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  Sneak Peek of

  SURVIVE THE STORM

  Diana Duncan

  Prologue

  “We love because it’s the only true adventure.” ~ Nikki Giovanni

  Classified Covert Biological Research Laboratory

  Oregon Desert

  May 22, 1:00 p.m.

  Viper caressed the pistol at his hip as he clocked in after lunch. He’d worked here seven long months. Today he wouldn’t be clocking out.

  Neither would anyone else.

  He waited until all the scientists suited up before he drew the gun and attached the suppressor. His fellow guard dropped before he realized he’d been hit. The scientists’ limited visibility made them soft targets, and one round to the head instantly neutralized Dr. Vega. Dr. Reeves and Dr. Hopkins didn’t reach the intercom before he knocked them unconscious.

  Not their turn to die. Yet.

  Viper put on a biohazard suit. Releasing the lab’s air locks with Dr. Vega’s palm print took seconds. The retinal scan was more complicated, but the laser only required the correct eye ... not a living one.

  His hacked code accessed the vault, where he extracted two vials.

  He dragged the doctors inside, peeled off their hoods, then dropped liquid onto their skin. As he resealed the vial and eased it into a padded canister beside the unopened one, his glance flicked to his scarlet-stained glove.

  An eye for an eye.

  He walked out, then smashed the keypad, sealing the men inside with the monster they’d created.

  Justice.

  He decontaminated himself. Removed the suit. Isopropyl alcohol dumped into a trash can with a lit match torched the paper files. A specially-made USB drive wiped the system of all data ... including his existence.

  Shooting as he went, he left behind a string of blood-soaked bodies. At the exit, he timed the breach alarm to initiate in forty-eight hours.

  When he started his SUV, Viper expected a surge of triumph. But he felt nothing. Betrayal had killed his compassion. Pain had incinerated his humanity.

  His glance flicked to the canister strapped in place on the passenger seat as he drove into the barren central Oregon desert. The beginning of the ultimate end. A Memorial Day weekend nobody would forget.

  Judgment Day.

  Chapter 1

  Riverside, Oregon - May 24 11:00 a.m.

  Sabrina Matthews shuddered in the warm air as an eerily intent gaze crawled up the back of her neck.

  Again.

  She sent a wary glance behind her. Smiled tightly. Twit. Of course she was being watched. Two hundred people were assembled on the lawn beside the hospital. The administrator introduced her, and applause crested. She resisted wiping damp palms on her red silk sheath. Don’t screw up. Her stomach jittered as she walked toward the podium. Don’t barf. She ascended the stairs. Don’t fall on your ass and give your coworkers more ammo for blonde jokes.

  Public speaking ... argh. About as much fun as a gyno exam.

  “G-good morning.” Staring at reporters, news cameras, the sea of faces, she stumbled over the greeting. Then her attention focused on her father, sitting in the front row. Sabrina locked wobbly knees. She’d twerk through the hospital wearing nothing but a rhinestone g-string before she’d fail in front of the iron-willed trauma surgeon. “I’m Sabrina Matthews, head Child Life Specialist here at Mercy Hospital.” She cleared her throat. “On behalf of my late grandfather, Senator William ‘Filibuster Bill’ Vaughn, thank you for attending the ground-breaking for our new pediatric wing.” As her voice evened, Dr. Wade Matthews nodded approval.

  Sabrina’s glance swept over coworkers, neighbors, and friends—including Maureen, Bailey, and Zoe O’Rourke who were sitting beside her father—then lingered on the empty chair. The now-ragged Reserved card fluttered forlornly in the breeze.

  Did you really think Grady would come?

  Her heart fisted. She’d also thought he’d be there when she’d stood shivering in the bitter March wind beside her granddad’s coffin. Not her first, or even her second, mistake where he was concerned. And because the word surrender wasn’t in her vocabulary, also not her last.

