Chapter 1 - The Kitchen at Crown Point
The aftermath of the forty-one-second neutralization left the four intruders groaning on the cold stone floor of the Crown Point kitchen. Rain continued to hammer the tall windows, blurring the gardens outside, while the scent of rosemary and dish soap hung heavily in the air. Kneeling beside the leader, I felt his sharp intake of breath as the yellow overhead light hit my eyes. The man’s face went pale, his pupils expanding with a horrifying suddenness as an ancient, buried memory surged to the surface. "Thimble," he rasped, his voice trembling with a terror that far exceeded his physical injuries. "You're... you were dead." That single word—my code name from an elite, off-the-books federal intelligence unit dissolved eight years ago—shattered the quiet life I had built as Ronan Gallagher’s soft-spoken, low-profile maid-wife. I didn't confirm or deny the title. Instead, I calmly retrieved the cream-colored envelope from the long oak table, retrieved the disassembled weapon parts from the sink basin, and glanced up at the hidden, independently wired camera above the pantry arch. The primary security system had been sabotaged from within, but that single lens had recorded every frame of the invasion, every face, and every word. As footsteps thundered down the grand hallway, announcing the arrival of Ronan and his heavily armed security detail, I smoothly smoothed my apron, wiped my hands, and slid into the shadow of the devoted, frightened wife before the heavy oak doors burst open.
