All Chapters of Stain on the Earth book Two of the MIT2 Series: Chapter 41 - Chapter 49

Balancing tentatively on the ball of her foot, Lizzy poked her head through the canopy of leaves. Wyoming was truly breathtaking. Silence surrounded her. Not true silence as she could still hear insects buzzing, the leaves rustling in the afternoon breeze and a bleating sheep answered by three more. The distant hills looked so clear in the waning light, the golden rays contrasting with shadowed crevices in the craggy mountainside. She missed climbing trees; she still loved it.Her head sank back below the branches, and Lizzy looked down. The branch she balanced on bent under her weight, and she transferred her foot to a sturdier limb. The new branch instantly disintegrated, almost melting into thin air. Before she could comprehend her predicament, she fell to the earth, bouncing through and over battering limbs. Just before she slammed into the ground, strong arms caught her and they fell, rolling down a steep hill at a dizzying pace.A scarlet blur filled her vision a

The mattress creaked, waking Lizzy. She didn’t move, preferring to savor the safe moment. Cocooned in John’s bed and his love, she’d slept through the night and woken feeling at peace. It wasn’t quite morning, the hint of dawn scrubbed over by the sound of a storm sweeping in. Lizzy reached behind and felt the empty warmth as she heard John slam the window shut.Ray shifted next to her chest, and Lizzy snuggled deeper. “What time is it?”“Four thirty. I might as well get up; I need to check on the animals. This storm looks nasty,” he said before brushing his teeth at the sink.Lizzy dozed until the bed dipped, and he pulled his boots on.“Do you need help?”“I’m all good, Lizbug. If you feel like getting up though, I hear Abby banging around in the kitchen. I think Gabe woke her.”The wind howled as rain pelted against the window. “Five more minutes,” s

“The storm could’ve damaged the phone lines,” Donnie yelled over the thrumming blades. Max ignored the logic, knowing in his gut that his family was in trouble and Johnny was either disabled or dead.His teammate should’ve made mincemeat out of Muller’s slimy ass and contacted Max by now. None of the mobile phones were being answered, and the landlines were dead.The colonel’s orders were to allow local law enforcement and the FBI to run the mission. But if Max was the first to arrive, he’d ignore that directive, just as he’d ignored the orders to stay on base until SOCOM briefed a fully manned black ops team.Defying orders, Donnie and Max threw on battle rattle and relied on a friend and chopper pilot to give them a ride. Now MIT scrambled to cover their men’s asses. They’d departed on a mission on American soil that was not fully authorized. Max didn’t give a shit. His pregnant wife and child w

John kept to his word. Two days later and he was ready to be checked out of the hospital. Lizzy giggled as he waddled over to the bathroom. The back of his gown left little to her imagination.“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. You’d think they’d have a larger gown for taller patients.”“I don’t think it’s your height, baby.” Lizzy laughed. “You look like the incredible hulk, hulking out of teeny human clothes.”Donnie walked in, grinning at John’s bare ass. “And the beard gives him a yeti vibe.”“I need clean clothes.”Lizzy spent a day in the ward, under observation. Charlie was kind enough to bring Lizzy a change of clothes the day before, but she’d mistakenly packed an old pair of John’s pants that no longer fitted around his muscled waist.“Relax, big man. I have your lumberjack clothing ready and waiting.”&ld

 Make sure to check out “Fire in the Knight,” book three of the Mobile Intelligence Series. Find out what happens to Charlotte Quinn and Donnie Wilson! Saint Julian’s, Malta With no sign of potential witnesses in the hall, the man pulled the apartment door shut with a soft click. He adjusted his hoodie and ran down the steps before stepping onto the damp pavement. The sun had set and on a wet November night in Malta, the streets surrounding Spinola Bay were practically deserted.It was time to settle in and wait. The mark—Joseph da Silva—had only just sat down for dinner at one of the nearby restaurants. It would be at least an hour before he returned to his rental villa facing the water.With quick and efficient movements, the assassin made his way to the docked speedboat. Villas and hotels pressed together around the inlet, stacked like LEGOs around the small cove. He ignore