Sweet Reward-Last 9

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About the Author Christy Reece is a member of Romance Writers of America and International Thriller Writers. She lives in Alabama with her husband, two adorable canines, and one very shy turtle. Sweet Reward is the third novel in her new three-book Last Chance Rescue series. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. one Present day Agar, France “Livingston, where the hell are you?” As Noah McCall’s terse words rang in his earbud, Jared’s mouth twisted with a wry grimace. His boss was pissed—­not an unusual event. Couldn’t do a damn thing about that . . . especially right now. Standing on a six-­inch ledge twelve stories above the ground and only a few feet from a maniac with a gun impeded his ability to answer. Plastered against the white brick wall, his concentration fierce, Jared focused on his destination: the half-­open window ten feet to his right. His muscles strained as he extended his arms above him; his long fingers gripped the small overhang as his feet inched along the ledge of the building. They had been on the other side of the apartment door for over two hours, trying to talk a nutcase into freeing a ten-­year-­old girl he’d snatched off the street. So far, all they’d gotten were threats to shoot the child if anyone tried to come in. Jared had gotten tired of waiting. McCall had been in the midst of conversing with the man when Jared had walked away. The Last Chance Rescue leader was a good hostage negotiator, but hearing the child crying had turned Jared’s stomach. He’d figured he had two choices: walk away and let the negotiations continue or do something to speed up the process. “Livingston,” McCall snarled softly, “if you fall, I swear I’ll figure out a way to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.” Apparently someone had alerted his boss that Jared had found an alternate entrance. He was an avid climber, and at least once a year he went somewhere—­lately Mont Blanc—­and fed his need. Compared to that, hanging out on a ledge in downtown Agar wasn’t that much of a challenge. Still, even just this high up, the air was fresher and the only creature around was a bored-­looking pigeon that had barely acknowledged him. A heavy gust of wind slammed him hard against the wall. His fingers tightened on the ledge. It was a good reminder that while a twelve-­story building wasn’t much of a challenge, it could still get dicey. He inched closer to the window. Since they’d managed to slide a mirror beneath the door, he had a good idea of what was going on inside. The creep faced the door; his back to the window, he held a gun to the girl’s head. It seemed to Jared that the best option for a live rescue was to come in behind him. At the edge of the window, Jared stopped. Barely easing his head over, he got his first real glimpse of what was going on inside. The man, known to them only as Bernard, stood about four feet from the window. A young girl sat on a stool in front of the man, her thin body shuddering in obvious terror, and with good reason—­the gun was still pressed to her head. Jared quickly took in the rest of the room. Sofa and chair to the left, small kitchen with a bar to the right. No one else in sight. Looked like the guy was on his own for this. The window was open about half a foot, with no screen, thankfully. Shooting the bastard was a temptation, but one Jared couldn’t risk. Bernard’s finger was on the trigger. One involuntary jerk and the child was dead. A sudden flutter of wings was Jared’s only warning as a pigeon dove toward him. As he instinctively ducked, his left foot slipped and he slid to one knee. His right hand latched onto the windowsill, saving him from plunging to the ground. A cooing sounded above him; Jared glared at the two birds sitting on the ledge. Not one whit intimidated, they continued their pecking and ignored him. With a firmer grip on the windowsill, Jared pushed himself back to his feet and drew his gun from its holster. In that instant, Bernard whirled ar