The Impossible Alliance

One agent is already missing, and now the U.S. government's most confidential secret is in danger of falling into a power-hungry dictator's hands.

The top-secret agents of ARIES
are the world's only hope.

Agent Jared Sullivan:
The ex-search-and-rescue specialist thought he'd left his high-risk world behind, but when unexpectedly reunited with a face from the past, he found himself wrapped in a web of danger more perilous than he'd ever imagined.

Samuel Hatch:
The wise ARIES director knew that only one man could bring his agent home alive and solve the mystery of the stolen gems. He would do whatever was necessary to convince Jared Sullivan to take the mission. Even withhold the truth…

Dr. Roman Orloff:
Officially, the American-educated neurologist had returned to Rebelia to heal the countless wounded victims of General DeBruzkya's brutality. But he was also part of an intricate ARIES plan to save their agent—and possibly the world.

and finally…

Dr. Alex Morrow:
The missing operative has finally been found, but what dangerous secret is the good doctor hiding?

Dear Reader,

This month we have something really special in store for you. We open with
Letters to Kelly
by award-winning author Suzanne Brockmann. In it, a couple of young lovers, separated for years, are suddenly reunited. But she has no idea that he's spent many of their years apart in a Central American prison. And now that he's home again, he's determined to win back the girl whose memory kept him going all this time. What a wonderful treat from this bestselling author!

And the excitement doesn't stop there. In
The Impossible Alliance
by Candace Irvin, the last of our three FAMILY SECRETS prequels, the search for missing agent Dr. Alex Morrow is finally over. And coming next month in the FAMILY SECRETS series:
Broken Silence,
our anthology, which will lead directly to a 12-book stand-alone FAMILY SECRETS continuity, beginning in June. In Virginia Kantra's
All a Man Can Be
, TROUBLE IN EDEN continues as a rough-around-the-edges ex-military man inherits a surprise son—and seeks help in the daddy department from his beautiful boss. Ingrid Weaver continues her military miniseries, EAGLE SQUADRON, in
Seven Days to Forever
, in which an innocent schoolteacher seeks protection—for starters—from a handsome soldier when she mistakenly picks up a ransom on a school trip. In
Clint's Wild Ride
by Linda Winstead Jones, a female FBI agent going undercover in the rodeo relies on a sinfully sexy cowboy as her teacher. And in
The Quiet Storm
by RaeAnne Thayne, a beautiful speech-disabled heiress has to force herself to speak up to seek help from a devastatingly attractive detective in order to solve a murder.

So enjoy, and of course we hope to see you next month, when Silhouette Intimate Moments once again brings you six of the best and most exciting romance novels around.

Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

T
he thunder of an incoming chopper shattered the early-morning calm. Jared Sullivan eased up on his punishing stride and stared out over the rolling hills, instinctively searching the swath of red just beginning to bleed up into the distant sky. As he caught site of the chopper, apprehension locked in. Despite the fact that private aircraft occasionally drifted out of the designated flight lanes to and from Austin, he knew damned well this was no accidental flyby.

That bird was headed straight for the ranch.

Straight for him.

Not only was the growing silhouette a dead ringer for a UH-60, official U.S. military-black-ops paint job still intact, but today was Sunday. There was only one type of Company that came calling at the crack of dawn on the Lord's day—and only one man who'd dare to set foot on his ranch without an engraved invitation. And only one reason.

Resigned, Jared resumed his morning run, sprinting the final quarter mile of pasture separating the barbed-wire
fence line from the granite steps of the three-story mausoleum he'd inherited by default. By the time the Black Hawk landed, eight miles of exhaustion had almost dissipated.

Jared tugged off his T-shirt and used the ratty gray fabric to soak up the sweat dripping from his face. He hooked the shirt behind his neck, clamping onto the ends, as the chopper's side doors slid open. Sure enough, he recognized five out of six members of the subdued but hypervigilant security detail that bailed out to fan out around the bird as the engine powered down. He exchanged a brief nod with two as he waited for the ARIES director's stocky frame to lumber forth. Seconds later it did, the trademark rumples of Samuel Hatch's suit already creased firmly in place despite the hour.

Due to the gravity of the situation, Jared suppressed his welcoming grin. Hatch had no such compunction as he clapped his palm into Jared's outstretched hand and hauled him close for a brief, bone-jarring hug that belied the man's years. “Great, son, you're home.”

As if the man would have traveled all the way to Texas from his office at Langley without making damn sure he was. Jared's grin broke though. “Good to see you, sir.”

“Damned good, son.
Damned
good. But I thought I told you to call me Sam last month.”

He had. But then, they'd forged several agreements that day, hadn't they? The most significant of which was about to dissolve almost before the ink on his resignation had a chance to dry. Hoping to delay the inevitable, Jared gestured toward the main house. “Breakfast? The cook makes a mean skillet of
huevos rancheros.
”

The first rays of day glinted off Hatch's balding pate as he shook his head. “Wish I could, but I'm on a tight schedule. I'll just cut to the chase. I'm sure you know why I'm here.”