  But today wasn’t about what she wanted ... at least in her private life. She was here for Granddad and children in need. She gripped the podium. “I was a very strong-willed child.” She glanced at her father, his head angled in rueful acknowledgment. “Nothing frightened me. My adventures scared off four nannies and caused my share of childhood injuries. I broke my wrist when I was eight. At ten, I had to have surgery for a broken elbow. There was no time to prepare me for what would happen, and the fear was overwhelming. I’ve always wanted to work with children, but didn’t want to make life-or-death decisions as a physician. And I didn’t want to be an evil needle-wielding nurse.” That earned hearty chuckles from her coworkers and a hard stare from her father. Yeah, as a kick-ass trauma surgeon, he considered empathy a weakness. But it was her greatest strength.

  “Which is why I became a Child Life Specialist. Many of you may wonder what a CLS does. We’re certified professionals trained to ease children’s anxiety during medical situations, and support their loved ones.” Sabrina adjusted the microphone. “A child’s illness disrupts the entire family structure. Our programs help alleviate that stress and make it easier for everyone to cope.”

  Warmed to her crusade, she smiled at the rapt crowd. “We’re intermediaries for overwhelmed parents who don’t know the right questions to ask and busy medical staff who don’t always have time for extended family interaction.” She arched a brow at her father, receiving his stern “doctor face” in return. He still attempted to intimidate her into obedience the way he did his staff. Like that would happen. “U.N. translators have it easy compared to interpreting ‘doctor speak” for civilians. Not to mention their handwriting.”

  The audience chuckled again. Whew! “We also initiate therapeutic activities to help relieve the child’s anxiety and physical discomfort. So when the time arrives for treatment or surgery, we’ve prepared both the young patient and their family the best we can. Keeping children calm and unafraid makes their treatments not only more bearable for them, but also more medically effective, eliciting a faster healing rate.”

  Sabrina inhaled, her nerves making a sudden comeback. Her work meant everything to her, and her departmental funding depended on this pitch. “My grandfather, Senator Vaughn, devoted his life to children’s causes, and his estate was bequeathed to build a new pediatric wing. But after it’s built, we still have a long way to go in order to buy up-to-the-minute equipment and continue educating our staff. I urge each of you to consider a personal donation. Your pledge to Child Life Services will support so many children and their families during traumatic times.”

  Sabrina concluded with a video of her kids engaged in program activities and updates on their progress. Then she introduced several families who offered heartwarming testimonies.

  By the time the first symbolic shovel was thrust into the ground and cake and punch were served, she was giddy at the stream of envelopes being dropped into well-guarded strongboxes.

  A wide smile—her emotional cloaking device—held steady. But she couldn’t help searching for the one face she knew she wouldn’t see. The bitter awareness of being utterly alone in the crowd hollowed her insides. She shook it off.

  Woman up.

  She’d learned long ago to bury pain, to throw her all into her job and ignore the inner restlessness, the yearning ache.

  Sabrina finished taping a segment with Zoe for a special news feature, then said the requisite goodbyes before striding into the gloomy bowels of the concrete parking garage to fetch her silver Miata convertible. Surreptitious footsteps whispered behind her and she spun.

  Nothing but empty cars.

  Enveloped in uneasy silence, she was again assaulted by the skin-crawling sensation of being closely observed. Her stare probed dark corners as she scrambled inside the car and hit the lock. She’d experienced freaky heebie-j
eebies since Granddad had died two months ago. And recently someone had searched her apartment and office. She had no proof, other than the perception that her things weren’t positioned as she’d left them. Nothing the police could investigate. Only a creepy sense of violation.

  She didn’t see anyone as she drove outside, but kept the convertible top up anyway. Launching a new wing was a huge undertaking. Dad was probably right ... her reaction had to be stress or anxiety. Maybe lingering grief. Though wrenching sorrow over losing her vibrant grandfather had dulled somewhat, his passing seemed to have magnified her emotions.

  She maneuvered through traffic, brows scrunched in contemplation. The cerulean skyline in her rearview mirror would eventually be graced by a twelve-story pediatric complex. Her grandfather had left a tremendous legacy.

