradley Lewis, stepped out of the NOC mobile unit and spotted Dace, waving him over. Jack caught up with him as he headed toward Lewis and said urgently, “Your new partner’s here.” “Yeah?” Dace craned his neck, but could see no one standing near the commander. “Who is it? Have you met him yet?” “Her. And she’s—” “Recker, where the hell is your team responding from, Siberia?” Lewis’s familiar impatient tone succeeded in snapping Dace’s attention from Langley. “What’s the situation?” “Bank branch with twelve regular employees, ten of them confirmed inside. Undetermined number of customers, but witnesses suggest at least eight. Someone managed to press the crisis button, which alerted police at 9:21 a.m. Subject went barricade shortly after.” Dace checked his watch. 10:12. “Shots fired upon entry, and again fifteen minutes later,” Lewis continued. “No visual yet. The blinds were pulled shortly after the first shots were fired.” “Injuries?” “Nothing confirmed. The situation’s locked down with a full perimeter established. Your new partner’s inside the mobile unit, trying to establish contact. You’ll be primary, but she’s got plenty of experience, too. The phone lines have been disconnected. The gunman did accept the throw phone, but hasn’t answered it yet.” Dace nodded as Lewis turned and strode toward the command center, a sleek black specially equipped RV. The man would serve as their command center liaison, exchanging information with the SWAT commander. As Dace reached for the door to the NOC unit, his progress was halted by Jack’s hand on his arm. “Like I was saying…” “A woman partner. Yeah, I heard you. Eat your heart out, buddy.” Dace shot a grin at his friend. “When you get back on duty, all you have to look forward to is Bazuk.” The eerily silent tobacco-chewing Cajun was Jack’s personal