Jared sighed. “At least come inside.”

He'd be damned if he'd send Sam Hatch away with his hat in his hand in front of his own men. He had too much
respect for his old mentor, as well as the men standing by, discreetly marking time. To his surprise, Hatch nodded.

This
was
bad.

Jared led the way to the house. He shoved the double doors wide and stepped inside the marble foyer, wincing as his former boss openly cased the place as they crossed the room. Damn, but he had to get a decorator in quick—before someone knocked over the succession of vases and transformed the precious Sullivan heirlooms into a pile of ceramic shards.

“Nice place.”

He shrugged. “See something you like, take it with you.” It would save him the trouble of hosting one hell of a garage sale.

Hatch shook his head. “I'll pass. Rita left me enough dust collectors as it is.”

Jared reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door to the one room he'd decided not to change. He headed for the hand-carved walnut desk that dominated the center of the dimly lit room. His esteemed grandfather's desk and now his. But never his father's. He tossed his saturated T-shirt onto the leather blotter and nodded toward the matching armchairs.

“Seat? Coffee?”

“Neither.”

Evidently conversation was out, too, because an uncharacteristically uncomfortable silence locked in. Out of respect, Jared waited.

The old man finally sighed. “Something's come up.”

Jared hooked his thigh onto the corner of the desk, bringing his gaze down to his mentor's. “Figured as much.” He drew a deep breath. “Sir, while I appreciate the courtesy—”

“Then at least hear me out.”

Jared straightened instinctively. It wasn't the edge to the man's voice that gave him pause. He'd heard that plenty of times. It was something else. Something he'd never
heard before. Desperation. He studied Hatch's carefully schooled gaze and nodded.

Hatch sighed. “Look, son, I don't want to be here, either. But I need you. This job's right up your alley.” Hatch glanced at the armchairs, obviously reconsidering his initial refusal. He skimmed his hands over the cropped silver hair ringing his head as he sat, then dropped them into his lap. “An American geologist by the name of Alex Morrow disappeared while attending an environmental conference in Europe.”

Jared stiffened slightly as the name registered, then forced himself to relax before Hatch picked up on it.

Distracted or not, the man would. Rumpled suits and normally laid-back manner notwithstanding, Sam Hatch hadn't made it to the position of director of ARIES without surpassing damned near all the agency's operatives in cold, clear and calculating intellect.

“Why me?”

After all, if someone the agency had flagged was missing, why waste time tracking down a former agent like him when there were any number of active and capable search-and-rescue operatives at the CIA's disposal—SAR operatives
he'd
helped Hatch train?

“Because this isn't your standard rescue op. Morrow's one of us. Disappeared while on assignment.”

Regret seared through him. Hatch was right. That did change things. Unfortunately it didn't change enough.

Still, the irony of it.

That his mentor would show up on behalf of Alex Morrow, of all men. He wasn't surprised to discover Morrow was ARIES. The CIA often used scientists and businessmen to keep tabs on their respective communities. What better way to head off the transfer of potentially deadly information and valuable technology to the world's more heinous regimes? Hell, he should have made the connection when he crossed paths with Morrow three months before in Hatch's home—with Hatch out of town, no less. He
would have, too, had he not been so rattled by that damned phone call.

For a split second, he wondered if Hatch knew.

He discarded the suspicion just as quickly. If Hatch knew he and Morrow had connected, however briefly, he'd have used it as leverage. As it was, Jared didn't need to hear more. He couldn't afford to. Not with the guilt already kicking in.

“Sir…I can't.”

To his surprise, Hatch lurched to his feet. “The hell you can't. I'm here asking. You
can.
Dammit, I need a one-man insertion on this job and you're the best singleton I've got—or had.” Before Jared had a chance to react, much less open his trap, Hatch spun on his heel and stalked across the study in a steady, clipped line to the still-shuttered eight-foot windows on the far wall. He stopped short at the first and twisted the wooden slats. The now full-blown sunrise flooded in, chasing the dank shadows, as well as his grandfather's ghost, from the room. The stark light revealed the determination in Hatch's eyes as he turned. “Have you kept up since you left?”

Jared nodded.

“With General DeBruzkya?”

Again, he nodded. It didn't take a State Department stooge to keep abreast of Bruno DeBruzkya. The Rebelian dictator had led the nightly news since the day he'd murdered the entire Rebelian royal family five years earlier. Since then, the scourge of Eastern Europe had surpassed the world's current collection of ruling thugs in cunning and brutality.

To his surprise Hatch turned to the windows, stepping up to twist the second set of slats open. He stared out at the pasture and herd of Texas longhorns. “Before disappearing, Morrow received a message from a scientific colleague in Delmonico stating that DeBruzkya intended on spreading his tyranny and greed across the rest of Europe.
This colleague also swore the general had come up with a viable plan to accomplish his goals.”

