A beautiful young American journalist is missing. FBI Special Agent James Kelly is assigned to the case. He figures out that the beautiful journalist is in hiding in Costa Rica. He goes there and finds her, and just in time. Her ex-fiance, Simon Fox, aka Darkhorse, has just figured out where she is and wants her silenced, permanently.
This third book in the Special Agent Series is the most thrilling in the series to date, and James Kelly, well, he’s the kind of special agent I’d want involved in my case if I were in serious trouble. In a romantic suspense thriller that takes you from NYC to Costa Rica to Washington, DC, The Darkhorse Conspiracy promises to keep you intrigued and on the edge of your seat. It’s available NOW at Red Rose Publishing! PURCHASE LINK: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=477
from Red Rose Publishing!
THE DARKHORSE CONSPIRACY
The Special Agent Series: Book 3
Betty Ann Harris
PURCHASE LINK: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=477
“I’m sorry James. This has been a very difficult time for me. Maybe I’ve been acting overly-paranoid, and I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that and tell me the whole story?”
The two sat back down and James gently wiped the tears from Stephanie’s beautiful face. He took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled ever so slightly at him, took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell him a story.
“Simon was what most women would consider to be a catch of a lifetime. I was young and inexperienced when I met him, about three years ago. In the beginning, he treated me like a princess. We had quite the whirlwind love affair. After a year or so, Simon had me move into his mansion at the stables. Right after I moved in, I noticed some rather strange things going on.”
“Well, there were several bodyguards always around, armed. I knew he was wealthy and raised Derby winning thoroughbreds, but to have armed guards around seemed extreme to me. Although we were getting serious and contemplating marriage, Simon never spoke of his parents or family. He refused to meet my family. And he became quite secretive, and would get angry if I questioned him about anything. One night, very late, I woke up and Simon had still not come up to bed. I got up and went downstairs to find him. The door to his study was closed but I could hear him talking on the phone. I wondered whom he was speaking to at that hour, so I stood by the door and listened. For a good deal of the conversation he was speaking in some middle-eastern dialect, to someone he called Assam.”
“How do you know it was middle-eastern?”
“I spent two months in Afghanistan as a journalist.”
“I’m sorry, go on.”
“Well, I listened intently for about ten minutes, and from what I could tell, Simon was masterminding a plot to blow up several nuclear plants on the eastern seaboard. I was shaken to my core, realizing that Simon was not who I thought he was.”
“You didn’t confront him, did you?”
“God no. I crept back upstairs before he or one of the guards caught me lurking outside the door. When he finally came up to bed, I pretended to be sound asleep, but he seemed, hmm, what I would refer to as turned on by the power of the plans he was making, and he had been drinking too. He woke me up and forced himself on me. I told him I was too tired for sex, and he slapped me hard.”
“I’m sorry Stephanie.”
“He apologized the next morning, but every instinct I had inside told me to get the hell out of there, but I decided to secretly find out more about Simon; who he really was and what his plans were, and then report him to the authorities.”
“That took guts.”
“Yes, I guess it did. I contacted a foreign Saudi correspondent friend of mine who checked out Simon and informed me that his real name was Ahmad Assir Jusaf from Kuwait. His father is an oil sheik and Simon’s wealth was money his father gave him to come to this country and develop the thoroughbred horse farm and stables, which are actually more of a front than a legitimate business. Gosh James, can we take a little break and have a drink or something?”
James followed Stephanie into the kitchen and she poured them each a glass of wine. Even though James was more of a fine aged scotch kind of man, he accepted and drank the fine Merlot she offered him. They returned to the living room and sat down once again, and Stephanie continued with her story.
“Late one night Simon failed to come to bed and I again went downstairs to snoop around, going first to the study, where I hoped to listen to him on the phone and find out more about his plans. When I approached the study, the door was open and the lights were off. Simon was no where to be seen or heard. I went to the garage and his car wasn’t there. I realized that Simon wasn’t at home and it was after two o’clock in the morning. I went back to the study and turned a light on dimly. Usually the door to the study was closed and locked, even when Simon wasn’t in there. I figured he had information in the room that he didn’t want me to see or know about.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about what you did. You certainly have a lot of nerve Stephanie. So did you find anything interesting?”
“Oh yeah. There was a journal on the bookshelf mixed in with other books. I pulled it out and hurriedly thumbed through the pages, looking for anything that mentioned a plot or scheme for some type of sabotage or attack. It didn’t take long for me to find something. On the first page in his handwriting were the words, “Darkhorse Conspiracy, and on the next page, right there in black pen with penciled drawings was the plan I was looking for. There was a list of about twelve names of people Simon had gathered together, a group of unsavory terrorist types, from around the world. I recognized some of the people as those who don’t like our country and what it stands for. The plan was to have dirty bombs set off by cell phones in New York City’s subway system, and also plans for blowing up three nuclear plants on the East coast, at the same time to “have a more significant effect.
“Oh my God. What did you do?”
“I copied the pages from the journal and quickly went to return it to its proper place on the bookshelf. But I ran into a bit of a problem.”
“What was that?”
“When I went to replace the journal in the original spot on the shelf, I noticed the books near where the journal stood on the shelf had fallen down, and I wasn’t sure I put the journal back exactly in the right place. Then I saw headlights coming up the driveway, so I immediately turned out the light, left the room with my copies and ran upstairs. I got in bed and pretended to be asleep.”
“What did you do with the copies?”
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