Spotlight Read online

  Cover images: Bullet Holes through Glass © sumnersgraphicsinc, Light and Smoke © c-foto, Movie Set Light © bigdaddyrockstar, Awards Trophy © mattjeacock, Attractive Brown Hair Woman © coloroftime.

  Cover design copyright © 2015 by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  American Fork, Utah

  Copyright © 2015 by Traci Hunter Abramson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect

  the position of Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.

  First Printing: October 2015

  ISBN 978-1-68047-923-2

  For Gabriel

  You are stronger than you know and loved more than you ever dreamed possible.

  Acknowledgments

  This book was written amidst many trials, and I can’t possibly name everyone who has helped me carve out time to escape into my fictional world, even when it was for only a few minutes at a time. My sincere thanks to you all. A special thanks to Jen Leigh for all of the quiet acts of service over the past few months. I don’t know how I would have survived without you.

  Thanks to Kanani Cox for helping me prepare this novel for submission and to Paige Edwards, Kathryn Brown, Jen Leigh, and Mandy Abramson for your invaluable insights. Thank you to Stephanie Read, Darlene Sullivan, and Jenn Wolfe for your help and support in all that I do. Also, thank you to Tiffany Hunter for your insights into the movie industry and for sharing that knowledge with me.

  I also want to thank Samantha Millburn and the many people with the Covenant family who have been so supportive of my writing. Thank you for your patience and for making this career such a joy.

  Finally, thank you to the many readers who have written to me over the years and asked that the Saint Squad stories continue. I admit that I have enjoyed sharing the journey with you, even if it has resulted in far too many sleepless nights. May we share many more sleepless nights in the years to come.

  1

  Craig Simmons crouched behind the shrubbery on the side of the modest house and watched four men emerge from the vehicle parked by the curb. His objective was simple: assess and identify any threats, specifically men who were armed.

  “Here they come,” Damian Schmitt said through the communications headset.

  From their hiding places on opposite sides of the yard, they watched the men continue up the front walk. Craig’s thoughts went to the past six months, during which he had undergone the grueling training of BUD/S, the Navy SEAL training program. He had learned so much: how to scuba dive, jump out of helicopters, disarm explosives. His flight skills and defensive driving abilities had improved, and he’d mastered his weapon skills and evasion techniques.

  What he hadn’t expected during those months was to spend his first week with his new squad doing nothing but surveillance. Yet here he was freezing on a cold February day while he sat around and watched the people who walked by.

  The enormous black man looked dangerous even without his weapon. With a muscular build and broad shoulders, he stood over six and a half feet tall, but the slight bulge of a shoulder holster revealed he didn’t have to rely on brute strength today. The lankier man on his left was nearly equal in height and appeared to be unarmed. The same wasn’t true for the man on his right—six feet tall, with dark hair—who was also carrying.

  Craig analyzed the fourth member of the group: a tall, sandy-haired man who strolled casually past his position. No weapons visible on him either. Craig spoke into the microphone on his headset. “I’ve got one with a gun in the back of his waistband and a shoulder holster on another. That’s all I’m seeing. How about you?”

  Damian’s response was instant. “Looks like there’s also one wearing an ankle holster.”

  Craig was so focused on the men in front of him he almost missed the movement off to his left. “I’ve got something at the back of the house.”

  “Drop back and intercept,” Damian instructed him. “I’ll keep an eye on the others.”

  Craig drew his weapon and silently slipped out of his hiding place. His heartbeat picked up speed, and his palms would have gone damp had his gloves not absorbed the increased moisture. He was trained for this, he reminded himself.

  Keeping the barrel of the gun aimed down, he crept along the side of the house, then stopped at the corner to peek around the edge before committing himself forward. For all he knew, it was some neighbor’s kid taking a shortcut through the yard.

  He ducked the moment he spotted the figure on the back patio, a weapon in his hand. Craig took a split second to identify the threat. The moment he saw the intruder begin to turn, weapon first, Craig fired. A sense of satisfaction pulsed through him when he heard the high-pitched beeping from his new commanding officer’s sensor vest.

  Craig lowered his modified weapon equipped with a laser rather than bullets as Brent Miller disengaged the sensors.

  “Not bad,” Brent said. “I wasn’t sure if you would see me.”

  “I thought this exercise was to identify weapons.”

  “No. This exercise was to make sure that while you’re trying to spot concealed weapons, you’re also alert and aware of your surroundings,” Brent told him. “You passed.”

  “Isn’t it about time you tell us about the mission we’re prepping for?”

  “Tomorrow,” Brent said. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Sienna walked along the beach, the hood of her sweatshirt covering her dark hair. Her sunglasses cut the glare off the water and hid her blue eyes.

  She loved a winter beach. The crash of the waves, the scent of the sea, and the lack of people. Especially the lack of people.