Jared shifted his weight against the desk, his interest piqued despite his better judgment. If DeBruzkya had a plan, it had better involve the Midas touch. As far as he knew, there wasn't a village left in the war-torn nation the general hadn't already plundered, pillaged or razed. Jared waited for his former boss to turn around.

He didn't.

Odd. What was Hatch hiding?

“Morrow was supposed to link up with a colleague under the guise of an environmental conference in neighboring Holzberg. We know they connected at least once. Morrow's initial communiqué revealed that for several months, DeBruzkya has been ordering his thugs to steal on his behalf. There isn't a continent or a country that hasn't been hit. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies—you name it, he's stolen it. When Morrow failed two successive comm checks, we sent in a recon agent.” Hatch lifted the rod that controlled the blinds and snapped them shut, then flipped them open once more. “The agent discovered Morrow's colleague was dead. Murdered. Morrow had vanished.”

“How long since last contact?”

“Twenty-one days, six hours, forty-five minutes.”

Christ.

“I know what you're thinking. You're wrong.” Hatch continued to face the window as he shut the blinds a third time, then opened them. “Five hours ago one of our operatives learned Morrow was still alive and is being held in DeBruzkya's private compound. A renovated castle located in the north of Rebelia. Heavily fortified and heavily forested. Mountains. This one won't be easy—even for you.”

“Proof of life?”

Silence.

“You do have it?”

Again, silence.

“Sir—”

Hatch slammed the control rod against the window and spun around. Something Jared had never seen before flashed through his old mentor's eyes as the wooden slats continued to slap against the glass panes, and this time it wasn't desperation.

“Alex Morrow is
not
dead.”

For the fourth time in ten minutes, silence locked in.

No matter what Sam Hatch claimed, this was more than some deep-cover agent trapped out in the cold, possibly for good. Jared waited until the blinds stilled, until the fire smoldering in Hatch's dark-brown eyes cooled. Despite the fact that he no longer worked for the man, he owed Hatch more than he could ever repay and they both knew it. For that reason alone, he chose his words with care. “You want to tell me what's really going on?”

“Can't. Not now.” Hatch shrugged. “Later, perhaps.”

Perhaps.

Hatch expected him to risk his hide, Morrow's, as well—
if
indeed it was still in one piece—on a flimsy ‘perhaps'? Jared stared into that iron gaze once more and held it. He knew better than most how hard Hatch took the loss of an agent. But ten-to-one Morrow was already dead and they both knew it. As a military general, DeBruzkya had subscribed to the school of slaughter first, ask questions later. Since his graduation to dictator, the bastard had taken the motto to new heights—and even grislier horrors.

Dammit, Morrow was
dead.

But what if he wasn't?

Despite Jared's efforts to slough off the insidious whisper, it continued to cling. The doubt refused to surrender. Another minute, and he could feel his resolve buckling beneath it. Christ, why not? A one-man op, Hatch had said. Screw the odds. He'd be in and out before DeBruzkya even knew he was there. If he did get caught, so what? It was a better way to go than the path the good Lord had already carved out for him. Besides, if he did succeed, he'd kill
two birds with one stone. Repay two men. Sam Hatch
and
Alex Morrow.

The geologist had obviously kept his word. It was time for Jared to return the favor. While he still could.

His decision must have shown on his face, because Hatch launched into the mission brief before Jared so much as nodded. “Good. You'll leave with me. I've got a C-141 standing by at Lackland, secure comm link already on the plane. Decide on what you need in the air and call it in. It'll be waiting for you by the time you touch down in Germany. Once you extract Morrow, you'll need to hole up for a few weeks. Let things cool off before you risk executing part two of the mission.”

“Part
two?
”

Hatch nodded. “You'll team up with Morrow and complete the original mission. We've added a few more pieces to the puzzle since Morrow's disappearance. At first we assumed DeBruzkya was stealing gems to boost his coffers. It turns out he's also obsessed with an ancient Rebelian legend regarding some mysterious “Gem of Power.” You can memorize the file on the flight and fill Morrow in. If there's a kernel of truth behind this legend, I want you two to find it. And then I want you both to stop this bastard.”

Just like that, Jared's decision reversed itself. “No.”

Hatch stiffened. Blinked.

“I'm sorry, sir. I can't accept the—”

“Dammit, son, you just
did.
I could see it in your eyes.”

That was before he knew this was more than a simple grab and bag, and the old man knew it. “You didn't let me finish. I'll do the snatch. But immediately after, I leave. I can't hang around.”

“What if Morrow's injured?”

Crap. His gut had been clenched so tightly since the moment the chopper had set down, he hadn't considered that. See? He was already slipping. If Morrow was alive, the man was bound to be injured—beaten and tortured within
an inch of his life. Why else was Hatch so desperate that
he
do the snatch?