  What was her legacy?

  Her mischievous youth had been blamed for her father’s premature gray. But every challenge had molded her into the woman she’d become. She sighed. Perhaps she’d been too headstrong.

  Maybe her heart was stubbornly clinging to the one man she couldn’t have. And she’d never be truly happy.

  Memories of Grady O’Rourke haunted her, starting from when they were kindergarteners to their agonizing confrontation nine years ago ... before he’d abruptly left for the Army.

  After he’d mustered out and returned home, they’d spoken at neighborhood gatherings and run into each other at the hospital because of their jobs. As the O’Rourkes’ next-door neighbor and long-time friend, she’d talked to him at each of his brothers’ weddings. But every meeting had been painfully casual.

  Don’t ask, don’t tell.

  The last time she’d seen him was when Liam and Kate tied the knot in the glittering, candlelit, white-columned ballroom at Riverside Art Museum. A proud Murphy—sporting the same bowtie he’d been wearing at Con and Bailey’s wedding—had happily done his duty as best man by passing the ring at the proper time. The luminescent bride had worn a to-die for off-the-shoulder Vera Wang gown. Liam, ever the gilded-tongued charmer, had God-only-knew-how finagled the one and only Phil Collins to sing live during their reception.

  Sabrina shook her head. She and everyone else who knew Love-’em-and-Leave-’em Liam thought he’d never settle down. But he only had eyes for Kate. And oh, the tender, adoring way he looked at her, like she was the center of his universe.

  Sabrina’s heart clenched. The one thing she wanted in this world was for Grady O’Rourke to look at her like that.

  The one thing she despaired of ever having.

  He’d dropped off the face of the earth seven months ago, right after the long-delayed trial of the man who’d murdered his father.

  Where is he? Is he all right?

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Regrets? She had a butt-load. She was exceptionally successful professionally, but personally? Lost and lonely. A tree trapped in too-deep shade, yearning for sunlight. Producing no blossoms. No fruit. Never fulfilling her true purpose.

  A fast-moving sports car passed her, and Sabrina snapped to awareness. Crap, nothing like driving on autopilot. She checked her mirrors again. Scowled. Had that black sedan been tailing her since the hospital?

  She stomped the gas, changed lanes, and swung right.

  She watched all the way home. Nobody followed when she finally pulled into her apartment complex. Paranoid much?

  Fatigue weighed her limbs as she unlocked the sunny sanctuary of her apartment. She hadn’t taken a day off in ... wow ... several months. Sabrina dropped her purse and kicked off her heels inside the door. Waaay past time for a mental-health day. She’d bake her favorite apple crisp, brew a pot of Earl Grey, and curl up with a romance novel.

  She unzipped the restricting dress. Silk was an ass-pain to iron, and she wanted to hang it up ASAP. In red satin bra and panties, she meandered through her jungle of potted plants. Cool leaves brushed her body and she inhaled the earthy scent that carried her back to childhood. After Sabrina’s multiple nanny fiascos, Letty Jacobson, the Matthews’s neighbor who’d wrangled five kids of her own, had offered to babysit. Wild child Sabrina found a soul mate in the feisty senior. They’d shared wonderful times in Letty’s garden, leading to a lifelong love of growing things.

  Lost in anticipation of her stolen afternoon, Sabrina strolled into her bedroom. Inside the doorway, she froze, heartbeat thundering in her ears, dress dangling from numb fingers.

  Two strange men stood near the end of her bed, staring at her.

  With short, neat haircuts, tailored black suits and conservative ties, they could be any average businessmen.

  Except for the pistols pointed at her.

  A gasp dragged past the choking fear clawing up her throat. Mr. Tall With Sandy Hair motioned with his gun. “Scream and you die.”

  Clutching the dress like a shield, she swallowed terror. She’d never shown fear to friends or enemies. Now didn’t seem like a terrific time to start. “I’m not the screaming type.” She inhaled a quivering breath. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

  Stocky Blond laughed. Not a reassuring sound. “She has guts. She inherited more from the old soldier than those sharp brown eyes.”