  She knew she could go home anytime to enjoy the private beach near her parents’ home in Malibu, but inevitably the paparazzi would figure out some way to snap photos while she was there. Just another constant challenge that came from being the daughter of one of the most famous men in the world.

  She supposed she and her sister were gluttons for punishment. Both of them, despite their desire for privacy and normalcy, had chosen careers that put them in the public eye too. Kendra had decided to carve out a spot for herself as a successful singer and songwriter. At twenty-six years old, she already had three Grammys. Sienna had taken the more expected route by following their father into acting.

  The year Sienna spent at UCLA had been a great experience, but when her dad handed her a script at the end of her freshman year she had altered her course, launching her acting career earlier than planned by winning a supporting role in one of her father’s movies.

  She had tried to ignore the claims that her last name had landed her the role and looked on the bright side. The attention, though negative, had brought her into the public eye as an actress. She knew there was an element of truth to the statement, but she also knew she had earned every role since. Her recent Oscar nomination for supporting actress served as proof that she belonged in this crazy world called Hollywood.

  The college courses she took online were as much to prove she could complete her education as they were to help her learn to take control of her career. If she had her way, she would graduate with her degree in business in three years. At twenty-two years old, she knew many of her old friends would finish college in a few months, but she would never tr
ade the experiences she’d had because of her choice to pursue a career earlier than expected.

  A seagull cried out in the distance, and Sienna let herself enjoy the moment. She knew this was one of the last times she would have the opportunity to be alone for the foreseeable future.

  Her sister’s wedding would take place in less than a week, and immediately following the wedding, Sienna would begin filming her next movie.

  She had to admit she was nervous about this one. Every role she’d had so far had been similar to the one before. Romantic comedy had been a natural fit, with an occasional drama thrown in. After nearly four years, that was what her fans expected. So playing a starring role in a military thriller had been completely unexpected. She had auditioned for the movie on a whim. She might have turned down the role if it hadn’t been for one thing: the filming would take place primarily in the Virginia Beach and Norfolk area, providing her with a public reason to be in Virginia. Eventually people would learn she was also here for her sister’s wedding, but she loved knowing her presence wouldn’t be reason for the press to become suspicious of her true motives.

  Besides, this would also give her the opportunity to act opposite Adam Pratt, one of the top leading men in the industry. Undoubtedly, Adam’s presence would bring the paparazzi out in droves, especially after his recent breakup with his actress girlfriend of two years.

  Sienna could understand her sister’s desire to keep her wedding out of the public eye. Though she and Kendra had grown up in the spotlight, their parents had gone to great lengths to keep them safe. Often the security their father forced upon them made them feel isolated, but the summers they spent with their grandparents gave them a taste of middle-class America. Both sisters found they liked their grandparents’ lifestyle. They loved the sense of accomplishment they found in doing things for themselves as well as the presence of the gospel in their lives.

  Their father had been raised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but he had stopped practicing shortly after beginning his acting career. Thankfully, he continued to embrace the strong family values of his youth and had not objected to his daughters joining the Church, provided they always took their bodyguards with them. The one thing he cared about more than his public image was keeping his little girls safe. Sienna doubted he would ever truly consider them able to take care of themselves.

  Sienna hoped her father would continue to be supportive of their church activity when he discovered Kendra was getting married in the temple in a ceremony he wouldn’t be able to attend.

  Kendra’s engagement was already well-known, but so far no one had been able to come up with the details of when the vows would be exchanged. That wasn’t surprising considering how tightly Kendra was controlling that information. Even their own parents didn’t know the date. Their father never had been able to keep a secret, and though their mother was slightly better, she couldn’t hide anything from their father, so Kendra and her fiancé, Charlie, had kept both of them in the dark.

  The scheme seemed so elaborate, inviting their parents to Virginia to meet the future in-laws. Luckily, Kendra’s future father-in-law was a U.S. senator, a high enough social ranking to entice Kendra’s father to make the effort. In addition, Charlie and his siblings had been planning a big anniversary party for their parents for over a year. No one would know the family was coming to a combined anniversary party and wedding reception until they actually arrived.

  Sienna thought for a moment about what she would want to do for her own wedding, if that day ever came. Her last boyfriend, Joseph, had been too self-absorbed to ever be capable of being in a serious relationship. He had been convenient, especially when she’d been shooting her last movie in London. As soon as she had returned to the United States, their relationship had fizzled, and their breakup occurred only weeks later. In reality, the emotional ties had been severed much earlier.

  She smiled slightly when she thought of her grandfather’s reaction when she’d told him about the breakup. William Blake didn’t have many demands of his grandchildren, but striving for a temple marriage was high on his list. Since Joseph wasn’t a Latter-day Saint, nor was he inclined to explore any religion, he had never met with her grandfather’s approval.

  * * *

  Craig sat on the beach, a sketchpad in his hand. He penciled in two seagulls on the horizon and shaded the crest of an incoming wave. The woman heading toward him caught his attention. Petite in stature, confident in stride, she looked content in her solitude. A hooded sweatshirt covered her head, and her hands were tucked into the front pocket.

