Gwen Shaw overhears refugee teenagers discussing a plot to rival 9/11, but her Arabic is rusty. Besides, who is going to believe the sketchy information from an apron-wearing newcomer, even though she’d recently left the Army as a seasoned officer?
Jonathan O’Neil, new to the Dallas Guardian Security Center, knows a terrorist plot when he sees one on the tempting waitress’ computer. To find out the details of the plan and to stop them, he sets out to seduce her, only to find that nothing is what it seems.
Justice for Gwen blends Susan Stoker's hot men from her Badge of Honor series with the sexy men from my Guardian Elite series into a heart-pounding romantic suspense.
I do a lot of research for every book and this novella was no different.
Click on the image above to watch the original American Airline Headquarters building be demolished.
While trying to decide what the crisis in Justice for Gwen would be, I considered several famous structures in Dallas. By selecting the American Airlines headquarters, it gave me a tie in as the U.S.A. revisited one of the most traumatic days in our history on the 15th Anniversary of 9/11.
Quin looked clueless, and Jonathan had no idea who any of these people were or what the hell she was talking about.
Gwen appeared with their food and hip checked the woman out of the way. She set the plates on the table and called out to everyone, “Show’s over folks. Go back to your food and drinks.”
She turned to the woman and Gwen fisted her hands in her hips. “Bitsy, what the hell? You know better than to bring your dirty laundry into my restaurant.”
“Well, I tried to get into their office, but it’s like Fort Knox.” Bitsy opened the gigantic yellow purse and started to dig. “Besides, this isn’t your restaurant. Suze and James will be back soon.”
Gwen cocked her head. “It is mine right now, since they left me in charge.” Under her breath, she added, “Damn it all.”
Jonathan flipped the leather tab that secured his handgun in the holster at his side. If she pulled a gun out of there, he’d be ready. A glance toward the standing cops revealed they’d done the same.
Bitsy lifted her head and wagged a single key on a ring. “This fucking thing doesn’t work anymore.” The irate woman vibrated. “Because if had it worked, I would have killed that husband-fucking secretary of theirs.” She glared lasers at Quin and Jonathan.
Then Bitsy pulled a pink Glock 26 from the outside pocket of her purse.