  Sabrina started. Old Soldier? Granddad. She stared at the suppressors attached to the pistols. Her grandfather had been in politics for three decades. She’d heard his stories. Knew the reality behind the rhetoric. Granddad was a straight archer, but arrows in other quivers were bent. The crisp suits and neat haircuts suddenly made sense. These guys weren’t street criminals. Soulless eyes and steady hands with silenced guns. Professionals—who made people disappear.

  Who had Granddad crossed? “Are you FBI, CIA, NSA? What’s going on?”

  “Smart,” Sandy said. The men exchanged a glance that made her stomach lurch. Too smart. “Cooperate, and nobody has to get hurt.”

  The certainty she was about to die froze her blood. Cooperation be damned—they were here to execute her.

  Granddad, what did you do?

  “Give us what the old man sent you.”

  “Who?” she asked, stalling.

  “Too late to play dumb,” Stocky said. “Senator Vaughn mailed you something before he bought the farm. What was it?”

  If she lied, they’d kill her. But if she told the truth, they’d still kill her. The dress crumpled beneath her shaking fingers. They could toss her apartment and stage the murder as a burglary. Nobody would question it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His lips thinned. “Don’t play games. You won’t like the way we keep score.”

  Breathe. Delaying the inevitable was her only tactic. “Granddad didn’t send me anything. You can’t tell me your intel is a hundred-percent reliable. I know better.”

  Twenty minutes ago she’d worried about an unhappy future. Now, she had no future.

  Sandy’s icy stare pinned her like a butterfly on a specimen board. “If you don’t have what we need, you’re useless.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. Tasted blood. Should she lie and tell them she had the package, but it was in a different location? If she could get outside, she might be able to relay an SOS. Or escape.

  “And don’t try a bait-and-switch. One of us will stay with you, while the other goes for the package. If you’re lying ...” He sliced his finger across his throat.

  Her instincts screamed run! As Sabrina shifted, both men tensed. Their impassive eyes narrowed. Her heart tried to kick through her sternum. She’d be dead before she turned around. “I don’t know anything.”

  “I’m beginning to believe you. We’ve searched everywhere. If you had it, you’d have used it by now.” Stocky pointed his gun at her head. “And I’m out of patience.”

  Sabrina stared into the black barrel. No way to fight. Nowhere to run.

  Nothing would save her.

  She swallowed. If she had to die, her final defiance would be thwarting them. “I have nothing more to say.”

  Stocky smil
ed coldly. “How about goodbye?”

  She braced herself. Who would miss her? Her mom had died when she was four. Dad was married to his work. She and Letty were close but had their own lives.

  His finger tensed on the trigger, and her eyes slammed shut. Her life coalesced. A face rose in her mind.

  Her last thought was for the man who’d captured her heart. The man whose rejection had broken her heart. Would he grieve for the girl who’d been his friend? For the woman he’d refused to know?

  She’d never see Grady again.

  She’d die, without ever knowing what might have been.

  That hurt worse than anything her assailants could do to her.

  BOOM!

  Sabrina flinched as brilliant heat seared her closed lids. Then the bullet slammed into her head—and everything went black.

  More Books by Diana Duncan

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  24 Hour Countdown Series:

  Survive the Night

  Survive the Hunt

  Survive the Fire

  Survive the Storm

  Marriage & Mayhem! Series:

  Laws of Attraction

  Big Bad Wolfe

  Cross Country Christmas (no suspense & can be read as a holiday stand-alone)

  Paranormal Fantasy Romance:

  Sword of the Raven

  Devilish Devlin Series:

  Deal with the Devil

  Devil May Care

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Liam, Kate, and Murphy’s adventure.

  I’d like to chat with you for a moment about an important aspect of this story. If you needed an organ transplant, would you choose to have one?

  If so, please also choose to help others.

  In the U.S., 95% of people support the idea of organ donation, but only about 1/3 are registered donors. A gap of over 60% ... a huge problem.