  Her face was tilted away from him, a pair of sunglasses hiding her eyes as she gazed out toward the horizon. A strand of dark hair danced in the wind, and she reached a hand up to brush it out of the way. Fascinated, he sketched the outline of her profile, waiting until she drew closer to fill in her features.

  In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man wearing a Dodgers cap a short distance away, following behind her. Craig didn’t pay much attention to him until the woman stopped to pick up a shell from the sand and the man stopped as well, not resuming his forward progress until the woman began walking once more.

  Craig supposed it could have been a coincidence that the only other two people on the beach had stopped at almost the exact same time, but now his curiosity was piqued. He watched the woman stop once more, this time to simply look out at the horizon. Again, the man mirrored her movement.

  Craig’s attention no longer on his artwork, he studied the man lurking behind his current subject of interest. The man appeared to be around forty, but he had the look of someone who made exercise a regular part of his routine. Without realizing he was doing it, Craig did a quick threat assessment of the man and noticed the telltale sign of a holster in the waistband of his jeans.

  Another man of about thirty appeared from the opposite direction and jogged toward the woman. Immediately, the man in the ball cap hastened his steps. Concerned by the suspicious behavior, Craig tucked his sketchpad into his backpack and pushed to a stand.

  The jogger passed them without incident, but Craig didn’t trust the woman would be able to depart as easily. He left his backpack where it lay and strolled casually toward the woman with the intent of putting himself between her and the potential stalker. His concern heightened when the man behind her again quickened his pace.

  Craig was ten feet from the woman when he saw the man reach for what was surely a weapon.

  “Gun! Get down!” Craig shouted, racing toward the suspect. Craig didn’t give the man the chance to fully draw the weapon before he launched himself at him and tackled him to the ground. The man managed to get the gun in his hand, but Craig wrenched it away from him rather than drawing his own weapon.

  Using the skills he had learned during his Navy SEAL training, he quickly rolled the man onto his stomach, pressed one knee into the center of his back as he secured his arms, and pinned him to the ground. Then he looked up at the woman, who was now staring at him, stunned. “Are you okay, miss?”

  He saw her dark eyebrows lift above the sunglasses. “I’m fine, but I don’t think George appreciates being tackled,” she said, and Craig thought he sensed amusement.

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah. He’s my bodyguard.”

  “Bodyguard?” Craig repeated, an unspeakable embarrassment washing over him.

  She pulled her sunglasses free and pushed her sweatshirt hood down to reveal shoulder-length dark hair. It took him a second to recognize her, seeing her completely out of context. After all, this wasn’t a woman he expected to see walking around town. He expected her to be on movie screens and red carpets. Yet there was no doubt about it. The woman he had been sketching as she walked along the beach was none other than actress Sienna Blake.

  “I am so sorry,” Craig said uneasily, releasing the bodyguard and standing up beside her. “I saw him reach for his gun. I thought you were his intended target.” Craig shifte
d his attention to the man who was still sprawled on the ground. He reached his hand out and offered to help him up. “I really am sorry.”

  George didn’t say anything but continued to glower at Craig. He ignored the offered hand and pushed himself to a stand, brushing the sand off his jeans and retrieving the ball cap Craig had knocked to the ground. Craig decided he would hold on to the gun for a moment longer until he was sure George didn’t intend to use it on him as retribution for the embarrassment he had caused.

  “How did you even know I had a gun?” George asked, obviously annoyed.

  “I guess you could say I’ve been trained to spot them.”

  “Let me guess. You’re navy,” George said dryly.

  “Yeah.” Craig glanced down at his clothes, assuring himself that his jeans and sweatshirt didn’t have any identifying marks on them. He guessed the bodyguard identified him from his actions as well as the military haircut he had just started to grow out so he could blend in. So much for blending in today. “How did you know I was navy?”

  “Because we’re next to a couple naval bases.”

  Satisfied with George’s explanation, Craig continued. “I really am sorry.” The repeated apology eased some of Craig’s embarrassment and seemed to help George as well. The man’s posture relaxed, and Craig handed the gun back to its rightful owner. “This isn’t somewhere I expected to see a bodyguard.”

  “What’s your name?” Sienna asked.

  “Craig Simmons.”

  “Sienna Blake.” She extended her hand to him, and he grasped it in his own, noticing the smoothness of her skin. “I appreciate you trying to come to the rescue like that, even though I didn’t need rescuing.”

  He caught a whiff of coconut and had the sudden image of summer despite the cold breeze coming off the water. He forced himself to let go of her hand and took a second to realign his thoughts with what she had just said. “Glad to know you didn’t need rescuing. I hope you never do.”

  “That’s his job. To make sure I don’t.” Sienna jerked a thumb at George. “Right, George?”