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Set Up with the Agent
Lori L Harris
Table of Contents
LORI HARRIS has always enjoyed competition. She grew up in southern Ohio, showing Arabian horses and Great Danes. Later she joined a shooting league, where she competed head to head with police officers – and would be competing today if she hadn’t discovered how much fun and challenging it was to write. Romantic suspense seemed a natural fit. What could be more exciting than writing about life-and-death struggles that include sexy, strong men?
When not in front of a computer, Lori enjoys remodelling her home, gardening and boating. Lori lives in Orlando, Florida, with her very own hero.
For Bobbie Laishley and Bill Laishley And for the Harris Family: Trip, Kathy, Gracie, Mike, Nichele, Brett, Connor, Dillon, John, Billy, Patsy and,
most of all, for Bobby. Love You All!
FBI Special Agent Mark Gerritsen ripped his shirttails from his trousers. It was just past 3:30 a.m. on a hot July night, and he was standing on the street in front of a modest home in a quiet Frederick, Maryland, suburb.
“Has the lab determined how much of the chemical weapon is missing?” Mark kept his voice low. As he stripped off his shirt, he glanced at Special Agent Colton Larson, who stood several feet away.
Larson was also down to his T-shirt. “They’re calling it sizable.”
Mark offered a terse smile. “In other words they don’t know, and they’re trying to cover their asses.”
He suspected it was also the reason the FBI hadn’t been alerted of the theft until the middle of the night—because those in charge of security, of protecting the people from the kind of occurrence that had just taken place, had been scrambling to protect their jobs instead of the American public.
Leaving his shirt hanging over the open car door, Mark grabbed the heavy body armor off the seat and settled it over his shoulders. He shrugged the protection into position before pressing down on the Velcro straps. The rest of the counterterrorism unit had been contacted but was unlikely to arrive in time, which meant Mark and Larson would be working with a local SWAT team.
The target was a home two doors down from their current location. Mark scanned the front of the residence. Except for the dim front porch light, the small, brick ranch house with peeling trim paint had been dark when they’d arrived and remained that way.
The owner, Dr. Harvey Thesing, made a good wage, but from the brief background information Mark had obtained en route, over the past year Thesing had been spending his money on environmental causes. Which should have tipped off his superiors that no matter what his credentials were, Thesing wasn’t the best chemist to work on MX141.
Along with the rundown on Thesing, Mark had also received one on the chemical weapon. Though fairly stable in the powdered form, once dissolved in a liquid and vaporized,
