Hidden in the Everglades

About the Author Margaret Daley, an award-winning author of eighty-three books, has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread, and corralling her three cats that think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret visit her website at http://www.margaretdaley.com. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. A wave broke and rolled across the white sandy beach, the warm water bubbling around Kyra Morgan's feet before receding back into the Gulfof Mexico. The sun peeked over the tops of the palm trees behind her, flooding the day with light. Her favorite time, at dawn when all was still right with the world. Before her day began.The screech of a seagull pierced the tranquillity. A momentary disturbance until everything went back to a calmness that she'd needed after spending six straight years establishing Guardians, Inc. into a premier international company of female bodyguards. Drawing in a soothing breath, she relished the scent of the sea mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers her dad had planted right before his death a few years ago.This was her time to rest and relax. One week in Flamingo Cay, Florida, where she'd grown up. One week of no work. No emergencies. No—A click and muffled pop invaded her tranquillity.Sounds she'd heard as a police officer.She pivoted, her survival instinct kicking into play as she raced to her beach bag a few yards away. When she reached it, she plunged her hand inside and grasped the handle of her Glock while panning the house next door where the sound of a gun with a silencer going off had come from.Another pop invaded the early-morning quiet. She started moving toward the noise. Every sense locked on finding the source of the danger.Suddenly a young man burst out of the hibiscus hedge edging the neighbor's property, staggering toward her, his face clenched in pain. He clutched his stomach, blood pouring out between his fingers. Stopping, he fell to his knees, a plea in his eyes as they homed in on Kyra."Help us."Us? Kyra glanced around as she covered the short distance to the young man. He collapsed to the sand, his eyes wide-open, giving her the dead man's stare she'd seen countless times as a homicide detective. She felt for his pulse and found none.She pulled her cell from her shorts pocket and dialed 911. "Shots have been fired at 523 Pelican Lane. One man down—dead."Another shot, coming from inside the house, sent a spurt of adrenaline through her veins. "Hurry." She disconnected, stuffed her phone into her pocket and ran toward the neighbor's back deck—the sliding glass door was partially open. The house was up for sale. She'd noticed the sign out front when she'd arrived yesterday evening. She hadn't thought anyone was living there.Every nerve tingled with the threat of danger, but she couldn't get the young man's plea out of her mind.